Just Another Damn Love Story (10 page)

This time, Wilson lifted an eyebrow.  “She’s a designer?”

“She’s an ad executive.  But she wants to be a designer.  She has some real talent.”

Wilson nodded.  “So, you want me to bring her in?”

“No, not yet.  Maybe we can take a look at her sketches and see if they have some potential.  If you feel the same way about them, then maybe we can bring her on board.  But it’s going to take some real convincing.  The sister’s got talent, but doesn’t understand how much talent she’s got.”

Wilson nodded.  “I'll look at them.  Have her come by and bring them.”

Sterling nodded.  “I’ll have her do it after I get back from New Orleans.  I imagine she’s going to New Orleans as well.  Hmmm.  I need to call her and see if she’s going.”

“Trying to hook up for a little bit of French Quarter romance?”  Wilson asked.

Sterling shrugged.  “Man, this sister is fierce.  She is cooler than a fan, but that coolness turns to frozen tundra when it comes time to talk about her emotions.  She ain’t letting nobody crack that ice.”

Chapter Twelve

“I’m walking out of the hotel right now,”  Kimberly told him.  She flipped closed her cell phone as she ventured the last few steps out of the lobby and through the exit.  Her mouth fell open when she saw the car that Sterling was waiting in.

It was a Bianco white, Ferrari F458 Italia Spyder.  Spyder in Ferrari speak, means convertible.  And Sterling had the top down so that everyone could see that rich, crème colored Italian leather interior. 

Kimberly had seen Ferraris before.  She saw them regularly on the streets of Manhattan, and certainly at celebrity fashion events across the country.  But the fact that she was about to hop inside and take a spin in one, had her smiling uncontrollably.

“Now that’s what I call a car,”  Kim told him.

Sterling waved his hand through the air dismissing her statement.  “It’s just a rental.”

“My company don’t rent me cars like this,”  Kim smiled.

“Maybe you’re with the wrong company.”

“I am
definitely
with the wrong company!”  Kim said, climbing inside.  “So, what’s on the agenda?”

“I arrived yesterday afternoon, and spent all night schmoozing, drinking, and partying with industry big wigs,”  Sterling told her.  “Before I go through another night of that, I need a break to clear my head.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,”  Sterling nodded.  “And I know the perfect place for us to get lost for the entire day.”

“All day?”  Kim asked, lifting an eyebrow.  “You know, some of us have work to do.”

“And you’ll do it.  You know that things don’t start jumping until night time.  We’ll be back by then.”

“Okay, whatever you say,”  Kim said, throwing her hands up. 

“You’re going to love it,”  Sterling told her.  “Besides, you can’t come to Louisiana, without seeing the
real
Louisiana.”

“The real Louisiana?”  Kim asked nervously.  It didn’t sound right.

“There’s more to southern Louisiana than the French Quarter,”  Sterling said with a smile.  “Most people would be surprised to learn that.”

Kim shrugged.  “Okay, you’ve piqued my curiosity, Mr. Sterling.  I’m all yours for the day.  Show me the real Louisiana.”

Sterling shifted the car into gear and slowly pulled off.  “You might want to put on your seat belt.  Highway 61, here we come!”

*****

Located in West Feliciana Parish, Greenwood Plantation was the ultimate manifestation of the power, wealth, and class that had been amassed along the banks of the Mississippi.  It had been erected in 1835 by Ruffin Barrow, a member of one of the wealthiest families in the Mississippi valley during those times.  The Barrow’s owned not only enormous cotton and sugar plantations on both sides of the river, but thousands of slaves as well.  As beautiful and elegant as those mansions were, their history was tarnished with the shame of the ultimate sin.

Greenwood was typical of the veranda houses of the nineteenth century South.  Typical, in all but its size, that is.  The mansion boasted thirty-five foot long Doric columns that wrapped around the entire perimeter of the house.  So grand was Greenwood’s scale, that the rooftop of a car wouldn’t reach the top of the porch balustrades.  Greenwood was truly a sight to behold.

“This place is so beautiful!”  Kimberly declared, walking through the rear gardens, and clutching Sterling’s arm.  “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara in
Gone With The Wind
.  I do declare!”

Sterling laughed at her exaggerated Southern accent.  “I can’t come to Louisiana without visiting the plantations here.  Especially the ones along the Mississippi.”

“Oh really?  And why is that? Are you originally from Louisiana?”

“No,”  Sterling said, shaking his head.  “I was raised in Savannah, and later Charleston.”

“Ahhh,”  Kimberly nodded.  “That explains your love of old Southern architecture.”

“A little bit,”  Sterling conceded.  “But in all actuality, I don’t think a person could be an artist, and not love the architecture.  It’s so romantic, so powerful, so historic.  It speaks to a bygone era of gentility.  Mint juleps, hoop skirts, gentlemanly conduct; I love that era.”

Kimberly laughed.  “You love that era?  Have you forgotten that our people were slaves during those genteel times?”

“Of course not,”  Sterling said, shaking his head.  “Come on, let’s go over here.  I want to show you where the slave quarters used to be.”

“I’ll bet you there was nothing elegant about those cabins,”  Kim said softly.

Sterling led Kimberly across the plantation grounds to an area marked by nothing more than a simple plaque.

“This is hollowed ground,”  Sterling said softly. 

Kimberly nodded.

“This is where it all happened.  This is where the foundation of Black love was laid.”

“What?”  Kim craned her neck toward him.  “What do you mean?  Are you saying that Black people didn’t know love until they were brought over here in chains?”

“No, of course that’s not what I’m saying!”  Sterling told her.  “But you have to distinguish between the two.  The love that our ancestors knew on the African continent, was African love.  It was something that was grounded in history, and tradition, and sanctioned by the spirits, the ancestors, the village, the entire world.  It was good love, legal love;
sanctioned
love.  But the love that our ancestors created over here, was a completely different animal.”

Sterling knelt down and pulled a wild flower from the ground.  He closed his eyes, held the flower to his nose for several moments and inhaled deeply.

“We created an entirely new culture for ourselves over here,”   he continued.  “Many tribes, many cultures, different languages, all came together to create a new
Black American
culture.  And out of that culture, out of the pith and mire and miasmic conditions of slavery, came a new kind of love.  A love that few other cultures have known.  A true love.”

Kimberly swallowed hard.  She was falling in love with this man, with each word that he spoke.

Sterling pointed toward the ground where the slave cabins would have been.  “At night, she held his head in her arms, and whispered away the nightmares of the day.  She rubbed healing roots on his torn, ripped, open back.  She took him into her, with the promise of a better tomorrow.”

Tears fell from Kimberly’s eyes.  “I never thought about it like that.”

“Most people haven’t,”  Sterling said softly.  “They think plantation, and slavery, but they never think about the lives of the actual people.  Our ancestors were alive, they were people with feelings, emotions, hopes, and dreams.  They didn’t just pick cotton twenty four hours a day.  At night, in these cabins, they survived, they dreamed, they loved, and they built lives together.”

“Most people are of the opinion that slavery destroyed the black family,”  Kim said, wiping away her tears.

Sterling shook his head.  “That’s a misconception.  How could it have destroyed the Black family, when they loved one another in a way that few of us could even begin to fathom in this day and age.  Do you realize that that Black man knelt down by his woman’s side at night, held her, caressed her, and built her back up after Master had had his way with her?  Can you even begin to fathom the kind of love that he had for her?  To take her and love her, when night after night she staggers back into the cabin bleeding, brutalized, with tattered garments hanging from her body.  Can you imagine that kind of commitment?  Can you imagine the love that he had inside of him to raise not just his children, but her and Master's children as well?  And to love them all equally, as his own? That’s more than just being there for somebody, more than just seeing one another through a storm.  That was a love that was ordained by God Himself. 
My God
, the history behind these plantations!  Yes, I love the architecture, but that’s because the architecture is part of the story, the history; it speaks to the times.  It was in this era when grace and beauty and charm reigned throughout the land.  It was in this era when a people’s love and faith and hope sustained an entire race.”

Kimberly peered into Sterling’s eyes and realized that she had found a man with a depth and sophistication and intelligence that was unfathomable.  John was doctor, and he could do wonderful things.  He could save lives, mend wounds, heal the sick.  He was educated, but it was an education that was technical.  Sterling was educated, but it was an education with depth.  He truly understood his place in the world, he understood the history of his country, and the history of his people.  Here was a man who could speak about love, and truly understand the meaning of it.  What was love?  What did it mean?  How did it manifest itself?  He could answer those questions, and because he could answer those questions, she knew that he could love her.

Kimberly leaned forward and kissed Sterling.  Their lips met; timidly at first.  The first peck, the second, a gentle third.  Then finally, their lips locked with a full embrace.  It was as if their bodies were saying hello to one another for the first time. 

Kim felt herself floating.  She was lost in time and space, and for the first time, was in no hurry to return to reality.  Sterling could love.  And so could she.  She knew that she could love, although at one time she had vowed that she would never love another.  And then, when loneliness set in, she swore that she would never be able to
find
another.  All of the men that she had been introduced to since she and John’s relationship ended, had been losers.  Guys with great looks, great jobs, and severe social or mental flaws.  Most of them had been frightened of commitment; momma’s boys.  Others were want-to-be-players, some were kids in grown up bodies, and some were just plain assholes.  And now, she was locked in an embrace with a guy unlike any she had ever met.

She could love again.  In fact, there was no need for her mind to pretend to be debating the issue.  That she was now in love with Sterling, was a foregone conclusion.  How this would play into her life, she did not know.  The last thing she wanted, or needed, were complications.  But then again, the very last thing she wanted, was to walk through life alone. 

“Wow, what was that about?”  Sterling asked, after their lips parted.

Kimberly peered into his eyes.  “I’m falling in love with you, Sterling.”

It had taken him by surprise.   But it was a pleasant surprise.  “Fall right in.”

“Is that going to scare you away?”  Kim asked with a smile.

“Nothing and no one, could drive me away from you,”  Sterling said softly.

Again, their lips met.

Chapter Thirteen

Sterling opened the small door and helped Kimberly into the rear seat of the horse drawn carriage.  The night was mild, and the sky clear, revealing a heaven that was teeming with stars.  It was the perfect night for lovers.

“I can’t believe you!”  Kimberly said, still exhilarated by the night’s events.  The charity fashion show had been unlike any event she had ever attended.  It was an event that catered to the big wigs of the industry, and small fish like her rarely got a chance to bask in the greatness of the industry’s inner circle.  And the only reason she had been able to do so tonight, had been because she was arm in arm with Sterling.  “How do you know those people?”

Sterling shrugged.  “They’re friends.”

“Friends, Sterling?”  Kimberly asked, still in shock.  “I have friends!  Those people are
not
friends, they’re legends!”

Sterling threw his head back in laughter.

“Where too, sir?”  the driver asked.

“Show us the beauty of Old New Orleans,”  Sterling told him.

“Yes, sir,”  the driver said, pulling off. 

“Sterling, how in the heck do you know Donatella Versace?”  Kimberly asked.  “Or Giorgio Armani?  Or Marc Jacobs?  Or Gianfranco Ferre?”

“Old friends,”  Sterling told her.  “I’ve known Marc for years.  Gianfranco also.”

“That was Yves Saint Laurent that you were talking to by the ice sculpture!”  Kimberly gushed.  She had been like a kid in a candy store.  Or more like a kid at a super hero convention.  “I can’t believe I got to meet Lagerfeld, Gaultier, Oscar de la Renta, Christian Lacroix, and Roberto Cavalli!”

Kimberly bounced up and down in the carriage seat.  “I can’t believe Caroline Herrera called you her boyfriend!”

“I’ve known Caroline for a long time,”  Sterling told her.  “She’s like an aunt to me.  She helped me so much when I first started in the business.”

“How do you know all those people?”  Kimberly shouted.  “What do you do at Vespasian?  How is it that Ralph Lauren knows you by name?  How is it that
Tom Ford
of all people, comes up to you and puts you in a head lock, and play wrestles with you at one of the biggest fashion events in the country?  Who are you?”

Sterling laughed.  “Calm down.  Tom is an old friend.  I’ve known him since his days at Gucci.”