an awkward silence as we walked down the stairs. I was about to comment on the weather when Mrs. Renald stepped out the door with Jacques, her little chihuahua, trailing behind. Jacques immediately began barking. I bent down and gave him a pat on the head as he sniffed my shoes for Simba’s scent.
“Sorry, ole boy, no treats this time,” I whispered, giving the energetic dog a quick scratch behind the ear.
“Leah, you look très belle .”
I straightened up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Who is this young man with you?” She peered up at Traxx through her glasses.
“Let me introduce you to…” I opened and closed my mouth. I didn’t know his real name.
He reached out and took her small delicate hand within his own. “Trey Matos. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
My lips curved into a smile. The man was politeness itself.
The older woman shook his hand and then turned his large palm over in her small hands. She studied it closely. I watched as Traxx shifted uncomfortably and glanced at me in confusion. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Mrs. Renald patted Traxx’s cheek with her other hand and smiled benignly.
“Oh, she gonna have her hands full with this one.” The older woman adjusted her grip on Jacques’s leash and opened the door leading out of the brownstone, leaving Traxx and me staring.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip to keep from laughing. He looked at me as if I was crazy anyway.
“Couldn’t tell you.” I had an idea, or maybe it was hope. Who knows? We walked out the building and he led me to the passenger side of his SUV, opened the door and helped me inside.
Traxx entered the Jeep as I looked out into the night through tinted windows.
“So you and Rena are sisters?” he asked later while merging onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
In my heart, we were sisters. “We grew up together.” If Rena hadn’t disclosed our connection, I wasn’t about to.
“She told me you work with the Internet. That’s cool.”
I smiled. He thought my job was cool. I looked toward the roof to keep in a snort. Traxx’s album had gone platinum and he had his own small money management firm. “It gets hectic sometimes but it’s fun. What about you? Where’d you get the accent?”
“You noticed, huh?” He glanced at me. “Some of my relatives live in Arkansas. I love to listen to them tell their stories during our family reunions. I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. My family still lives there.”
“How are you liking the East Coast?” I reached out to grab the door handle as he hit the brakes. He swore and honked his horn, just like a New Yorker.
“It’s okay except for these crazy cab drivers.”
I laughed, and the sound spread through the automobile. I knew exactly how he felt. “Next time try the subway. It’ll save you the stress.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about that,” he replied.
“So do you know…” I broke off at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“Please exit at the next ramp.”
“…Nina?”
“She and I went to Stanford together,” he replied.
“Left turn onto Park Avenue.”
“That’s cool.”
“I’m proud of my girl. She worked hard for this.”
“She’s got an amazing voice.”
“Turn right at the next light.”
We parked two blocks away from the club. Traxx put his arm around my back and we blended into the well-dressed club crowd headed towards Fifty-first Street. We turned the corner to see limousines slowly stopping to let out their glamorous passengers while photographers struggled to push past security and each other. Traxx somehow managed to walk us through security after nodding to the crew of muscular, black-clad guards.
Before I knew it we were walking up the stairs behind a trio of Versace-clad women. There were handsome men all over the place dressed in Brooks Brothers suits with nice shiny Kenneth Cole shoes. Every woman in the club was dressed to kill and the low lighting
“Sorry, ole boy, no treats this time,” I whispered, giving the energetic dog a quick scratch behind the ear.
“Leah, you look très belle .”
I straightened up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Who is this young man with you?” She peered up at Traxx through her glasses.
“Let me introduce you to…” I opened and closed my mouth. I didn’t know his real name.
He reached out and took her small delicate hand within his own. “Trey Matos. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
My lips curved into a smile. The man was politeness itself.
The older woman shook his hand and then turned his large palm over in her small hands. She studied it closely. I watched as Traxx shifted uncomfortably and glanced at me in confusion. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Mrs. Renald patted Traxx’s cheek with her other hand and smiled benignly.
“Oh, she gonna have her hands full with this one.” The older woman adjusted her grip on Jacques’s leash and opened the door leading out of the brownstone, leaving Traxx and me staring.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip to keep from laughing. He looked at me as if I was crazy anyway.
“Couldn’t tell you.” I had an idea, or maybe it was hope. Who knows? We walked out the building and he led me to the passenger side of his SUV, opened the door and helped me inside.
Traxx entered the Jeep as I looked out into the night through tinted windows.
“So you and Rena are sisters?” he asked later while merging onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
In my heart, we were sisters. “We grew up together.” If Rena hadn’t disclosed our connection, I wasn’t about to.
“She told me you work with the Internet. That’s cool.”
I smiled. He thought my job was cool. I looked toward the roof to keep in a snort. Traxx’s album had gone platinum and he had his own small money management firm. “It gets hectic sometimes but it’s fun. What about you? Where’d you get the accent?”
“You noticed, huh?” He glanced at me. “Some of my relatives live in Arkansas. I love to listen to them tell their stories during our family reunions. I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. My family still lives there.”
“How are you liking the East Coast?” I reached out to grab the door handle as he hit the brakes. He swore and honked his horn, just like a New Yorker.
“It’s okay except for these crazy cab drivers.”
I laughed, and the sound spread through the automobile. I knew exactly how he felt. “Next time try the subway. It’ll save you the stress.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about that,” he replied.
“So do you know…” I broke off at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“Please exit at the next ramp.”
“…Nina?”
“She and I went to Stanford together,” he replied.
“Left turn onto Park Avenue.”
“That’s cool.”
“I’m proud of my girl. She worked hard for this.”
“She’s got an amazing voice.”
“Turn right at the next light.”
We parked two blocks away from the club. Traxx put his arm around my back and we blended into the well-dressed club crowd headed towards Fifty-first Street. We turned the corner to see limousines slowly stopping to let out their glamorous passengers while photographers struggled to push past security and each other. Traxx somehow managed to walk us through security after nodding to the crew of muscular, black-clad guards.
Before I knew it we were walking up the stairs behind a trio of Versace-clad women. There were handsome men all over the place dressed in Brooks Brothers suits with nice shiny Kenneth Cole shoes. Every woman in the club was dressed to kill and the low lighting
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