Joy (6 page)

Anya shook her head. After seven volatile years of marriage, a turbulent divorce, and discovering that Gordon's wife-in-waiting was pregnant, Sasha had exhibited the fury of the scorned ex. The producers of
The Jerry Springer Show
had eagerly given Sasha her forum to dish the dirt on Chicago's most successful real-estate developer. Her tactics were dubious, but effective. When the show aired last week, Gordon had been appropriately humiliated—and furious.

“Your parents didn't deserve this drama.”

“Maybe it wasn't one of my best moves.” She paused as a wide grin broke across her face. “But, girl, it was fun. And everyone knows that Gordon barks like a toothless Rottweiler. He's not going to do anything. I came here to give my parents room and take a vacation from those crumb-snatchers,” Sasha said, referring to the second-grade students she'd left behind while she took this sabbatical. “And I knew this would please Madear. She didn't give my parents a break. Calling every day to give her opinion on how they should handle me. I'm grown. No one can
handle
me.”

Anya rolled her eyes as Sasha droned on.

“Where is Grandmother Dearest anyway? I was sure she would be at the gate waiting with her usual look of disdain.”

Before Anya could object to Sasha's statement, a portly gentleman interrupted them. “Ah, excuse me, Sasha.” The man grasped his briefcase handle tightly and shifted his feet. “Sasha, ah, I wanted to get your telephone number.”

Anya's eyebrows arched as she watched her cousin move closer to the man.

“I don't have a number where I can be reached,” Sasha said throatily. “So give me your number.” She towered over the man and her breath flickered the few wisps of hair atop his head. “I'll call you this evening and we can do
all
those things we talked about.”

The man licked his lips and stared into her eyes, then suddenly broke eye contact. He swallowed hard, disappointment etched on his face. “Uh …” The man looked down and spoke to his shoes.

“Maybe we'll see each other … some other time … soon, I hope.” He turned and walked away quickly.

“What was that all about?”

“Just a married man who conjured up some chocolate fantasy,” Sasha said. “And don't look so shocked. I've decided to live a little differently. Instead of being walked on and tossed away, I'm going to do the walking and tossing. It's all about me. If it feels good, I'm going to do it.”

Anya sighed. Maybe she should drop Sasha off at Madear's and let her grandmother handle this rebel.

“Do you have any other bags?” Anya asked, as Sasha pulled the garment bag from the carousel.

“Nope, just one. I'm gonna do some serious shopping while I'm here.” She slapped her sunglasses on her face. “Let's go. I'm ready to become a California girl!”

Anya followed her cousin who acted as if she knew where she was going. When they got to the car, Sasha threw her bag into the trunk.

“Well, you go, cuz.” Sasha pranced around the BMW. “I knew things were going good, but I didn't realize how well. Madear said your business is thriving.”

“I have been blessed and give all the glory to God.”

Sasha glanced sideways as she wiggled into the seat. “Madear has finally gotten to you, huh? Got you talking all that God stuff and she probably has you going to church.”

Anya paused. One reason she'd insisted that Sasha stay with her was so she could share her faith with her cousin. She knew that Madear would witness to Sasha but Madear pushed, and that would shut Sasha down. “I go to church, although I don't go to Madear's church,” Anya finally responded. “But I do love the Lord.”

“You haven't become a Jesus freak, have you?” When Anya frowned, Sasha continued. “You know, one of those people on the corner who yells that everyone is going to hell?”

“I haven't stood on a corner in a long time.” Anya chuckled. “I just rededicated my life to the Lord many years ago, and everything has been different since then.”

“How?”

“I have a peace and joy in my life that I can't fully explain. All I know is that I'm saved and I'm happy.”

Sasha was silent for a moment. “I never understood that God stuff. And in Madear's church, I didn't stand a chance. I never got beyond all that whooping and hollering.”

“So you don't go to church at home?”

Sasha shook her head. “Only for the normal things—weddings and funerals.”

“I'm surprised. The way Uncle Jake and Dad were raised.”

“Maybe that has something to do with it.”

They were silent as Anya paid the parking attendant, then maneuvered through the crowd of cars that filled the airport.

“It's not that I don't believe in God,” Sasha said suddenly. “It's all of that other stuff that I can't deal with. Like praying to someone that you can't see and believing that God controls everything. It doesn't make sense to me.”

“It will never make sense if you try to understand God with your mind. You can't do that. God is a Spirit and has to be approached on that level. The Bible says,
God is a Spirit and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”

The cackle of Sasha's laughter startled Anya.

“Do you actually go around quoting scripture to people?” Sasha laughed.

Anya's shoulders tightened, but she kept her tone light. “Only if they need to hear it. I was trying to explain it to you.”

“I didn't mean to laugh.” Sasha was still chuckling. “I just didn't realize. What made you so religious?”

Anya hated when people called her that. They didn't understand that she wasn't practicing rituals, she had a personal relationship with God.

“I went through a tough time and it brought me to the Lord in a real way.”

“Something
bad
happened to
you?
What happened?”

They were at a stoplight and Anya tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Should she tell Sasha? Only Maria Covington, her college roommate, and Braxton knew her secret.

“It was something that made me rethink my life.”

Sasha nodded her head slowly. “I understand. That's what's going on with me. I'm changing everything in my life.”

Anya picked up speed as she turned onto LaCienega. “Well, any time you want, we can talk about what I found in my life with God.”

“You're sounding like a street-preacher. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.” Anya backed down. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, but take me to one of those famous L.A. restaurants where I can see and be seen. I'm dying to see someone famous.”

Anya chuckled. The request of every L.A. visitor—to see a celebrity. As if they hung out on every corner. “Well, cuz,” Anya said, mimicking Sasha, “I know just the place.”

Serendipity's parking lot was only half-full with the usual Mercedes, Jaguars, and Lexuses. Anya expected a larger Saturday crowd, and was relieved when they didn't have to endure the normal thirty-minute wait. They both squinted in the dim light as they followed the hostess past the mirrored bar to the back of the room. The low lights and the oak furniture always made Serendipity seem darker than it was.

Customers were sprinkled throughout the restaurant, but the bar was completely surrounded by people chatting and drinking, even at this early hour.

“The food is good, and you'll probably see someone …” Anya leaned across the table so that she could be heard above the din.

Sasha fanned her face. “I already did! Didn't you see Rick Fox and Vanessa Williams?” Anya picked up the menu, making Sasha frown. “Don't you want to see them?”

Anya looked up. “No, I
want
to eat.” She returned to the menu. “Unless Rick and Vanessa are going to pay for our lunch.”

“Well, if they won't, I will,” a masculine voice said.

Anya didn't even have to look up. She recognized the deep, hoarse voice. Hunter Blaine. Hollywood's African-American flavor-of-the-month. He kissed Anya's cheek.

Hunter had just completed his first major film,
Secret Lovers.
The audience had swooned, panted, and then demanded to see more of Mr. Blaine. The surprise box-office hit led to a bigger surprise: Hunter's Academy Award nomination. And although he didn't win, mainstays like Denzel, Wesley, and Will were already being pushed aside by the name of Hunter Blaine.

“How are you?” Hunter asked in his bedroom voice.

“Hunter, good to see you.” Anya forced a smile to her face. “I heard you were in London working on a film.”

“Baby, I'm back.” His eyes wandered to Sasha. “And
who
is this vision?”

As Sasha stood, Hunter scrutinized her body and his grin told Anya that he liked what he saw. Anya knew that Hunter had been with a lot of beautiful women—he fancied himself a Hollywood player. She didn't want her cousin added to his list.

“Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it,” Hunter said as he lifted Sasha's hand and kissed it.

Anya wanted to stick her fingers down her throat. She hoped her cousin felt the same way, but the giddy grin on Sasha's face told Anya that Hunter's magical powers were in full force. “Hunter, this is my cousin, Sasha Clarke. Sasha, this is Hunter Blaine.”

Still holding his hand, she gushed, “I am such a big fan. By the way, my name is Sasha Mitchell now. I'm
divorced.”

“Ah, the first thing we have in common.”

Anya closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.

“I knew you were related. You are as beautiful as your cousin. Has she told you that she broke my heart?”

“What did she do?” Sasha sat down and looked from Anya to Hunter.

Anya waved her hand in the air. “Don't listen to a word he says.”

Hunter leaned over Sasha as if he were about to divulge a top secret. His lips were close to her ears. “After my divorce, I tried to get your cousin to go out with me, but she always refused. And now”—he lifted Anya's left hand—”she has given herself to another man. Have you seen this rock?”

Sasha laughed. “That was the first thing I noticed at the airport.”

“You're from out of town?” Hunter took a chair from the next table, then straddled it.

As Anya watched Hunter, she tried to determine why she'd never liked him. Maybe it was because he was just a little too smooth.

But Sasha seemed to be taken with this man who had been calculatingly designed by his agent; from the sheen of his bald head to his perfectly capped teeth that hid a gap in front. Many people mistook him for the model Tyson, and Anya could definitely see the resemblance.

Anya watched Sasha fall further into Hunter's web, and she had to stop it. “Hunter, I'm so sorry you won't be able to join us.”

Hunter chuckled. “You're so subtle, Anya.” He took Sasha's hand again. “Your cousin doesn't like me.”

“That's not true, you're one of my best clients.” Anya smiled.

He chuckled again. “One of these days, Anya …” He stood and turned to Sasha. “Since you're new in town, I'd love to show you off—I mean, show you around.” Staring at Sasha, he reached into his jeans and then handed her a card. “Give me a call. I'll make sure you have good times while you're here.”

He was barely out of hearing range, when Sasha slouched in her chair. “Girlfriend, I am im-pressed! I didn't know you knew
him.
Did he really ask you to go out? Did you really turn him down? Are you crazy?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?”

“How do you know him?”

“I met his wife at church and became their financial planner when he was on that sitcom. He wasn't anybody then.”

“He's somebody now. Did he really ask you to go out?”

“He asks every woman he meets to go out. That's why Cynthia divorced him.”

“He'll only have to ask me once.” Sasha flicked the business card against the tablecloth, then tucked it inside her purse.

The waitress told them the specials, and they agreed to share the crab cakes and then the barbecue pasta.

Sasha took a sip of water. “If Hunter Blaine doesn't fan your flames, tell me about the man who does.”

Anya glanced at her hand. Even in the dull light, the diamond's colors danced. “Braxton. He's wonderful,” she said flatly, her eyes still on her finger.

Sasha frowned. “Mom and Madear told me you had this incredible man and were totally in love.”

“I am.” Anya finally looked up from her ring.

“So what's wrong? And don't bother to tell me that everything is fine. I just escaped from a nightmarish relationship and know the signs.”

Anya leaned her elbows on the table. “Recently I've been feeling like this may not be right.”

Sasha frowned. “He's not suffering from the Gordon Clarke syndrome, is he?”

“I'm afraid to ask …”

“A man with a hyperactive zipper. You know, a zipper that constantly goes down around other women.”

Anya laughed so hard she had to take a sip of water. Finally she said, “Another woman is not the problem.”

The waitress placed the crab cakes in front of them and, just as Sasha was ready to dive in, Anya took her hand.

“Would you mind if I blessed the food?”

Sasha's brows knitted together, but she shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Anya bowed her head, and Sasha followed suit. When Anya finished, she heard Sasha sigh. “Thank you,” she said as she patted Sasha's hand.

They ate in silence for a few moments, before Sasha returned to her questioning. “So what is going on with you and Braxton?”

“I have a feeling that we're not going to make it, we may be too different.”

“That should be a good thing,” Sasha said, swinging her fork in the air.

“Differences are good as long as they're not fundamental differences.”

Sasha's eyes narrowed, then opened wide in understanding. “Oh,
fundamental
differences. He's not into God like you are.”

“That's not it at all,” Anya snapped.

“Hey, girl!” Sasha put her hands up as if to block an attack. “Don't go to war with me. I'm not the enemy.”

“Braxton's not the enemy either.”

“I never said he was.”

“And Braxton
is
a Christian.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows. “Who are you trying to convince?”

Anya pursed her lips and picked at her crab cake. But her favorite dish had lost its savor.