IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN (7 page)

“Is the offer still open?”

“Yes, but on one condition.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Raphael, my home is one filled with unequivocal faith. The moment you step across the threshold, your faith must go into action.”

“That’s the one thing I don’t have right now.”

“Yes, you do. Faith is the only thing that will lead you to places your eyes can’t see.” Laney paused, then softly asked, “Are you willing to accept that condition?”

Ray remained silent, dropping his head, and listened to the soft, raspy voice beckoning him. At that moment, he felt like a car careening out of control and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

~ ~ ~

“Mr. Goldberg, I sent an e-mail to you over three weeks ago. Is there a reason why a meeting hasn’t been arranged with Les Croisés?” 

It was a little past nine the day after New Year’s. Evangeline Williams, the CEO of Universal Entertainment, placed the call from the twentieth floor of her executive suite. She was livid. Someway, somehow, she had to find a means to get Les Croisés to agree to a contract renewal or her career was over. 

“Yes, there’s a very good reason, Ms. Williams,” Henry advised. “Nothing has changed since my last phone call with you. My clients are not interested in a renewal option.”  

Frustration threaded through Evangeline. This was not what she wanted to hear. She had to increase profits at Universal Entertainment. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it, and she needed the label’s top recording artist on board to do it.

“Mr. Goldberg,” Evangeline said in an icy, but controlled tone, “it’s very early in the morning. Your attempt at humor is unimpressive.”

“Believe me, Ms. Williams, I’m dead serious.”

Evangeline bit back a cynical laugh when she realized Ray LaSalle’s attorney meant exactly what he’d said, but it didn’t prevent her from executing one last attempt. “I want this matter settled immediately, Mr. Goldberg.”

“I’ve already stated my client’s position, Ms. Williams. Therefore, the matter is settled. Good day.”

Evangeline glared at the phone when she heard the dial tone
. That’s what you think.
She slammed the receiver on the base. A few seconds later, she pressed the button on the intercom with more force than necessary. “Get in here.”   

Antón Perry scurried into the office seconds later. “Problem?”

“Yes.” Evangeline took a cigarette out of a gold engraved case and lit it. “Les Croisés doesn’t want to play let’s make a deal.” She blew out a billow of white smoke, which drifted toward the ceiling. “If they don’t, we’re screwed.”

Antón perched his hip at the corner of Evangeline’s desk. “I thought you requested a meeting with them?”

“I did, but they’re not cooperating.”  Evangeline jabbed her index finger down repeatedly on the edge of the desk. “I don’t care what you have to do. Find them. Understand?”

“But—”

“Better yet, find LaSalle.” Evangeline ground out the half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. “I don’t know way I didn’t go this route at first. He’s the brainchild of the group.”

With a half chuckle, Antón shook his head. “Ray LaSalle is not the person you want to tangle with, my dear.”

Evangeline stood and strolled across the room toward the ceiling-to-floor window. Her gaze settled on the grayish smog-filled sky. She certainly didn’t need her assistant and co-conspirator to share that tidbit of information with her. She’d done her homework. Ray LaSalle was as talented a negotiator as he was a musician.

“Evie, LaSalle is known in the industry as a top-notch businessman. Besides, he really doesn’t need to sign off on your contract or any label’s contract for that matter.”

Evangeline spun around. “Wealth is a powerful thing. Once these artists get a taste of the good life, they’ll do whatever it takes to hang on to it.”

“Evie, Ray LaSalle or Ray Baptiste—”

“Yes, I know. He’s one of the principals of BF Automotive, the top Black-owned dealerships in the country. I don’t need to be reminded of that.”

Antón folded his arms across his chest. “Then you also don’t need to be reminded that you really don’t have any negotiating power over LaSalle.” 

Evangeline slowly bobbed her head up and down. “You want to bet?” She walked back to her desk and sat. Okay, money was irrelevant to Ray LaSalle. She lit another cigarette and reared back in her chair.  A skeleton was tucked away in everyone’s closet. There was some secret hidden Ray LaSalle didn’t want the world to know, and she planned to find out exactly what it was.

L
aney pulled into the circular driveway and stopped. “So you won’t have to walk so far, I’ll let you out here. It won’t take me but a few seconds to park.”

Ray folded his long frame from the passenger seat of the white Escalade. He buttoned the full-length wool coat together to ward off the winter cold and glanced up at the structure before him.

A historian he wasn’t, but he knew Olivia, the three-story estate of the O’Reilly family located about sixty miles outside of Memphis was the epitome of grace and wealth. From the tree-lined drive up to the home with tall stucco columns and wooden colonettes, which sat upon stretches of green manicured lawns and surrounded by huge oak and magnolia trees, he’d been impressed.

As soon as Laney pulled off, Ray saw the front door open and three people exit. Ray peered over a pair of blue-tinted Mikli frames. This must be Laney’s family, he mused. Okay, which one was the dangerous one she’d told him about. The tall, burly, dark-skinned man had to be her uncle. The two petite women who were mirror images of each must be her aunts. If Laney’s mother were still alive, he knew exactly what she’d look like. She was the youngest of the three sisters who were identical triplets. 

The man walked back inside, but returned a second later. “Don’t ‘llow no thugs round here. Now git.”

Ray got it. The uncle was the one he needed to watch out for. He assessed his situation and knew he was at a distinct disadvantage. Now wasn’t the time to get stupid, especially standing in front of a man with a double-barrel shotgun and no backup. Still, the comment got the best of him. So what if he didn’t go to a nine-to-five gig every day. He made an honest living and paid the bills before they were due. He squared his shoulders and stepped forward. “Hold up a minute. Who are you calling a thug?”

“You
…
” The man gave Ray the once over from head to toe. “
Thug
.”

Ray’s rebuttal was interrupted by the woman to his left.

“Eddie Lee Johnson, hush ya fuss.” Extending her hand, which she’d wiped on the end of the apron tied at her waist, she smiled. “Don’t pay no attention to Big Eddie, son. Ida Mae Johnson is the name.” She pointed to her right. “And this here is my sister, Dorothy Lyman.” She nodded, approvingly. “Must be Laney Olivia’s friend, right?”

Hesitantly, Ray accepted the gesture and nodded back. “Name’s Raphael Baptiste.”

Big Eddie smiled brightly and propped the shotgun against the house. “Aaaw shucks, boy. Shoulda told me who ya was at first.” He walked up and patted Ray on the shoulder. “Ya see, the Calm before the Storm told me to protect ya with my life.” He stuck his chest out proudly. “Just doin’ my job, that’s all.”

Ray stared, confused. “The who?”

Before Ray got his answer, Dorothy walked up to him and smiled. “Raphael, welcome to Olivia. We’ve been waiting for y’all to get here. Come on in. Let me introduce you to my daughter, Jewel.”

Ray followed the trio inside. The interior of the estate was as elegant as the exterior. A colorful mural depicting various images of the eighteenth century decorated the walls along both sides of the hallway. Oriental carpet covered the floors and antique giltwood furniture completed the décor.

“Hello, Raphael and welcome to Olivia,” a woman said. She stood in the entranceway to the main salon. “I’m Jewel Lyman, Laney’s cousin.”

Ray extended his hand to the woman who looked like an African goddess. Her skin tone was the same shade as deep, rich chocolate. “Thanks.”

About ten minutes later, Laney entered the estate from the rear. When she entered the main salon, she glanced over at Raphael and smiled. “Raphael, have you been introduced to everyone yet?” 

With the vision of the shotgun still a vivid memory, Ray nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’ve met everyone all right.”

Ida Mae glanced between Ray and Laney. “Y’all don’ had somethin’ to eat?”

Laney and Ray looked at each other and shook their heads sideways.

Ida Mae sprung into action. She motioned her husband, sister and niece with a quick wave of the hand. “Y’all c’mon here and help me get these youngins’ some food. Already gotta get Raphael back on his feet. Ain’t no sense having Laney Olivia down on us, too.”   

From the red-carpeted staircase to the velvet tapestry drapes, Ray swore this was the replica mansion from
Gone with the Wind
. He hadn’t been sure what he’d expected Olivia to look like, but understood why someone who lived here wouldn’t want to leave.

Laney dropped her car keys on a nearby table. “Let me show you to your room.”

Ray followed Laney up the wide staircase, which led to the second level of the house. “Red, how big is Olivia?” 

“Olivia has thirty rooms in the main house,” she said, but didn’t look back. “There are another eight buildings located on the rest of the property. Remind me to give you a spare set of keys after you’ve settled in.”

Ray opened the door to a room across from the top of the stairs, which was the one Laney told him was her favorite. The room had been converted into a suite and decorated with the style and luxury of the antebellum period.

Ray placed his carry-on bag on the bed. A second later, he faced Laney. “It’ll take me twenty minutes to shower. Someone can bring my plate up here then.”

Laney wrinkled her nose. “Dinner is served in the dining room. It will be ready in ten.”

From that, Ray deduced the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to had just gone on a temporary hiatus. For the past seven years, he’d traveled with an entourage, which included staffers who took care of what he wore, what he ate, down to a chauffeur who drove him from point A to point B.

Laney’s one and only stipulation for staying at Olivia had been hard enough. Now he had to give up being Ray LaSalle, too? Ray plopped on the bed and sighed. What in the world had he gotten himself into?

~ ~ ~

Ray sat across from Laney in the formal dining room. He pushed his plate to the side and relaxed comfortably in his chair.

“Red, your legal name is Laney Olivia Houston O’Reilly. Why did you drop the O’Reilly?”

“It was more for security than anything else. After my father died, suddenly there was this media frenzy to know every move made by the heiress to O’Reilly Enterprises. I knew I’d never take over the corporate reins and didn’t want my career as a researcher to be influenced by who I was. Nor did I want to have a security detail follow my every move, so I dropped O’Reilly.”

Ray nodded. At least Laney understood the relentless scrutiny of the media. “Is that why you extended the invitation to me to hang out at Olivia?”

“It’s one reason.”

Curiosity caused Ray to raise his brow. “What’s the other?”

“Raphael, as a physician researcher, I’m a staunch advocate for patient privacy. The decision to share your illness with anyone, and that includes the media, should be made by you because you
want
them to know. Celebrity or not, you should never be forced to reveal anything to the public that you consider private.”

Ray waited for her to look and him. Slate blue eyes connected with green. “
Merci
.”

“
De rein
.” Laney cocked her head sideways. With her gaze still settled on him, she lifted a cup of herbal tea to her lips, sipping it slowly. “What about you? Why do you go by the last name LaSalle?”

Ray smiled. “It was my
mère’s
maiden name. She was the one who recognized by musical ability and encouraged me to pursue it.” He shrugged. “Guess it’s my own way of honoring the woman who made everything I’ve achieved in my career possible.”

Ray glanced across the room and noticed a portrait on the wall. Laney bore a marked resemblance to the woman in the oil painting. He wouldn’t call her gorgeous. Sultry, exotic, and striking more accurately described her features. Not even those words conveyed the natural beauty of her slant green eyes and reddish hair that cascaded past her shoulders. He tipped his head forward. “Red, who’s the lady in the portrait up there?”