“Still...” Ophion exaggerated the pause, “if he were to go missing and my tape surfaced, you, my friend might be expected to answer some difficult questions.”
Humphrey slapped Ophion’s folder on him to the table and then eyed the one he had given Ophion in turn. “Looks like you could be in line for the same.”
“As I said,” Ophion rubbed his hands together with smug satisfaction, “an impasse.”
Humphrey was equally smug. “I can live with being on equal footing.”
“Is this you finally accepting a partnership, Tesano?”
“I need a man like you on my team.”
“Your team...that sounds intriguing.”
Humphrey dropped a square envelope on the table and returned Ophion’s grin.
“We’re just abounding in paper today, aren’t we?” Ophion’s grin gradually faded as he retrieved the envelope’s contents and unfolded the sheet inside. “Curious,” he murmured, scouring the wide page he laid out on the table.
Meanwhile, Humphrey scanned the folders he and his acquaintance had brought to the meetings. “Equal footing could be very useful,” he said.
Ophion barely responded, he was still focused on the map-sized sheet covering the table.
“Our ambitions won’t have a chance of succeeding without more backing-significant backing.”
Ophion finally looked away from the map. “I’m listening.”
Humphrey rested against the table. “Those coming with this backing won’t be motivated by the same passions. We uh...we’ll need to find a way to maintain their loyalty-a way to tie them to our venture.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s simple. If they want in, they’ll have to meet our terms.”
“How?”
Humphrey shook his head and brushed his knuckles over the light stubble darkening his jaw. “Possibilities are endless.”
“These terms could pave the way to our equal footing.”
“Make them second guess ever betraying us.”
Amused confusion took hold of Ophion’s exotic features. “What’s brewing in that Italian brain of yours Tesano?” He scanned the map again. “What exactly is this? What do you have in mind here?”
Humphrey was studying the map intently. “Much,” he said.
~52~
Aaron reasoned that he wasn’t actually breaking his word to Rena not to try and figure out what was wrong with her. He told himself that the promise had been valid for that point in time. He had gone home and not looked back just as she’d asked. Promise kept, he was once freer to move on his suspicions.
Which were what, exactly?
Aaron contemplated the answer as he eased into a parking spot along the busy street across from the diner where Rena had asked him to leave her the week before. Of course, it was no one’s business; least of all his, why she didn’t want him to take her all the way home.
Rena Abreu struck him as a proud person, but she also struck him as a reasonable person. Her home may not have been the Taj Mahal, but he sincerely doubted that pride would’ve kept her from accepting a ride so he couldn’t see it. If anything, she would have directed him all the way to the front door, shoved him inside and dared him to make one sound of criticism.
Going back on his word to her now had nothing to do with stomping on her privacy. He had come to care a great deal about the small bundle of attitude. Caring meant he couldn’t overlook the fear he’d seen plain as day on her face when she begged him to go.
With his decision made, Aaron got comfortable on the midnight blue leather car seat and waited. He and Rena finished up early that day. Rena headed for her bus stop with Aaron leaving on her heels. His plan was to hightail it to Harlem and be waiting when she arrived to walk the block to her home.
He waited a while and, if he hadn’t believed Rena’s transportation grievances before, he did then. It was a scandal to have people sacrifice an outrageous amount of time getting home when they’d already sacrificed an outrageous amount of time working.
At any rate, waiting so long for Rena’s arrival gave Aaron time to reconsider his position on the street. Not to mention the fact that he was starving.
With a final check to ensure Rena wasn’t coming up on him with plans for bodily harm, Aaron left his car and crossed the street to the diner. Morton’s had the look and feel of someone’s home kitchen. According to the message on its wide, bay window, the restaurant specialized in ‘Down Home Soul Cooking’.
The truth of that was evident when Aaron moved past the glass door that was attached to an overhanging bell which signaled his arrival. If he had expected to feel out of place in a Harlem diner, he couldn’t have been more wrong. People from all walks of life seemed to frequent the busy establishment that had the look of a cafeteria.
Patrons placed their orders at the end of a long L-shaped counter. They moved on down the line pointing to one delicious looking item after another until their deep plates and bowls had been heaped generously and it was on to the cashier for payment.
Aaron got in line and enjoyed the experience. He’d been served heaping portions of macaroni and cheese casserole, black eyed peas, fried pork chops, rice with gravy, cornbread and a bowl of piping hot apple cobbler. Turning from the fragrant smorgasbord, he moved through new arrivers and others seeking a spot to savor their delicious burdens.
Aaron zeroed in on a party of three who looked as though they were preparing to leave. Maintaining a nonchalant air, he coolly made his way toward the table and approached at the same time as a small, black woman. He and the small woman both froze in place, eyeing the other with wary curiosity.
Aaron gave a guilty smile and the woman laughed. He joined her.
“If we can laugh together, we can eat together, yes?” he reasoned.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her tone quiet and kind. “I won’t take long. I’m only having a light lunch.”
“There’s no need for apology,” Aaron said and inclined his head toward the table. “Shall we?”
