Happy New Year, Baby Page 3

  “Depends on who you talk to.” Eric muttered.

  “Yeah, I saw a news clip from the other day. Some lady.” Chris laughed.

  “Yes indeed,” Eric said.

  “She sure knew her stuff. Not the impractical do-gooder you were expecting.” Chris watched Eric closely. “What’s her name?”

  “Shani Moore. Eric gazed out the window again. “She works for that big community service agency in Easy Town.”

  “Lovely name. Shani means ‘marvelous’ in Swahili. In Kiswhahili it translates as ‘an adventure.’“ Chris rubbed his chin with a thoughtful expression.

  “Really?”

  Eric felt a pleasant flush. He thought of the curve of her full lips when she smiled up at him. The perfume she wore was spicy and sweet at the same time. Or was that the natural scent of her skin. It would be nice to get close enough to … What’s the matter with me? Eric shook his head as though to clear it. With a start, he noticed Chris examining him. He frowned and looked at the papers again.

  “Ms. Moore has some misguided ideas about what the black community needs. Liberal policies of the past got us into this mess. African-Americans don’t need handouts, they need opportunity.” Eric spoke in a gruff voice.

  “Got to you, huh?”

  “Nonsense,” Eric said with too much force.

  “She is one fine babe.” Chris goaded him. “Silky, smooth skin the color of cinnamon. All the right curves in all the right places. Yep, she’s got it goin’ on.”

  “She did not ‘get to me’ as you put it,” Eric snapped. “The woman has a mouth on her that won’t quit. She all but called me an Uncle Tom.” He slammed down a heavy manual, which caused several sheets of paper to fly off his desk.

  “Got under your skin for sure.” Chris picked up the papers.

  “You damn right she did. Any black person who doesn’t spout the traditional liberal pap, who shows some sense of being able to think on his own, has to defend his racial credentials. It’s preposterous.” Eric’s jaw muscles clenched. This was infuriating. The woman had him daydreaming about holding her close in one instant and enraging him in the next.

  “And you’re going to tell her so next week, right?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Trumaine told me. He says you’ve got a deadline to get proposed bills in so the party can move early in the session.”

  Eric ran his fingers through his hair. “Which is why I’ve been working twelve-hour days for over a week now. Trumaine is getting more notes from the lawyers now.”

  “Senator Raymond breathing down your neck to take a strong stand, eh?”

  “He wants to get the wheels turning fast. He’s long been vocal about the waste in the budget.” Eric thought of the veteran politician who at long last saw his party rise to power on the national and state level. Senator Raymond and other conservatives were impatient to proceed with their brand of reforms.

  “This complication won’t help then.” Chris lifted his hands.

  “Complication? What complication?”

  “Falling for the opposition. Those guys don’t impress me as the kind who would understand that sort of thing. You know, sleeping with the enemy.” Chris studied his fingernails.

  Eric’s mouth flew open. “What … No way.” He arranged his expression to be one of relaxed disdain. “Sure she’s attractive. But …” He let the sentence hang, implying he was more than capable of dealing with the wiles of pretty women.

  “So the only reason you made a point to arrange another meeting is to set her straight.” Chris raised both eyebrows in a skeptical expression that spoke volumes.

  “I’m going to lay some hard facts on Ms. Moore that she’ll find hard to refute.” Eric dug a folder from underneath the others. “When I’m done, she’s going to eat her words. When I’m through, she’s going to be agreeing with me.” He smiled with confidence.

  “Smart move. Then getting next to her will be a snap. Still, I’ve never seen you respond with such… intensity to any woman before now. Ms. Moore is something special.”

  “Forget it, man. If I was ready to get serious with anyone, and I’m not, it would be someone who shares my values.” Eric waved away his suggestion. “My only focus is to make sure we have a reasonable budget and show social workers like Ms. Moore that the old way of tackling social ills does not work. Next Thursday will be a real education for her.”

  “If you say so.” Chris gave an amused grunt before leaving. “Have a good time.”

  Eric searched for a smart comeback, but could think of nothing to say.

  ***

  “Aunt Shani, look what I made for you.” Colin held up a large red Christmas stocking with her name written in gold glitter on it. “It’s for hanging on the mantle.” His small upturned face searched hers for approval.

  Shani wanted to squeeze him tight, but knew better. Now that he was a grown-up ten-year-old, he resisted such gross displays of affection. She was surprised at the tears that threatened to spill down her face. His gift touched her heart.

  “I love it, sweetie.”

  “I made Mama and Daddy and Kara one, too.” Colin held up the other stockings.

  “Magnificent. Can old auntie give you a tiny kiss?” She could not resist at least one surrender to sentiment.

  Colin grinned with satisfaction at pleasing her. He offered his smooth little face before darting off to play again.

  Shani sighed as she watched him. She sat in her older brother’s spacious den waiting for her sister-in-law to return with their coffee. The radio played jazzy holiday tunes. Shani mused at how much Colin resembled her youngest brother J.J. at that age. A brief spasm of pain touched her chest at the thought of J.J. sitting in prison on Christmas day.

  J.J. was serving a ten-year sentence for selling cocaine. Shani and Brendon long ago adopted an attitude of tough love toward him. He was only two years old when their father died and had no clear memory of him. And he was only fourteen when their mother succumbed to breast cancer. J.J. had always been the wild rule breaker of the family. Sadly, he graduated from mischief as a young boy to breaking the law as a teenager. Now at twenty-one, he all ready had a long criminal record. For years Shani spent lots of time and money getting him out of trouble. Brendon finally convinced her that she was enabling J.J. to continue his self-destructive lifestyle.

  Shani gazed at the family photo displayed on the bookcase. Brendon seemed solemn despite the slight smile on his attractive dark brown face. While the grief at losing both their parents so soon had caused J.J. to strike out at the world through law breaking and Shani to fight for those in need, Brendon found solace in his career as a computer analyst. He also worked very hard at making a warm, loving family.

  “Hello, sis.” Brendon patted her shoulder.

  Shani blinked in surprise at his presence. So lost in thought, she had not heard him enter the house. “Hi.”

  “What are you thinking about so hard? All those gifts you got for your wonderful older brother, I hope.” Brendon began to sort through a stack of mail.

  “You wish,” Shani shot back.

  “Here we are.” Janine swept in. Tall, she still moved with the grace of a model even though she had been a full-time mother since the birth of Kara four years ago. “Hi, baby.” She kissed Brendon after putting the tray down on the end table near Shani.

  “Hmm, thanks.” Brendon took a cup of steaming coffee. “The perfect wife. Greets her husband with a treat when he gets home from a hard day.”

  “It’s the least I can do since you’re taking us out to dinner.” Janine flashed her famous dazzling smile at him.

  “I am?” Brendon laughed.

  “I spent all day wrestling with your little dynamo of a daughter while shopping. Thank goodness she’s still napping. She wore herself out. Anyway, I got the art supplies J.J. wants. It will be a wonderful surprise for him when he opens his gift.”

  Brendon’s mouth turned down at the mention of J.J. “All that talen
t and what does he do with his life? Nothing. Worse than nothing.”

  “Brendon, please.” Janine glanced at Shani with a look of helplessness. “J.J. says he wants to turn his life around.”

  “Sure he does. Now that he’s serving hard time.” Brendon shook his head.

  Shani could see through Brendon’s anger to the real pain at losing his brother to the streets. “You did all you could, Brendon. We both did. We were barely out of our teens and still dealing with Mama’s death.”

  “But J.J. has to take responsibility for his choices, too,” Brendon said.

  “I agree. Still, we could have used something like the ‘Lean On Me’ mentor program operated by Mid-City.” Shani grimaced. “Which is why I intend to fight any cuts to our agency and others like it.”

  “Let me know if I can help. I’ll write letters, send faxes and e-mail those jokers to let them know we won’t take it lying down.” Janine nodded.

  “Thanks, you’re a real pearl. Well, I better get going. I have an early day tomorrow and Saturday I’m going to visit J.J.”

  “Good, you can take our gifts to him.” Brendon pressed his lips together and began to open his mail.

  “What! You’ve got to go see him. J.J. will be so hurt if you don’t.” Shani stood in front of him with her feet apart, hands on both hips.

  “Shani, I don’t want another Christmas tainted by having to visit a prison. J.J. was in jail this time last year and I bailed him out.”

  “You’re right but—”

  “The year before he showed up at my house with a lot of expensive gifts and some hooker on his arm, in front of my children. Expensive gifts bought with blood money. No, my family will have a normal Christmas this year.” Brendon’s jaw was set in the way that indicated he would not be convinced to alter his decision.

  “But Brendon please…” Shani felt the urge to cry return, this time for a very different reason.

  “That’s final, Shani.”

  Driving home, Shani tried to be furious with her older brother and failed. The truth was she could not blame him. Brendon had spent more than one holiday traversing the criminal justice system on J.J.‘s behalf. Feeling tired and dispirited, Shani put on her pajamas first thing when she got home. She spent the rest of the evening staring at the television. It was midnight before she knew it. Lying in bed for hours, she went over in her head how to tell J.J. Brendon would not visit him.

  ***

  “So you see, we have no choice. Sources tell me Senator Raymond has the votes to push his plan through the legislature.” Harold Carrington IV, president of Mid-City’s Board of Directors patted his gray mustache with the linen napkin.

  The dignified architect sat across from Shani in his favorite restaurant overlooking the Mississippi river in downtown Baton Rouge. He picked at a large shrimp and crabmeat salad while breaking the bad news that several programs would be scaled back July first, the beginning of the fiscal year.

  “I don’t think we need to make such definite moves yet, sir. We had a lot of support down at the hearing.” Shani had pleaded for the better part of an hour. Her lunch, a bowl of chicken gumbo, sat untouched.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to be realistic. Walter and I have feelers out to get some limited corporate funding, but for very different kinds of projects. Batton Chemical prefers less… controversial things such as planting flower gardens to beautify streets and parks. Projects I favored all along.” Carrington shook a finger at her.

  “And as I’ve said all along, the problems of the Easy Town are much bigger than cosmetic touches can help.”

  “When folks have a pleasant environment, they take pride in themselves. It’s been done in other cities with great results.”

  Shani swallowed a lump of frustration. “But we need to focus on more immediate problems first.”

  Carrington twisted his wrist to stare at his fancy watch. “I have an appointment with some people from New Orleans. I’m sorry to bring bad news and run. But really, Ms. Moore, this may be a blessing in disguise.”

  “But can we meet later?” Shani tried to get a commitment for further discussion. The look on his face said it would be fruitless.

  “I suppose.” He shrugged. “I’ll get back to you. So long.” He left after giving the waiter his gold card to pay for the lunch.

  Shani sat alone, oblivious of the chatter of the full dining room around her. Somehow she must make the board members see that giving up was not the answer. She sat brooding over this new menace when a familiar voice jarred her back to her surroundings.

  “Ms. Moore, how are you?” Eric Aucoin’s posture, he was some two feet from her, seemed to be one of caution. Close enough to be cordial, yet far enough for a graceful exit if rebuffed.

  Shani was too depressed for another confrontation. “Fine and you?” she said in a mechanical voice. Her face mirrored the distress churning inside.

  “Fine.” Eric cleared his throat. “May I join you? Of course, if you would prefer…” He backed up a few inches when her eyes went wide.

  “Oh, no. Have a seat.”

  His request caught her completely off guard. Fortunately, her mother’s etiquette lessons put her on automatic pilot. For several minutes they exchanged small talk about the food at Angelle’s. Shani recommended he get the soup and salad special. She noticed how his hands, large with smooth skin, made the silverware look tiny. The delicate scent of Armani cologne floated toward her as he waved to the waitress for more iced tea. Eric looked at her and smiled. In an instant, her gloom lifted. Shani smiled back at him.

  “So, here we are sharing lunch and you haven’t tried to strangle me for being an insensitive traitor to the community.” Eric watched her reaction closely.

  Shani fingered the cloth napkin. “Yeah, well it’s been a bad month. Look, some of the things I said the other day may have been…”

  “Insulting? Over the line? Down, dirty, and personal?” Eric dark eyebrows went up. But his lips twitched with amusement.

  “Okay, okay. It’s just that the programs you’re targeting can mean the difference between life and death for some.” Shani leaned forward.

  “Can you deny some of the abuses that have occurred? Look at that Project Neighborhood Uplift scandal. Hundreds of thousands of dollars unaccounted for. Huge salaries, so-called consultants paid exorbitant amounts to study the needs of the Banks area. Most of the consultants were Marvin Gravelle’s relatives and friends.” Eric’s jaws tightened with outrage.

  “I know. But—”

  “And that’s not an isolated case, Ms. Moore. There is a serious lack of accountability. This voter backlash can be traced right back to the actions of those of you in the human service profession.” Eric drew in a deep breath. “I mean…”

  “You’re right.” Shani put down her soup spoon.

  “What?” He blinked at her in amazement.

  “I’ve seen darn good programs made useless by so-called leaders using them to pay back supporters. Those of us trying to get the money to folks who need it have been as mad as the voters. But what could we do?” Shani tapped her fingers on the table. “They’ve got low friends in high places.”

  Eric threw back his head. Rich deep laughter came out. “I love it. Ms. Moore, you’re priceless.”

  Shani felt a rush of pleasure at the approval in his clear eyes. How splendid to know she could make him laugh.

  “Well, we want fiscal responsibility, too. But I’m sure your party members don’t think so. And the work we do isn’t valued at all I’m afraid.” She tried to get back to the subject that divided them to counteract the rising desire inside.

  “Talking to you has been a real eye-opener. It seems we share common ground after all.” Eric leaned closer to her. “I’d like us to—”

  “Senator, I made it after all.” A tall thin young man bustled up to their table. “My goodness but Representative Brella can talk. A simple planning session with the other aides became a long lecture when he wandered in to the office.
Oh, hello.” He stopped short seeing Shani. His voice was cool.

  Eric patted the younger man’s arm. “Have a seat. Trumaine Delacrosse, this is Ms. Shani Moore.” Eric turned to Shani. “Trumaine is a political science major at Southern University. His father and mine were at Tuskegee together. Trumaine is my able assistant.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Shani nodded at the wary young man.

  “Uh, are you okay?” Trumaine gave Eric a long, meaningful look.

  Shani chuckled. “Don’t worry. I haven’t hurt your boss.”

  “In fact, Ms. Moore and I actually agree in a few areas. Something neither of us anticipated. I certainly didn’t.” Eric gazed at her. Several seconds of silence hung between them. A trill of beeping broke it.

  “That’s me.” Trumaine glanced at his smart phone.

  “You’re excused to take that call, Trumaine. Go use it.” Eric did not look away from Shani.

  “Uh, right.” Trumaine cleared his throat and stood. He pointed in the direction he was headed. “On my way.”

  “Wait for me there. I’ll be out in a minute.” Eric waved at him.

  “Yes, sir. Nice meeting you, Ms. Moore.” Trumaine wore a knowing grin as he glanced at Eric then at her.

  “I really look forward to visiting your center, Ms. Moore.” Eric fingered the long-handled teaspoon in front of him. “But I’d like to have more in-depth background information about the origin of Mid-City Community Development and its staff before I get there. It would make my tour more meaningful.”

  Shani steadied her breathing. Don’t be such a fool. This is all business. Isn’t it? “I’d be happy to provide whatever you need.” She blushed. Shani prayed the possible double meaning of those words that sprang to her mind was not written all over her.

  “Excellent. What about lunch on Tuesday? I know a little restaurant on Nicholson that’s very quiet. Rick’s would be perfect.” Eric beamed at her.

  Shani was impressed in spite of herself. Rick’s was quiet because the prices on its menu meant only a relatively small clientele patronized it. Though she had never been there, Shani knew it was a favorite among the politically powerful and wealthiest people in Baton Rouge.