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Adrienne blew her nose and struggled to regain control of herself.
“Enough about me,” Lloyd said briskly. “I’d like to hear about you. Are you happy?”
“Yes . . . well, I will be.”
“What a curious answer. When will you be happy?”
“My husband and I are having some problems. I will be happy when they are resolved.”
“Are you sure they can be resolved?” he asked. “Sometimes two people come to a fork in the road, and the only thing left to do is go in opposite directions.”
“I’m trying to avoid that.” Adrienne answered. “Lloyd, I just want to say that I’m sorry for anything I’ve ever done to hurt you. Please believe me.”
Lloyd gave her a wan smile. “I know that, Adrienne. You were just a kid. Neither of us knew anything about life or love. Now, please stop sniveling and tell me about Dan. I thought about him a lot over the years. He always seemed so meek. The exact opposite of you. How did his life turn out?”
Adrienne wiped her eyes and blew her nose again. “Dan is fine. He graduated from City College with a degree in history and then went to a trade school to learn photography. He’s married now. His wife, Charlene, is a social worker.”
“That figures,” Lloyd said, a strange grin on his face.
Adrienne felt uncomfortable. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, reaching for his drink. “It’s just that I would not have expected any less for Dan. It sounds like he has lived the perfect life.”
Adrienne didn’t know what Lloyd was getting at, but she wasn’t in the mood to press it further. She picked at her salmon and watched him eat. The odd lunch date could not end soon enough.
Late that night, as Adrienne lay in bed waiting for Mel to come home, she went over every minute of her lunch with Lloyd. There was something cold and remote about him, but that was really none of her business. She admired the way he had dragged himself out of a hopeless situation and built a successful career. He was also an old friend who had power and influence at her place of employment. Since she was too old for a singing career, maybe God had sent LaMar back into her life so that she could make a second grab at the brass ring. But why would God do that for her after she had failed as a mother and wasn’t setting any records in the wife department either?
Adrienne fell asleep with that question floating in her mind.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The bar didn’t have a name. It was located in an abandoned tenement off 135th Street. The outside was so scrawled with graffiti that it was impossible to discern the building’s original color. Years ago, people had lived in the apartments upstairs, but now every single window was broken, and trash littered the stoop. The front door had been cemented shut to prevent squatters and drug users from getting in, but if you were brave enough to take a short walk through the back alley, there was a black door with a small pane of glass in the middle.
To get in, a customer had to ring the bell and wait until one of the barmaids peered suspiciously through the glass. If she didn’t recognize the face, the bell went unanswered. It was as simple as that. If the door opened, the customer followed the barmaid down a short, dark hallway, where a man with a handheld metal detector stood in front of another door. There was a cardboard box sitting on the floor beside the man. If you were packing any kind of weapon, it had to go in the box. No one had ever been dumb enough or high enough to refuse to put their knife or gun in the box. Mel dropped his switchblade without being asked and followed the young barmaid, whose name was Tina, down a short flight of steps and through a second door that led into the bar where Debra and her friends eked out a living. Tina turned and smiled at him as they entered. “Ain’t seen you here in a long time, Mel. Where you been hidin’?”
Mel swatted her on the backside. “Busy workin’, Tina. You stayin’ outa trouble?”
She giggled and sashayed over to the jukebox without answering.
Mel blinked so his eyes could adjust to the dim room after the bright streetlight. He noticed that there were only about ten customers in the gigantic space. The joint wouldn’t start jumping until it was dark and the other businesses on the street had closed up for the night.
He took a stool near the door and waited while Debra slapped down a mug of beer in front of a young guy who seemed to be talking to himself. She sauntered over and stood in front of Mel, her hands on her hips and a friendly grin on her face.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Ann, who was washing glasses at the end of the bar, waved a soapy hand at him. Belle was wiping down the counter. She wiped her way to stand beside Debra.
“Tina’s feedin’ quarters into the jukebox. Damn,” Belle said.
“Hey, Tina!” Debra hollered. “Nobody wanna hear that rap mess, all right?”
“I sure as hell don’t need it,” sighed Mel. “All that noise gives me a headache.” He liked the song that was playing now, “The Midnight Hour,” by Wilson Pickett.
Tina answered the older women without turning around, “I hate this old fogey music.” She punched some numbers into the jukebox and stomped defiantly behind the bar. She said something to Ann, who laughed loudly.
“So, what you drinkin’, Mel?” asked Debra.
“Same as always. Rum and Coke.”
