A Sin and a Shame (9 page)

“So, is there anything else you want to see?” J.T. asked, leaning into Jasmine.

“No, I’m just going to walk around for a bit, okay?”

“Yeah, all right.” He turned into the waiting clutches of a trio of spandex-adorned women who had been shadowing them all night.

Jasmine was happy to pass J.T. to the roving ménage-a-trois. She’d completed her tasks, now it was time for fun. She strolled through the club still packed with partiers, dancing and drinking as if they didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning. But after checking out every inch of the space, she accepted that Brian was gone.

“J.T.,” Jasmine said after she’d scoped the entire club. “I’m going to head back to the hotel.”

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” he asked, even though the women were still clinging to him as if they were appendages.

“No, but thanks for everything.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got to give it to you, Jasmine. You’re living right. Call me later if you feel like doing a little wrong.” He pulled away from the women and walked her to the waiting car.

She slid into the back, then waved as the car pulled away from de Janeiro—and her thoughts were already on Brian Lewis.

She wasn’t really surprised that Brian had married Alexis. For years, she’d watched men swoon at that woman’s feet. And she’d watched Alexis pretend none of that attention mattered. But Jasmine had never been fooled. Alexis was just like her. Just waiting for the right man with the right money.

It seemed that Alexis had her hand in the jackpot.

The thought would have angered her, except that she recalled the way Brian’s eyes devoured her as if she were his favorite dessert. And she could still feel the charge that sparked between them the entire time they talked. Perhaps Miss Alexis didn’t have it all.

She pulled out his business card, and stared at his name. She wondered if she should call tonight, or just wait until morning.

The message light was blinking when Jasmine stepped into her hotel room. She kicked off her shoes and picked up the telephone.

“Jasmine,” Malik began on the voice mail, “I left details with a Gayle Conners at the front desk. Change of plans. I need you back in New York tomorrow. I’ll explain in the morning. Call me before you get on the plane.”

By the time he spoke his last word, the smile that had accompanied her thoughts of Brian Lewis faded. She called the front desk, got the details of her return trip, and then sank onto the down comforter. She could pretend that she’d never received the message, but by morning, Malik would be blowing up her cell until he confirmed that she was on that plane.

With a sigh, she stood and found Brian’s card in her purse. Her fingers caressed the raised letters of his name, then she tore the card into tiny pieces. As the paper bits floated toward the waste container, Jasmine said, “Consider yourself lucky, Miss Alexis.”

J
asmine covered her mouth
, but she couldn’t stifle the yawn as she rolled her bag toward security. She’d just fallen asleep when Malik called.

“Yes, Malik, I’ll be on the plane, but what’s the emergency?” she’d asked.

She’d been shocked when he told her he needed her for a dinner meeting with the Web designers.

“Malik, you can handle that,” she’d said, already trying to imagine how she could piece together Brian’s business card.

“I don’t know a darn thing about computers. I need you here with me.”

He’d gone on to remind her that the club would be opening in two months and they were already behind.

Now, as she waited at the gate, she leaned against the wall, silently begging the attendants to start loading the plane.

“It’s pretty early to be at the airport, huh?”

Her gaze moved toward a man standing next to her. He smiled. She didn’t. She hated people like him—those who had no difficulty stretching their lips into a grin before the sun even began its daily ascent.

Jasmine pretended she hadn’t heard him. She wasn’t even thinking about starting a conversation. In her mind, her trip to New York was already planned. First, she would sleep straight through to Chicago. Next, she would crawl to her connecting flight and then repeat the process, not opening her eyes until she landed in New York.

“We are ready to board Flight Sixty-seven to Chicago. Our first-class passengers can board at this time.”

The announcement was barely finished before Jasmine was handing her boarding pass to the attendant. And not many more minutes passed before she was in her window seat, eyes closed.

“Today must be my day.”

She peeked through one eye, and groaned. The same I’m-happy-even-before-the-crack-of-dawn man who’d tried to add cheer to her morning in the boarding area smiled at her. She pasted a get-out-of-my-space sneer onto her face and closed her eyes.

“I guess it’s early for you,” the man said. “I get the message.”

Obviously, you don’t.

“This will be a good flight to catch some shut-eye,” he continued as if she were listening.

If you don’t shut up…

“I’ll probably try to do the same,” he inserted as if she cared.

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

“Hey, do you want—”

Jasmine rose up in her seat. “Would you mind?” she snapped.

He grinned. “I was just going to ask if you wanted one of these.” He offered her a pillow.

She didn’t want to take it, but sleep would come easier if she did. She tried not to snatch the pillow from his hand. “Thank you.”

Before he responded her eyes were closed. By the time the plane took flight, Jasmine was fast asleep. But soon, she was startled from her rest. With widened eyes, she listened. It sounded like a saw scratching against wood. She peeked out the window, half-expecting to see a wing falling off, or the engine falling out.

She heard it again. The saw and the wood. She turned. To the man next to her. The one who couldn’t stop talking. The one who was now sleeping. And snoring, sounding like a lumberjack with a point to prove.

She twisted toward the window, trying to find that comfortable space again. But the sounds of the saw and the wood tortured her, keeping her from rest.

She sighed loudly, hoping to wake the man.

Nothing.

She turned and pushed her elbow into his side.

Nothing.

She hit him again with hopes to rouse him or hurt him.

Nothing.

Now she wished she’d stayed awake and talked to him. Anything would have been better than this misery.

She raised her finger to the passing attendant.

“May I help—,” before the woman could finish, the man let out a snore so loud, it startled them.

They both stared at him for a moment before Jasmine begged, “Any chance I can change seats?”

There was sympathy in her eyes. “There are no more seats in first class, but there are a few in coach,” the attendant offered.

“No,” Jasmine said as if she had never sat anywhere beyond row three in an airplane. “How long before we land?”

The attendant twisted her lips as if she hated to give Jasmine this news. “In about three hours.”

Three hours.
Well, she’d just sleep on the connecting flight.

Jasmine grabbed her
Essence
from her briefcase and flipped through the pages, but not a story could keep her attention. Her mind was on Brian Lewis. As she skimmed through the magazine, she pretended that he’d stayed at the club last night. Imagined that they’d left de Janeiro together. And wished that she had never thrown away his card.

The moment the jet hit the ground, the man awakened.

“Wow,” he said, twisting out of his sleep. “I must have been tired.”

“Must have been,” Jasmine mumbled.

“I was knocked out.”

“I wanted to knock you out,” she grumbled.

“Huh?”

She said nothing.

As he grabbed his suitcase from the overhead compartment, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

She glared at him. “Can’t say that I slept at all.”

“Oh.” His tone made her believe that he knew why. Like he knew he’d tortured thousands of passengers before. And that made her angrier.

She tossed the blanket onto the floor, and stood.

He said, “You’re in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

“Well, have a great time, wherever you’re going,” his words floated over her shoulders as she rushed away.

She marched toward her connecting gate, but she moaned the moment she arrived at B-7 and she read the ticker message. The counter was surrounded by passengers.

“How late is this plane going to be?” one man asked.

The Delta employee shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is there’s a mechanical problem.”

“Well, I don’t wanna get on no plane that ain’t working,” an elderly woman said before she wobbled away.

Jasmine waited, tapped her foot until she stood alone. “I really have to get to New York. Isn’t there anything you can do?” Jasmine asked.

“The flight is delayed,” the woman repeated the same words she’d spoken to everyone else.

“I know that,” Jasmine said. “But isn’t there something you can do?”

The girl raised her eyebrows. “What? You want me to go out there with a hammer and nails and fix the plane myself?”

“What she means,” a voice said over Jasmine’s shoulder, “is do you know how we can get on another flight?”

Jasmine started to turn, wanting to ask what was this
we
stuff, but she kept quiet. If this stranger had a plan, she wanted to know it.

“Yes, that’s what I mean,” she said before she looked at the one who’d spoken.

Punishment
was the only word that came to her mind when she realized it was the man who had given her that snoring symphony. She wanted nothing to do with him, his favors, or his snoring.

The man said, “I’m a Premier Executive member of Delta.” He spoke with a smile. “Maybe you can get us on another flight.”

There was that
us
again.

The attendant rolled her weary eyes and shrugged. “You can go to Customer Service.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Jasmine. “Come on. I’ve got some connections here in Chicago.” He reached for her bag, but she tightened her grasp around the handle. With raised eyebrows, he said, “I can get us on another flight. Or would you rather stay here for another hour or three before they decide to cancel this flight completely?”

She considered taking her chances. But then she remembered Malik and his desperate call.

I can’t believe I’m doing this,
she thought as she followed him.

“I fly a lot,” he said. “This happens way too much, but I know what to do.”

What am I doing? This man could be a terrorist.

“With God’s favor, we’ll be in New York in no time.”

His words made her pause.
God’s favor?

As he spoke to the woman at the Customer Service desk, Jasmine stood to the side. Studied him.

Although she liked the dimples that were carved deep into his smoked-almond-colored skin, he was not her type. The slight gap between his front teeth made his smile endearing enough, but his opened jacket revealed a bit of a skin roll that hung heavy over his pants. And if she were wearing her normal heels she’d be looking him straight in the eye. Definitely not her type.

“Did you hear me?”

She’d been staring, not listening. “What?”

“Give me your boarding pass.”

She handed him the card and stepped closer to the counter.

“Okay,” the woman said, tapping into a computer. “You’re going into Kennedy instead of La Guardia and that flight leaves,” she paused and looked at her watch, “in fifteen minutes. You two need to get moving.”

Jasmine nodded, relieved.

“And congratulations again.” The lady giggled as she handed the man two boarding passes.

“Why did she congratulate us?” Jasmine asked trotting beside the man.

He grinned. “I told her we were getting married.”

“What?” Jasmine stopped walking.

“You’d better come on, wifey,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

She hurried behind him. “Why would you tell her that?”

“She could only find one first-class seat. But when I explained that we were on our way to our wedding, suddenly there was a flight with two seats—both first class,” he huffed, the slow run taking his breath away.

Jasmine wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that she wouldn’t be spending hours in Chicago, or to cry because she’d be sitting next to him.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying that, Jasmine.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Don’t you think I should know the name of the woman I’m going to marry?” When she didn’t smile, he said, “Your boarding pass.”

It wasn’t until they were settled and the plane’s door had closed that Jasmine said, “Thank you.”

He gave her one of his high-voltage smiles again and then handed her a pillow and blanket. “Your turn,” he said. “I promise to stay awake.”

As much as she fought it, she smiled.

When the plane reached cruising altitude, an attendant stopped at their seats. “Congratulations.” She beamed.

He smiled; Jasmine frowned.

“We heard you’re off to New York to get married.”

“Yes,” he said, taking Jasmine’s hand. “We are so happy.”

Jasmine looked down to where his fingers entwined with hers. The band of his watch glittered. When she looked back at him, she noticed the fake diamond in his ear. It was so small, she wondered why he bothered. Her frown deepened. She hated costume jewelry.

The stewardess said, “Let us know if there is anything we can do for you.” She grinned as if she were really looking at about-to-be newlyweds.

“Okay, since we’re pulling this little charade, don’t you think we should introduce ourselves?” Jasmine whispered.

He shrugged and melted her again with his smile. “I know all I need to know. You’re Jasmine Larson, and if you let me help you with your bags when we land in New York, I’ll have your address or phone number from your luggage tag. I only need one to be able to find you.”

“How do you know I live in New York?”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t matter. You could live in Alaska and I’d still find you. I’ve got skills.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Since you know my name, shouldn’t you tell me yours?”

He leaned onto the seat divider bringing his smile closer to her. “Do you want to know now or should we wait for our first date?”

She laughed again.
Like that would ever happen.
“You’re sure of yourself, aren’t you?”