While a grueling round of teasing got underway, Humphrey caught Vale’s eye and tipped his head to draw him over.
“That didn’t go exactly the way we planned,” Vale said when he and his brother met off to the side of the crowd.
“This way might actually be better,” Humphrey clapped a hand to Vale’s shoulder. “Enjoy your night.”
Vale grinned. “You too and remember what Grek said. Notorious details.”
Humphrey’s amusement scaled back somewhat as a sober element shifted into his mood. “Here’s hopin’, kid,” he said. “Here’s hopin’.”
~15~
“Need us to have the staff rustle you up a wheelchair?” Pitch used a wide palm to land a hearty clap to the middle of Roman’s chest. He chuckled when his little brother groaned.
“I hope you didn’t drink so much that last night is a complete blur?” Pitch refused to let up.
Roman leaned over the edge of the car seat. Elbows to knees, he rubbed his eyes in utter weariness. “I don’t think last night will ever be a blur.”
“Damn straight,” a touch of weariness colored Pitch’s voice then too. He nudged Roman’s shoulder. “It was quite an extraordinary time, huh?”
“Mmm,” Roman grunted his agreement, wincing when his voice came out as more or less a garble of sound. “It’s like my head and my...the rest of me were in two different places.”
A more serious element moved into place for Pitch then too.. “I hear you, man. So was mine,” he gave one last clap to Roman’s shoulder and left the back of the limo.
Two of the cars had been waiting outside Lucinda’s to carry them all back to the hotel bright and early that morning. The day was set to be a full one despite the previous night’s exploits.
Humphrey liked to say that the test of a great businessman was what he could accomplish with next to nothing in the tank. Roman supposed he was about to get a real education on that score. Though he’d spent much of the prior evening on his back, he had absolutely nothing left in his fuel tank.
He pushed his way from the car at last. His brothers were already heading toward the hotel entrance on the far side of the immense stone canopy. Another hearty palm slapped his back that time and stirred another painful groan.
“Did well last night, kid,” Mica raved, an approving grin spreading over his broad face. “Lucinda said her girls were very pleased to serve you.”
“They did all the work,” Roman sighed.
Mica chuckled. “And they were happy to.”
“Because they were paid to, Unc.”
Mica began to laugh. “Lu’s got a policy, kid. If her girls like a first timer, they invite him back for another night...on the house,” he nudged an elbow into Roman’s forearm and winked. “That’s another night with each girl you enjoyed last night.”
Roman’s stunned look sent Mica into a rolling fit of laughter. The sound carried until he disappeared into The Palmer.
Roman put his head down on the limo’s roof and tried to get his mind to settle. The deafening and unmistakable growl of a motorcycle engine, prevented that. The sound caught his ears and enraged his brain. Motivated to get inside the hotel and find the nearest bed, he forced himself to push away from the car. When he turned, the vicious pain in his head and every other damn thing in his head...vanished.
~~~
Imani Njeri Kamande never felt as free as she did when she was on the back of a motorcycle. It was a newly discovered revelation, however. Her laughter and unladylike shouts of delight, soared and were swallowed by the machine’s powerful engine. It reminded her of the infectious pulsing of kettle drums, reed pipes and xylophones joined in musical artistry.
There were no critical looks or reminders to be demure and quiet. Her voice was drowned yet still seemed to take flight. She supposed only one thing could surpass the elation of dancing to musical beats under her native Mozambique skies or even riding the back of a motorcycle. Riding the front of one. She imagined the freedom stemming from that kind of control would be unsurpassed.
Her brother Raj pulled into the hotel’s covered drive and cut the engine. Imani delighted in the sound of her laughter echoing beneath the high stone ceiling.
“Careful Jer,” Faraji Kamande urged his baby sister when she leapt from the high rear seat and unsnapped the strap beneath her chin. She tugged off a helmet and sent a ripple of beaded braids cascading down her back.
“When are we going back out?” Her question was breathy and happy.
Faraji grinned. “Well Jer we-”
“I want to drive it.”
Faraji’s grin vanished. “Out of the question.”
“Why? And you can’t say because I’m a girl.”
“Aren’t you?” Faraji’s handsome dark face reflected amused horror. “There something I should know?”
Giggling, Imani managed a strong enough shove to her brother’s shoulder. “Come on Raj...” she had no qualms about begging.
“No. You’re too young, Jer.”
“That’s your reasoning?! You know I’ll be eighteen my next birthday which is very soon.”
Faraji was unsympathetic. “If you want me to see my next birthday, you’ll drop this request.”
“It’s not fair,” she refused to let him see her pout.
Faraji propped Imani’s chin on his fist. “What isn’t fair is two people we love, beating me into an early grave.”
“No early grave for you,” Imani linked her arms around Faraji’s neck while he remained seated on the big bike. “You’re Mamae’s youngest boy. Her baby. She’d never do a thing like that.”
