November Rain Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Maureen Anderson

  All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in book reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either at the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-54399-127-7 (print)

  ISBN: 978-1-54399-128-4 (ebook)

  This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandmothers,

  Rose Webster Jones and Juanita Luna Torres.

  “They will be divided, father against son, son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother…” Luke 12:53

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Chapter One

  Antonio recognized her the second she walked into his restaurant. His heart trembled. Torri was beautiful in high school, but damn was she gorgeous now. Her long, thick brown curls cascaded past her shoulders, along the length of her back. The white halter dress fit her hourglass curves to perfection. The dress length flaunted her beautifully sculpted calves. From her neck hung the locket he gave her fifteen years ago.

  Heads turned as Torri sashayed toward the reservation desk. Jake glanced up from his cards from across the bar, awestruck by her loveliness. He elbowed his partner, Allen and nodded at Antonio. Jake pushed his cards aside and stood. Antonio placed a firm grasp on Jake’s shoulder and pushed him back onto the barstool. He stepped toward Torri but decided against it when his hostess approached her.

  “Welcome to November Rain. May I help you?” Delilah asked in her usual saucy voice.

  “Hello. I’m meeting my business partner. The reservation should be under Marcus Samuels.”

  Delilah smiled. “Ah, yes. Ms. Taylor, your table is ready. Please, right this way.”

  Torri followed the young lady to her table. Antonio leaned forward as he followed the gentle sway of her hips. He took a deep breath and toyed with the cool droplets clinging to his glass of water. As they walked, Delilah caught Antonio staring from the bar. She glanced back at Torri before he retreated to his office. Delilah knew Antonio for seven years and probably wondered what made him react that way. His office would protect him from further scrutiny and Torri’s irresistible charm.

  Torri detected a change in the hostess’ stride and followed her glance toward the bar. In the shadows of the far corner, she saw the figure of a man close the door to an office without ever looking back.

  “Someone will be right over. Enjoy your evening.” Delilah lit the candle on the table and rushed off before Torri could thank her.

  A bottle of champagne chilled and a single white rose rested on her dinner platter. “I hope she seated me at the right table.” Torri thought out loud.

  Torri soaked in the ambience and enjoyed the aroma of Southern and Caribbean spices floating in the air, until a chill ran through her veins. She felt uncomfortable. She rubbed her arms and tried to rid herself of the unnerving sensation. Torri hoped she didn’t pick up a bug before the big night. She glanced around and realized five waiters about to approach her. Each held two white roses. One by one, each handed her the roses, as they spoke in unison. “Roses are red. Roses are white. But, none are as beautiful as you are tonight.”

  Torri adored the attention and scanned the restaurant for her admirer. Then she recognized Marcus. He headed toward her with the final rose. Torri observed how charming Marcus looked in his blue-gray, double-breasted suit. He wore a light blue shirt and a silk burgundy tie. His well-sculpted body filled every inch. He stood at six feet tall, brown curly hair with a creamy brown complexion. He also had the most striking blue-gray eyes she ever saw on a man. Torri always appreciated how attractive he was, but she felt uneasy about getting involved with a close colleague.

  “A dozen of the most beautiful roses in the world couldn’t compare with your radiance.” Marcus placed the last rose in her hand.

  Torri blushed as she inhaled the bouquet. “Thank you, Marcus. What’s the occasion?”

  “Don’t you remember? Two years ago you asked me to assist you and I accepted. Tor, in just a few days your dream to open your own gallery will come true. A celebration is in order.”

  “Marcus, I’m flattered. I agree we should celebrate. Pop the champagne!”

  Marcus impressed Torri with the trouble he went through to make it a special night. She expected she should have butterflies in her stomach, a spark, a morsel of chemistry, but she did not. Marcus opened the champagne. Torri held her breath. Marcus was a wonderful man. But, was he the man for her?

  “Allow me to propose a toast. To us and a future of continued success.” Marcus raised his glass.

  “To us. Salud.”

  Torri and Marcus enjoyed their meal, which consisted of jerk ribs, macaroni and cheese, callalou and corn bread. Marcus broke the silence to tell Torri what he went through to arrange the dinner.

  “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I checked out several places before I discovered this spot. New York Magazine featured an enticing review in their latest issue. I called here and the owner was very accommodating. I’m embarrassed I can’t recall his name at the moment. I told him I wanted to do something memorable and romantic for my lady friend.”

  “Well, Marcus, this evening turned out to be a lovely surprise.” Torri glanced around. “There’s a special vibe here. I like it.” She shifted the conversation a bit. Marcus slipped in romance as part of his agenda. Sadly, it wasn’t on hers. “I’d love to meet the manager. I mean, he is the reason we’re here.”

  “Great idea.” Marcus raised his hand to signal the server.

  Antonio paced back and forth in his private office. When he agreed to let Marcus Samuels win the heart of a magnificent woman, he never fathomed it was his woman. Yes, he still thought of Torri as his woman. Even after fifteen years, Antonio held a special place for her in his heart. Witnessing her with another man crushed his heart. His emotions reeled. However, if she was happy, who was he to ruin that.

  He phoned Delilah. Within seconds, she bounced into his office.

  “Yes, Antonio,” she cooed.

  He ignored her playful tone and got straight to the point. “Is the couple at table seven still here?”

  “Yeah. Funny, I was on my way to tell you that they asked to meet you.”

  He eased back into his chair. His fingers grew
numb as he clenched the armrests. He couldn’t meet her yet. He feared her memory of their last encounter would overshadow the typical joy that accompanies a reunion. It’s possible, even worse in his eyes, she wouldn’t even recognize him.

  “Not tonight, but the tab is on me.”

  “You’ve been acting weird since they got here. What’s so special about them?” She folded her arms across her chest.

  Antonio stood and slammed his fist on his desk. “Don’t question me, Delilah. Just do as I say. Their dinner is on me. End of conversation. Tell Jake and Allen I had to head out. I’ll speak with them tomorrow.”

  Delilah spun on her heels and snatched the door open. “Whatever you say, Mr. Martins. Have a good evening.”

  Unsettled from the conversation and the reality of the circumstances Antonio dropped back into his black leather chair. He placed his head in his hand. He knew it was his fault they weren’t together. Of course, she’d fall in love with another man. It’d been fifteen years. He rose, pulled the keys to his truck from his jacket and exited through the back door of his office. He never imagined the decision to add the emergency exit would let him slip away from the love of his life, once again.

  “Marcus, I’m having a wonderful time. I appreciate the trouble you went through. The food here is delicious.”

  Marcus focused on her full lips. The dimple on her left cheek danced as she spoke. Torri looked away.

  “I hate to be a party pooper, but would you mind if I cut this evening short?”

  “Of course not, but is everything okay?”

  “Nothing serious. Probably just anxiety.”

  “Try not to stress. You’re too blessed for that. I’ll drive you home.” He motioned for the waiter. “Check please.”

  “You’re sweet, but that’s out of your way.”

  “Don’t worry. I invited you and I’d like to make sure you get home safely.”

  Delilah approached and smiled at Marcus. “I hope you enjoyed your meal with us. The owner, Mr. Martins, had to leave but he wanted me to tell you he’s taken care of everything.”

  “That was quite generous. I’m sorry we missed him.” Torri beamed.

  “He just came into town today; he spends most of his time at the restaurant’s DC location.”

  “I’ll make sure to return and thank him soon.” Marcus shook Delilah’s hand as he slipped her a fifty. “Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

  Torri pulled two tickets from her purse. “Please give these to Mr. Martins. They’re for my gallery opening Friday night. I’d love to have him and thank him personally.”

  “I’ll make sure he gets them.” Delilah placed the tickets in her pocket.

  A cool breeze waltzed in the air. Marcus handed the valet his ticket then wrapped his jacket around Torri. She pulled it tighter to fend off a similar chill she experienced earlier. For a brief moment, her eyes connected with the driver of champagne-colored Escalade parked in front of the restaurant, before the tinted windows rose, shutting her out. His doe-brown eyes appeared familiar, yet she failed to identify them before he pulled away.

  The valet returned with Marcus’ car and held the door open for Torri. She slid in and Marcus shut the door. The smooth ride along the FDR eased some of the tension she felt at the restaurant. When they arrived at her brownstone in Harlem, Marcus walked Torri to her door.

  “Thank you, Marcus. I had a great evening.”

  “My pleasure.” He placed a soft kiss on her unsuspecting lips.

  “Marcus...I don’t think this is a good idea.” Torri stuttered.

  He didn’t listen. He leaned in to kiss her again. Torri failed to resist. Marcus pulled her into his arms. Torri pushed away and smoothed her clothes. Before she looked into his eyes, she reminded herself of the pros and cons.

  “Marcus, I’m sorry. I repeat. This is not a good idea. We work too closely together.”

  He held her hand. “Torri, I know I surprised you with this. Take your time and think about it.”

  Torri slipped her hand out of his and stuck her key in the door. “Marcus, we should forget this ever happened.”

  “Sleep on it, Torri. I’m in no rush.” He strolled toward his car.

  Torri shut the door and slouched against it until the spinning stopped. She let out a low sigh. Somehow Torri maintained control where she knew other women tend to fold; she’d been there a few times. She had no idea how she’d fall asleep. It was too late to wake up her girlfriend, Jasmine, and fill her in on what happened. Torri shuffled past Jasmine’s apartment and headed up to her bedroom. She hoped a cool shower would help her get some sleep.

  Torri admired the evening clouds through her shower window. She reflected on her evening with Marcus. It had been a while since Torri settled in the arms of a man. She wondered if she should have given in to his advances. She stood lost in her train of thought as cool droplets flowed over each curve of her form. The warm water comforted and caressed her body. Torri closed her eyes and relished the moment. She tossed her head back. The spray rushed through her long curls. A strange chill jarred Torri from her trance. It was the third one she’d felt that evening. She opened the shower doors, grabbed a towel and hustled out of the bathroom.

  Shivering, she peeked out of her bedroom window. An Escalade sat across the street, champagne-colored. It reminded her of the one from earlier in the evening. She leapt back and placed her hand on her mouth, capturing her gasp. She remained pressed against the wall until she gathered her thoughts. Her heartbeat intensified with each frantic step toward her nightstand where her cell phone rested. Before punching in 911, Torri wrapped her silk kimono over her damp body and tiptoed back to the window. She needed to know who was bold enough to follow her. She breathed in and peeked one last time. Her heart sank. She pulled the curtain back further and stared at the empty parking spot.

  Antonio drove off once he realized Torri somehow detected his presence. He glanced into his side view mirror and almost hit the brakes when he caught a glimpse of her hourglass silhouette accentuated by the soft moonlight. He wished he possessed the strength to turn the car around or even turn time back, if he could. Antonio wanted to wrap his arms around her and apologize, as often as she needed to hear it. He pushed the pedal and increased the distance between them. She was a part of his past, a place that no longer existed. Torri and her date seemed happy at the restaurant. He had no right to interfere, although the rapid beat of his heart declared otherwise. Antonio checked his mirror. Torri’s image was no longer in his view. He leaned into the gas pedal; getting distance was the only option.

  Chapter Two

  Sleep tortured Antonio. Memories of Torri swarmed his dreams. Seeing her again transported him back to high school, a time when he realized he loved his best friend more than he dared to express. At the end of the school term, he finally built up the courage and decided he’d tell her after she tossed her cap into the air at graduation. An unfortunate tragic turn forced him to sever communication with Torri for what amounted to fifteen years. Since she walked into his restaurant, he pondered how different things would’ve been if he’d stuck around. Would they be married and proud parents of 2.5 children? Would he own November Rain or be a financial officer at a bank? He was too old to fantasize. Antonio stretched his taut muscles and replayed the events of the previous night.

  When Antonio left the restaurant, he planned to drive home and go for a late run. His plan fell apart the moment her eyes connected with his before he drove off. He knew it would be wrong to follow her home but it didn’t stop him. For at least thirty minutes, shreds of guilt and jealousy tugged at him while he sat hidden across from Torri’s house. Antonio struggled with what to do even after he witnessed the kiss she shared with her date. For fifteen years he’d safely tucked away his memory of her. He didn’t think about her day and night as he once did. All was well until he glimpsed her curvy silhouette in her wi
ndow.

  With his thoughts still wrapped around Torri, Antonio need to release a chunk of anxiety. He grabbed a pair of gray sweats thrown over his armoire door, tied his sneakers and headed for the beach. Antonio performed a series of stretches and journeyed along the golden brown sand. The sun’s heat grew stronger. He removed his damp shirt from his chiseled caramel frame. His black curls brushed against his shoulders as they dripped with sweat.

  “Hi, Antonio.” A couple of girls giggled as he sprinted past.

  Antonio nodded and continued along his journey. He traveled the same stretch of sand everyday for the past fifteen years. He ran for the first time after his mother’s funeral. He dashed straight to the beach and he’d been running ever since. His pace slowed. Antonio wiped his head with his shirt. The last time he saw Torri he asked her to be his girl, then he abandoned her without any explanation. She deserved better. He walked away once before and he wouldn’t do it again.

  Torri sat up in her bed. She peeked at her alarm clock. 5:37 AM. Torri tossed and turned most of the night, unable to understand why someone followed her home. She lived in the neighborhood for two years. She’d been in the public eye for at least five and never worried about stalkers. The gallery opening was just a day away; she needed to call her brother and step up security. Opening her gallery meant the world to her. She didn’t want anything to ruin its’ success.

  She slipped into her kimono and opened the French doors. They led from her bedroom to the small balcony that overlooked the now, busy streets of Mount Morris Park. Torri shared the four-story brownstone she inherited from her grandmother with her best friend, Jasmine.

  When they were young, Torri and her brother, Cliff, visited their grandmother every weekend. Most days, while Cliff played basketball at the park, Torri curled under her grandmother on her favorite burnt orange velvet sofa mesmerized by endless stories about Harlem. Other days, her grandmother, Claretta Rose, hummed the songs she sang in a few of Harlem’s hottest nightclubs, including the Cotton Club, as she braided Torri’s hair. Torri knew her grandmother hummed to distract her from whining about her tender head, although tears still slid down her face.