Déjà Vu by Suzetta Perkins Read Free Book Online Page B

off. A young woman carrying packages and a briefcase got on and held onto the pole in front of Angelica. As the train began to pull out of the station, the woman held the pole tightly with her hands and wrapped her thighs around the middle. Her bags were trapped between her feet and the bottom of the pole. The strap of her purse was slung over her shoulder. The movement of the train made her body swing along the pole like she was dancing on stage, and as the woman sought to hold on, Angelica had a flashback of her life before Hamilton.
    Angelica was a lot like the woman holding the pole. She held the pole like she owned it, making love to it with gestures that aroused the gentlemen who stared at her partially clad body. Theybegged her to take it all off. The woman at the pole had done this many times before because she moved with the train, squirming and leaning up against the pole when the moment called for it.
    “You all right?” Donna asked Angelica. “You seem to be in a daze.”
    “Thinking about life,” Angelica said.
    “Well, get ready, because the next stop is ours. We’ll have a light dinner, enjoy some jazz, and meet some people I’ve asked to join us.”
    “Oh,” was all Angelica could say.
    They got off at the next stop, Angelica following Donna like a lost puppy. Dusk had fallen quickly, but the feel of the nightlife was overtaking Angelica. And she liked how it felt.
    “Why do they call it SoHo?” Angelica asked.
    “Because it’s south of Houston Street. It’s not just that, though. This is the place where artists come alive—galleries full of artwork and boutiques that sell cutting-edge fashions. Here’s the place.”
    The music floated outside. Laid-back business types sucked on draft beer, trying to relieve the stress of the week, and others sipped martinis to set the mood for the rest of the evening.
    Angelica followed Donna to a table in a corner where three very attractive ladies sat. They could have easily been the women in the portraits that hung on the walls in Donna’s studio. Their makeup was flawless and the weaves on their heads cost at least a thousand dollars a pop. Broad smiles were on their faces as the two approached.
    “Hey, sweetie,” Donna said to each woman in turn, while pecking each with a dainty kiss to the lips. “This is my cousin, Angelica. She’s the one I was telling you about.”
    Angelica extended her hand and sat down. She would not be placing any kisses on anyone’s lips or jaws.
    “Hey, Angelica, I’m Jazz. This is Madeline to my right and Coco on my left. Glad to meet you.”
    “The pleasure is mine.”
    “Angelica flew in from North Carolina,” Donna offered. “She’ll loosen up after a while.”
    “We’re fashion divas,” Jazz said while the others laughed, including Donna. “Your cousin is a model’s gift to the big time.”
    “That’s what I hear,” Angelica said. “It appears she is very successful.”
    “So why have you come to the Big Apple?” Jazz asked, her accent thick and deep. Her facial features seemed exotic. Angelica figured her to be West Indian.
    “To get away from my past,” Angelica said with a frown. These women were beginning to annoy her, and she hadn’t been in the place five good minutes.
    “So what is your past?” Coco asked, opening her mouth for the first time.
    Angelica looked from Coco to Donna. She wasn’t sure what Donna had shared with these ladies, but her past was none of their business.
    “My past is just that—my past,” Angelica responded. “I need a drink.”
    Donna waved the waitress over and ordered two martinis. Angelica let out a small sigh. She wasn’t used to someone taking control over her every movement. She was a grown woman capable of ordering her own drink. In fact, Angelica was not very comfortable with the little group that was assembled. Maybe she was tired. Tomorrow would be a new day.
    “They have wonderful sandwiches here, Angelica,” Donna said. “I think I’ll have a