Love Takes Time (11 page)

“I
can't believe you lied on national TV,” Tangie laughed, following Alyssa through the door of her swanky Malibu home. In the past few years, the dynamics of the best friend's relationship had changed. Tangie had gone from being her assistant to being her agent.

“What—you thought I was going to tell the whole world that I haven't so much as been on a date in ten months?” Alyssa laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Tangie harped. “I've been telling you not to take
every
job offered for a while now.”

“That's because you don't see the big picture,” she said. “These jobs are what's going to help launch my
new clothing line next year. The more money I put into it and not the investors, the more control I have.”

“And when will you have time to promote the perfume line?”

“Don't worry, boss. I have it all under control,” she said, heading into the kitchen. “Just call me Superwoman.”

Tangie settled a hand against her waist. “All right,
Superwoman,
where's your man at?”

“Fine. You made your point.” Alyssa pulled open the refrigerator and removed a prepared meal left by her nutritionist that would undoubtedly have about the same amount of flavor as it had calories. “So what do you suggest I do, Dr. Love? You're the one with the ring on her finger. How do I go about finding Mr. Right?”

“Well, he certainly isn't going to just pop up and ring your doorbell,” she chastised.

The doorbell rang.

The women glanced at each other with a “who's that?” look.

It turned out to be the UPS man. While Alyssa signed for her delivery, she and Tangie exchanged bemused looks.

“So,” Tangie said, crossing her arms, “how long have you been a deliveryman?”

The driver, who couldn't take his eyes off Alyssa, puffed out his chest. “Four years.”

“Thank you,” Alyssa said, handing back his electronic pad and then gently closing the door in his face.

“See?
That's
why you can't get a man.”

“He had a wedding band on.”

“But is he happy?”

Alyssa's head rocked back with laughter. “Girl, you ain't right.” She marched back to the kitchen.

“Don't underestimate married men. They're the only ones up in the club acting like everything is everything.”

“What is your married butt doing up in the club?”

“See what I mean?”

“If that's what you and Craig call a marriage, then no thank you.”

“I give up,” Tangie said, tossing up her hands and then retrieving a bottle of wine. “Want some?”

“Sure. Why not?” She picked through her cold bean and alfalfa concoction. She sat quiet for a moment. Except when Tangie came over, her house was always quiet. In her head she remembered the time when she seriously considered going after Quentin when she
knew
that he was heading toward the altar. It had been a moment of weakness. After all, Quentin had been a childhood fantasy and it was like dangling a carrot before a starving rabbit. “Maybe I should get a dog or something?”

“A dog is nice.” Tangela poured their wine. “But it's not a man.”

“Dog, man. Man, dog.” Alyssa shrugged, smiling. “What's the difference?”

“If you don't know, then you're worse off than I thought.”

Alyssa just smiled sheepishly.

“The problem is that you're too picky. This one is too tall. That one is too short. This guy lives with his mother and that guy looks in the mirror too much.”

“A woman should never compete with a man hogging a mirror.”

“Have you forgotten where you live? Ninety percent of the men are either models or actors or want to be both.”

“And I don't want to have anything to do with any of them.” She frowned and took a bite of her food. “I want a regular Joe. I don't think I could ever be with someone in this business. I can see myself with a regular pencil pusher.”

“Numbers and spreadsheets, huh?”

“Maybe a lawyer.”

“There're lawyers here.”

“There're slimeballs here,” Alyssa corrected.

“That's what I said.”

Alyssa shoved more alfalfa sprouts into her mouth. “I know one thing. Once I make the transition from supermodel to businesswoman, I'm going to start eating real food. People are going to do those ‘Where are they now' searches and see me looking as big as a house.”

Tangie laughed.

“I'm serious. Do you know how long it's been since I had fried chicken, macaroni and cheese—hell, peach cobbler.” She groaned and collapsed against the counter; her eyes rolled back.

“You
could
cheat every once in a while.”

Alyssa sat up. “Can't. One slip and I'm afraid I'm a goner. And visiting my dad is just like slow torture. He always cooks enough food to feed the entire state of Georgia. And then I'm standing there like an idiot chomping on carrots or celery while everything smells wonderful. Once, I did
sneak
a butter roll and I swear I had an orgasm.”

“That is so sad. And I'm going to put that in my TMI file, if you don't mind.”

“The bottom line is there's something to retiring on top in this industry. Cindy Crawford did it, Iman, Tyra Banks.”

“Whatever, girl. I guess that means that I better pump up my list if I'm going to be losing my top client.”

“Yep. I'm going to be a regular businesswoman and soccer mom.”

“You keep skipping steps. You have to be a wife before becoming a soccer mom.”

“We keep coming back to that, huh?”

“Afraid so.”

She sighed. “Dating would be a lot easier if men weren't allowed to talk.”

“Amen.” Tangie lifted her glass for an impromptu toast.

 

Sterling was out like a light.

And in his dreams, he kept seeing images of Alyssa's smiling face on the television screen.
“Do you have anyone special in your life?”
the hostess asked again.

“Yes, I'm seeing this really great guy that I've known most of my life—Sterling Hinton.” Alyssa answered. She kissed her fingers and then blew a kiss to the camera. I love you, baby.”

Sterling smiled and shuffled under the blanket. There was something ringing somewhere and he grew irritated that the television hostess wouldn't stop to answer it.

The ringing grew louder and louder. Finally it sank into his head that the ringing wasn't a part of the dream. It was the phone.

Groaning and wrestling his way out from his warm cocoon, he wrenched the phone off the hook. “What?”

“Bro,” Quentin shouted. “What the hell's wrong with you? You sound awful.”

“I'm sick.”

“Still?”

“Go away and call me later,” he ordered grumpily.

“I can't. I'm at the gate. Did you change the code or something?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Quentin rarely committed anything to memory. “I'm trying to keep freeloaders out.”

“You're a regular Chris Rock. Now buzz me in. It's cold out here.”

Why couldn't everybody just leave him alone?

“Hello? You still there?” Quentin asked.

“All right. All right.” Sterling punched in the code and then slammed the phone down. Lord, save him from concerned family members. In a snap, he was asleep again. But five minutes later,
his brother was standing over him and pushing up his eyelid.

“Yo, man. Wake up.”

Sterling slapped his hand away. “Money's in wallet. Go away.”

“I didn't come to hit you up…but if you're offering.”

Sterling groaned.

“Man, what's that burning my nose hairs?” He picked up a jar. “Vicks? What are you, twelve?”

“Did you miss the part when I said I was sick?”

Quentin plopped down on the bed, narrowly missing Sterling's legs. “That's just it. I can't remember you ever being sick.” He slapped a hand across Sterling's forehead. “You feel all right to me.”

“Is there something you want?” Sterling shoved his hand away. “I'd like to go back to dying here in peace, if you don't mind.” He started coughing and the next thing he knew, he was hacking and his entire chest started hurting.

“Easy there. Easy. Don't die on me.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Quentin responded in an upbeat voice. “You'll never guess who I saw on television today.”

Sterling didn't know nor did he care.

“C'mon, guess.”

“I don't know, Q. Goooo away.”

Quentin bounced on the bed. “Guess.”

Clearly he wasn't going to get any rest until he played this game. “All right. Dad was on TV.”

“Would I be excited about seeing Dad? You know he hasn't spoken to me since the divorce.”

“Mom,” Sterling tried again.

“Nope.”

“I give up.”

“Think of a beautiful enchantress that's splashed over every magazine cover.”

Sterling's eyes opened. He knew, but didn't answer.

“Alice Jansen,” Quentin proudly announced.

“Her name is Alyssa.”

“She may be Alyssa to you, but she'll always be
my
Alice.”

Sterling rolled his eyes and then grabbed a pillow and plopped it over his head. The last thing he wanted to hear was Q pining about what could have been with Alyssa.

“Alice was on this talk show earlier,” Q continued, snatching the pillow from his brother's head. “My God, bro. You should have seen her. I swear she gets more beautiful every time I see her. I should've pursued her when I had a chance. Instead I let you and Dad bully me into marrying Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Whatever.”

“And I didn't bully you into marrying Elizabeth. You agreed to that all on your own.”

“That's not how I remember it.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Alice was the one I should have married. I just can't get her out of my mind.”

Sterling finally pushed himself up. “I don't believe I'm hearing this.”

“It's true and you know it's true. She's the one.”

“And she makes enough money to support both of you.”

Quentin's shoulders deflated. “You cut me deep, bro. You cut me deep.”

“I'm going back to sleep.” He dived back under the covers and hoped his brother would pick up the hint.

He didn't. Q snatched back the covers. “I was hoping that you could help me.”

Sterling groaned.

“I know you've kept up with Alfred since he left Dad's employ—maybe even Alice.”

“No.”

“Now you're just being mean.”

“Fine. I'm being mean. Now go away.”

“Sterling.”

Sterling sat up. “Do you think I'm actually going to feed Alfred's daughter to you? The longest relationship you have ever had was your six-month marriage. The answer is not just no, but oh-hell-no!”

“Sterling—”

“I'm sick, but I'm not crazy.”

Quentin looked genuinely hurt. “Whatever happened to blood being thicker than water?”

“Q, forget about Alyssa Jansen. You're not programmed for monogamy. Besides, she said that she's seeing someone.”

“How did you—did you see the show?”

Sterling sighed. He'd said too much.

Quentin's eyes narrowed. “You know, I've always been suspicious of what happened that night between you two in the solarium.”

Sterling blinked. “Are you for real?”

Q crossed his arms.

“Okay, now I know that you're crazy, though all evidence pointing to that conclusion occurred some time ago. Alyssa is like…an adopted sister or a cousin. She grew up around us.”

“All right. Fine. I'll find her without your help.” He stood up and reached for his brother's wallet on the nightstand. “And since you offered…”

Sterling shook his head.

“Xavier and I are going skiing this weekend. As soon as I get back, I'm hot on Alice's trail. Trust me, I'm going to find her, and when I do, I'm making her the next Mrs. Hinton.”