After The Dance by Lori D. Johnson Read Free Book Online Page B

a quick shower and after I’m cleaned up I’ll come over and hold your hand, help you call some folks, organize a search party, or whatever it is you think we need to do.”
    I was sincere about that, man. Like I told you, me and Nora are cool. Whatever thoughts I mighta once entertained about trying to ease up on her, I’d long since abandoned in deference to her total lack of interest in a straitlaced, broke-butt brother like myself.
    Anyway, by the time I got over to her place, she’d calmed down considerably. She told me she wanted to give Faye another thirty minutes or more before we called the police or went out looking for a body. I told her “cool” and plopped down on the couch with her to wait. Having never known Nora’s conversation to extend too far beyond the latest dude she’d let dog her, I was kind of surprised when she inquired as to what Faye and I had been doing besideswatching videos on all those Friday nights we’d spent together at my place.
    Not knowing if ol’ girl was out to implicate me in Faye’s disappearance or what, I did like she’d done when she thought I was pressing her about Faye’s Wednesday-night routine. I played dumb and kicked the question back to her. “What she tell you?”
    “That’s just the thing,” Nora said. “Me and Faye talk about some of everything, especially when it comes to men. But I’ve noticed when the subject turns to you, she’ll only share so much. I’m starting to think it just might be because she likes you a lot more than she wants to let on.”
    Interesting, huh? I thought so. Didn’t take much prodding to get Nora to feed me a whole host of other juicy tidbits about her friend. Among other things, she verified Faye’s skank-ti-fied “hit it and quit it” credo and put forth as its inspiration some bad-news boyfriend who’d obviously been the major love of ol’ girl’s life. She even showed me snapshots of the sparkling-eyed, slim-figured babe Faye had been before the years of getting jaded and jacked around had taken their toll.
    By the time Faye finally strutted through the door that night, not only had I begun to view her in a different light, but I also knew I wasn’t gonna be satisfied until I’d uncovered whatever else lay hidden beneath the mask she always seemed to slip behind around me.

HER
    Twenty minutes max was all I’d planned to waste. I figured that would be more than enough time for the Scoob-meister to spin whatever lies he intended to tell me. After ordering a latte and finding us a table in the crowded foodcourt, I sat down, glanced at my watch, and said, “Okay, Scoobie, out with it already. What wondrous series of turns has your sordid little life taken in the years since we both went our separate ways?”
    He laughed and said, “First off, hardly anyone calls me Scoobie anymore.” Then he passed me his business card and proudly proclaimed that most of the folks he dealt with these days referred to him either as “Chef Venard Payne,” or “Chef Payne” for short.
    Wearing the sweetest smile I could muster, I leaned over, fingered what looked to be a real Rolex on his wrist, and asked him to explain exactly how one goes from being too trifling to hold down a job flipping burgers at Mickey D’s to being the executive chef for the dining room of a reputable financial institution like Morris-Morgan?
    He was like, “What? You saying you don’t believe me?” Before I could answer, he wrapped his hand around mine, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, “Faye, everything I have now—from this watch, to the Hilfiger on my back, to the Benz I drive—I earned the hard way. After I left Memphis, I went back to school, busted my tail, and kissed all the right behinds. If you’re anywhere near as ambitious and driven as you used to be, my success is something you ought to be able to appreciate.”
    I told him I was happy for him. I just couldn’t help but think that maybe I’d have a success story of my own to