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When Tara finally returned to the ground and turned, her brown face went pale. Luke spotted Ashanti at the same time.
She licked her plump lips and seared Tara with a hard look. “Are you planning on writing a story about my personal life? What’s with the interrogation?”
“Ashanti.” Tara’s eyes darted back and forth. “When did you get here?”
“In time to catch you in the act.”
“Don’t be like that,” Tara mumbled. “I was just curious.”
Ashanti pointed to the door. “See yah.”
Tara plodded out.
Ashanti turned to him with a sigh. She wore a black T-shirt over a pleated skirt. Her hair was slung in a low ponytail and tight curls popped out along her ears. Her mocha skin glistened in the sunlight and he was, for the hundredth time, blown away by her transformation.
The Ashanti he knew and loved wore her hair frizzy and blown out. She liked baggy T-shirts and ratty shorts. Whenever he met her in a professional setting, he always felt like he was staring at her more sophisticated twin.
Ashanti stepped deeper into the cubicle and frowned. “I’m busy, Luke. What do you want?”
“Why didn’t you tell me my mom ambushed you?”
She brushed past him and, since it was a small cubicle, he was forced to back up and give her space. “It wasn’t important.”
“It’s the most important thing,” Luke hissed.
Ashanti glanced up and the anger in her eyes surprised him. “I handled it. Okay? Thanks for stopping by.”
It was a clear snub, one that Luke didn’t appreciate.
“Fine,” he spit. Without a backward glance, Luke turned and left the building.
Chapter Sixteen
Ashanti parked in front of her house but couldn’t drum up the energy to get out. The quiet neighborhood surrounded her like a dark cocoon. The wind howled in the coconut trees. The sound was loud enough to seep into her closed car.
She leaned her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. Immediately, an image of Luke’s hurt expression in her office earlier popped into mind.
Ashanti groaned and rolled on her side. Her eyes opened a smidge and her gaze landed on a ghostly figure peering into her window. A scream tore from her throat and she leaped back, almost landing on the stick shift.
Her adrenaline still pumping, Ashanti put a hand to her heart and studied the face that was pressed against the glass. Her second impression warned that this was no ghostly visitation.
Ashanti eased back into the driver’s seat and rolled the window down. Her neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, smiled. She wore an oversized floral shirt and turquoise cut-offs. The rollers in her hair had given her head the strange shape that Ashanti’s body had rejected as ‘normal’.
“Ashanti, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Henderson,” she said breathlessly.
“Can I speak to you?”
Ashanti swallowed and pushed the door open. Mrs. Henderson stepped back to give her room. Ashanti planted her feet on the tarmac. Her heart was finally slowing down, but she was sure Mrs. Henderson had stolen ten years of her lifetime.
“How’s your father?” Mrs. Henderson asked, her black eyes flashing with interest.
Ashanti pursed her lips. Mrs. Henderson attended her church and was one of the ladies who had the hots for her dad. “He’s fine. Enjoying his cruise.”
“I don’t know why Randal would indulge in such an ungodly trip. There are plenty of wholesome, God-fearing ladies right here in the city. In this very neighborhood!”
Ashanti almost snorted.
