slowly rocked his neck from side to side, but his tense muscles refused to relax and his empty stomach rumbled in protest. Sighing with regret, he knew that it was finally time to call it a night. Propelling out of his chair, he quickly stuffed the case files into his briefcase, slid on his office jacket and crammed his tie into his pocket.
As he exited the building of Kendall, Hendrix and Gray, LLC, he contemplated which fast-food drive-through he was in the mood for. Once behind the wheel of his black Cadillac SRX Crossover, he elected instead to finish off some leftovers he had back at the crib. He’d always been careful to take care of his body through regular exercise and a healthy diet, and there was no need to wreck all that for a greasy burger.
It was well past eight o’clock by the time he finally pulled into his large two-car garage. As usual when he headed toward the garage door that led into the kitchen, he tossed a longing look toward his old wood workshop. His man space, as Erica used to call it. How long had it been now since he’d lost himself in the hobby of building things—six years…seven?
He had always enjoyed working and making things with his hands. It had a way of relaxing him. However, with the influx of bank and credit fraud, his law firm had enjoyed a healthy spike in litigation and court cases. There just hadn’t been any time to whittle the hours away in his workshop.
Soon, he promised himself. He’d make the time one day soon.
Lucius entered the house, flipped on the light switch, placed his briefcase on the counter and made a beeline toward the refrigerator. Thirty minutes later he was settled at the dinner table and casually sifting through the day’s mail. He stopped when he came across the envelope from Hollington College.
His smile was instant. “Hollington.” He chuckled, opening the envelope. “My old stomping grounds.” Suddenly memories of football and frat parties filled his head, as well as the small string of college shawties he’d juggled while struggling to maintain his high GPA.
“‘October homecoming weekend,’” he read. His eyes quickly scanned over the invitation card. “Tenth anniversary? Has it been that long already?” He shook his head. Where had all the time gone? Thinking about it, a lot had happened in ten years: marriage, law school, law practice, a baby, working like hell, making partner, working like hell, divorce, working like hell.
There was a theme in there somewhere.
“All work and no play make Lucius a dull man,” he whispered. He glanced up and truly took stock of the empty dining-room chairs surrounding the table. Outside, the evening crickets played their songs while his expensively furnished house felt awfully cold…and lonely.
His gaze shifted back to the invitation. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. A little time out with some old friends…and old girlfriends.
“Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”
“I don’t see why,” Beverly said, straightening a rack of embellished skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twentysomethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkly chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture lent a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”
“Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”
“I’ll give you three. For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold, padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”
“You seem stressed, Bev. Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?”
“So you can pressure me into going to the reunion?” Beverly shook her head. “No way. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m up to my neck in paperwork and it’s going to take me the rest of the afternoon to fill the online orders.”
“Beverly, you’ve been dodging my calls for weeks and the reunion is less than a month away. I need to help finalize the rest of the plans for homecoming.”
She said nothing, just continued dressing the mannequin and humming to the Smokey Robinson song playing in the background.
Kyra heaved a heavy sigh. “So, that’s it? You’re not going and there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”
Beverly gave a brisk nod, and then changed the subject. “I was at my favorite fabric store last week and it seemed the whole town was abuzz with the news of Terrence’s big return.”
“Yeah, his arrival has generated a lot of good press for the school. We’re received hundreds of online applications, and we had so much traffic on the Web site yesterday, it crashed!”
“I bet,” Beverly agreed. “After all, he is the pride of Hollington.”
“I’m lining up as many interviews as I can. I even contacted my old sorority sister, Tamara Hodges, about doing an article on Terrence becoming the Lions’ coach.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got him to sign on already?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
Beverly started to speak, but her words were drowned out by a shrill, piercing laugh. Realizing they needed privacy, Kyra grabbed Beverly’s hand and dragged her into the back office. While the boutique was bright and glitzy, the office was a simple, understated space teeming with fashion magazines, invoices and poster boards. “Now,” Kyra began, closing the door and standing in front of it, “spill it. What’s the real reason you won’t go to the reunion?”
Beverly stood her ground. “You’re not going to change my mind, so you might as well save your breath.”
“The class of ninety-nine voted you homecoming queen, Beverly. How’s it going to look if you don’t show up?”
“Like I’m a popular fashion designer who has orders to fill.” Straightening up, she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze drifting to the open window. “Kyra, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’ve moved on from beauty pageants and modeling contests. I want to be taken as a serious businesswoman and that’s not going to happen if I’m riding on top of a flowered float.”
In an effort to keep the peace, Kyra listened to what she had to say without interrupting. Beverly was frowning, and she could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that her mind was somewhere else. “Why does it feel like you’re blowing me off?”
“I’d never do that,” Beverly insisted, shaking her head. “We’re friends, remember?”
“Then can a sister get a discount on that gold Ferragamo gown?”
Beverly gave a brief sputter of laughter.
“Hanging
