Dance Into Destiny Page 18

  They went to a Café Intermezzo afterward. Keeva sat down at the table they picked and inhaled deeply. “Umm, Sumatra, chocolate, hazelnut, amaretto—don’t you love coffee shops?”

  Shara shrugged and sat down across from her. “So did you enjoy the show?”

  Keeva’s countenance brightened. “Aren’t they amazing? I could watch them all night.”

  “It was beautiful. You could feel their passion and emotion. I got lost in it. I had never been to anything like that before.” Shara picked up the coffee menu. Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? How can they charge you that much for a cup of coffee? That’s ridiculous.”

  Keeva rolled her eyes and took the menu from Shara. She waived a waiter over and ordered a cappuccino for the both of them. “I gotta teach you to appreciate the finer things in life. Like Alvin Ailey tonight. I can’t believe you’ve never seen them. I can’t believe I’ve gone so long without seeing them.”

  Shara wrinkled her nose. “Maybe because I’m not used to seeing stuff like that, but I didn’t always understand what they were trying to say. It was beautiful, but what was the message?”

  “That is the message—the beauty of it. It doesn’t have to tell a story.” Keeva frowned. Shara had obviously missed the whole point. “That’s what’s wrong with black folks—we always want a story, some drama, a soap opera. We can’t appreciate art for the sake of art. We don’t go to a museum and look at a picture and appreciate it for its beauty. We got to know the story behind it and what it means.”

  Shara wagged her neck in classic ghetto fashion. “Well excuse me, Miss Hoighty-Toighty-High-Society, that I’m common black folk and didn’t get it. I’m just saying—”

  “You don’t have to get offended.”

  “I’m not offended, although that was offensive.” Shara lowered her voice. “I appreciate that it was beautiful. It must really be something to be able to evoke that type of emotion. It must feel awesome to be able to talk with your body, to be able to express that much passion through movement. I’m just saying, imagine if it was for Christ.”

  Keeva rolled her eyes. “Are you that spooky and deep? Does everything have to be spiritual? Can you ever step outside the box and do something other than church? You can’t even appreciate art. I don’t—”

  “Now who’s getting offended? Why are you so sensitive about it?”

  “Because I love dance. I love to watch it and I love to do it. Now you’re telling me I can’t enjoy it because it’s not spiritual?” Keeva gripped the table. “I don’t believe I have to give up something that beautiful because I want to have a relationship with God. I don’t believe salvation has to be devoid of beauty and art and life and—”

  “I’m not saying that! I know you think I’m Miss Holier-Than-Thou, and I also know you think that salvation means giving up everything that brings you joy, but you’re wrong on both counts. If you would hear me out—”

  Shara lowered her voice as the waiter brought over their coffee and a small container of sugar, honey, and Splenda. “Something to sweeten your coffee? Although, you probably don’t need anything sweet . . .” He smiled directly into Shara’s face. She blushed.

  Keeva let out a loud breath and stared down the overly attentive waiter. “No thank you, we’re fine.” Keeva gave him her nice-nastiest smile. “Now be gone,” she muttered under her breath as he walked away.

  He looked back at the table and flashed a suave smile at Shara. She looked away quickly.

  Keeva’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’re flirting with the waiter! Girl, he is fine, though. Did you see that behind? Oops! You probably don’t look at those things. You were probably looking at his spirit.”

  “What’s up with all the spiritual throw-offs? And I was not flirting with the waiter!” Shara lowered her voice. “He does have a perfectly round butt though, just like an apple. I’d love to take a bite—”

  Keeva coughed and spit the large sip of cappuccino she had just taken across the table. “Why Minister Shara, I’m shocked, I’m appalled. I’m—”

  “Disgusting!” Shara wiped up the mess with a napkin. She laughed. “Can’t take you nowhere, Miss High-Society. Didn’t they teach you in charm school or etiquette school or wherever you rich kids go, not to spit your food across the table?”

  They both looked at each other and cracked up.

  The waiter sauntered over with a towel. “Do you ladies need some help?”

  Keeva said dramatically, “Look at me, I’m so clumsy. I spilled coffee all over the table.

  Shara’s mouth dropped. “Spilled?”

  “Oh, Shara, I’ve gotten coffee all over your dress.” Keeva looked at the waiter’s nametag. “Malik, could you help her out? She’ll never forgive me if that stain doesn’t come out.”

  Malik ever so softly brushed the front of Shara’s dress with his towel.

  She stiffened and blushed profusely, grabbing the towel. “I’ll get it.” She kept one hand over her cleavage and used the other to rub the coffee stain.

  Malik laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Keeva was sorry about the scene she had created, especially since it was making Shara so uncomfortable. “Malik, perhaps you could get us some seltzer water. That’s usually good for getting stains out.”

  He stood looking at Shara.

  “Malik?” He shook his head and looked at Keeva as if she was speaking Greek. “Seltzer water?”

  “Oh—yeah, I’ll be right back with that.”

  Shara kicked Keeva under the table. “I can’t believe you told him to fondle me!”

  “He didn’t fondle you. He barely touched you!” Keeva laughed. “Anyway, I thought you wanted to bite his apple, Miss Thang. What happened?”

  “I was joking. I didn’t mean—”

  She shushed as Malik brought the seltzer water. Mercifully, he sat it down and walked away without lingering. Shara grabbed the bottle and poured some on the towel and wiped the stain on her dress.

  Keeva mopped the rest of the coffee off the table with some napkins. “I’m sorry. Sorry about Malik and sorry about what I said about your spirituality.” She took a deep breath. “I guess I’m intimidated by you sometimes. I’ve never met anyone so into God. I guess sometimes it makes me feel bad about me. I know I should be more spiritual and should pray more and read my Bible more. I do admire that about you. But I honestly think you could use more balance in your life. Not that I think you should go around biting the buns of flirtatious waiters.”

  Shara narrowed her eyes at Keeva, but then smiled. “I’m sorry too, for calling you Miss Hoighty-Toighty-High-Society. I guess I’m not used to all these fancy people and their expensive lifestyles, fancy food, and schnazzy clothes.” She paused. “I still can’t believe you told him to fondle me though.”

  “I didn’t tell him to fondle you!” Keeva glanced over at him. “He is extremely cute though. You should get his number.”

  “For what?”

  “He seems interested. You guys might want to hook up, go out.”

  “For what?”

  “What do you mean for what? Are you telling me you don’t date?”

  Shara shrugged. “I don’t see the point of dating. Why waste time with someone you’re not gonna marry?”

  “How do you know if he’s the one you’re supposed to marry if you don’t date him?”

  “I dunno. You just know. You can tell whether someone’s the one or not. You know your soul mate.”

  “Soul mate?”

  Shara put the cap back on the seltzer water. “I think the whole problem with relationships in this country is that people don’t really know what love is. They have this Hollywood image of it. Think about the movies. Two people meet, they have this physical attraction and ‘chemistry’—whatever that is. Before they even know each other good, they sleep together, get used to each other and then make a commitment based on what? Good looks and good sex? How much time do they really take to get to know each other though?
And people wonder why the divorce rate is over 50%.”

  Keeva emptied another packet of Splenda into her cappuccino.

  “What I want is a soul mate. Someone I can be totally real with—transparent and vulnerable. I should be able to share all my fears, dreams, feelings, who I really am and trust that it’s safe because he loves me for me and vice versa. We should be behind each other 100 percent, supporting each other so we can each realize our life dreams together. Maybe I’m being too idealistic, but if it’s anything less than that—I don’t want to be bothered.”

  Keeva nodded, refusing to let herself think about her relationship with Mark.

  Malik looked over at the table and winked at Shara. She blushed and looked away quickly.

  Keeva studied her reaction. “Shara, remember when you told me about being shy around guys and I asked you if it was difficult to get over?”

  “Yeah.” Shara looked at her hands.

  Keeva tried to ask as gently as possible. “Have you really gotten over it?”

  Shara sighed. “I don’t think so. To be honest, I guess I don’t really have any experience with being comfortable with men. If it’s under normal circumstances I’m fine, but if I feel like they’re interested in me, or if I’m interested in them, I get all goofy inside. I can’t relax and be myself.”

  “If a prerequisite for finding your soul mate is being yourself, then you’re in trouble.”

  “I guess when the time comes, I’ll find a way to get over it. I guess I would need to feel totally safe and comfortable, like that person would never hurt me.”

  Keeva stared at Shara. “Now that is being too idealistic. In relationships, people get hurt. It comes with the territory. Most of the time, it’s not on purpose, but it still happens.”

  “I don’t know, Keeva. I guess I’m afraid. Maybe I need God to send me someone real loving and sweet who can be patient with me and my issues.”

  “I’m sure God will do that for you.” Keeva took a sip of her cappuccino. “Maybe He already has.”

  “What are you talking about, Keeva?”

  Keeva smiled innocently. “Nothing, Shara.”

  Shara’s eyes got big. “What?”

  Keeva took one last slurp on her cappuccino. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  One Friday evening after track practice, Shara gathered her things to leave the church office as a group of youth leaders came in. Terrence, one of the boys’ basketball coaches, came up to her desk.

  “Hey, Shara. A group of us are going bowling tonight. Want to go?”

  Shara didn’t like the way Terrence was looking at her up and down, all shifty-eyed. She stepped back a little. “No thanks. I think I’m gonna get some rest this evening.”

  Quinton walked over as she was declining the offer. “Oh come on, live a little. Have some fun.”

  “No thanks, Quinton. I’ve had a long week. I need to recuperate and get some stuff done around the house.”

  “Shara, it’s Friday night. You can rest tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know how to bowl. I’ve only been once and I wasn’t very good at it.”

  Terrence gave her that look again, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry. I’m a pro and can teach you all you need to know.”

  Shara was about to decline once again, sure she didn’t want Terrence to teach her anything when Quinton said, “Come on, a whole group of us are going. All the youth leaders are going to be doing activities together some weekends so we can get to know each other better. As your boss, I’m ordering you to go.”

  “All right, Quinton. Whatever.”

  When they got out to the parking lot, Quinton looked over at her car. “Why don’t you ride with me? No sense in us taking two cars. I’ll bring you back here afterwards.”

  Before she could protest, Quinton was holding the door for her, helping her up into his truck. He got in and passed her a stack of CD’s. She thumbed through his collection. He had a lot of the same CD’s that Keeva had—Musiq Soulchild, Jill Scott, India.arie, Erykah Badu, Angie Stone and Lauryn Hill. He also had some jazz CD’s—Joe Sample, Chick Corea, George Duke, Miles Davis, and Rachelle Ferrell. Then he had many of the same gospel CD’s she had—Israel Houghton, Mary Mary, Yolanda Adams, Donnie McClurkin, Kim Burrell and several of Fred Hammond’s, who was Shara’s favorite. She noticed a CD by Joann Rosario. She remembered this was a new artist released on Fred Hammond’s new label a while back. She had been meaning to check it out. She handed it to Quinton.

  “Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites. It has this Latin, urban flavor to it. I played it to death when I first got it. You’ll like it.”

  Shara had a habit when she first got a new CD; she’d listen to a little bit of each song to see if she liked it. It took a few minutes to figure out the buttons on Quinton’s CD player.

  He finally pointed out the “skip to the next track” button. “You do that, too? I used to drive my roommates in college crazy doing that. That and playing a song over and over.”

  Shara smiled. “You do that, too? Mother Hobbs used to swear I was trying to drive her out of her mind doing that.”

  It was rare she liked most of the songs on a CD, but Shara was enjoying this one so far. She started at the beginning and let the CD play. She leaned back and relaxed a little. She liked being up high, sort of towering over the other cars. “This is nice.”

  “What the truck or the music?”

  “Both.” She turned the music up a little.

  Quinton bobbed his head. “This is a great hook.” He sang a little bit of the song. “Are those some of the best lyrics you’ve ever heard or what? Needing His Spirit like we need to breathe? I’m feeling that.” Quinton sang a little more.

  He had a nice voice. Shara liked the lyrics too. They expressed exactly how she felt about God. “This is a great CD. I’ve got to get it.”

  “You want to take mine? With CD’s I really like, I have this extravagant habit of buying one copy for the truck and one for the house.”

  Shara looked at him like he was crazy.

  He held up his hand to ward off her disdain. “I know. I’m changing a lot of my lifestyle habits left over from being a rich superstar athlete. Honestly though, I’m a very practical person. There are only a few things I splurge on. For the most part, I’m quite a scrooge.”

  “I’ve been called a scrooge many a time.”

  They said simultaneously, “I think it’s from growing up poor.”

  They looked at each other and laughed.

  Quinton gave her a sideways glance. “What you know about growing up poor? You had a mom and a dad and your father was a pastor wasn’t he?”

  “A district elder actually. You know that old school religion, though. The poorer you are, the more spiritual you are. My dad swears all these prosperity preachers out here are going straight to hell and taking all their members with them. You know, money is the root of all evil.”

  “Actually, the Word says the love of money is the root of all evil, not money itself.”

  “Yeah, I know that. My dad reads a different Bible, I guess. It took me a while to get over that poverty mentality. I do think some of these name-it-and-claim-it preachers take it too far. They make money and getting stuff the focus of everything. It seems like that becomes their gospel. The focus needs to be right. God gives us wealth to—”

  “Build his Kingdom?”

  “Yeah. Not for our own personal gain. Some people have made God their cosmic Santa Claus who exists solely for the purpose of blessing them. They seek His hand—”

  “Instead of His face. I know. It gets sickening sometime.”

  “Do you always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Finish people’s sentences.”

  Quinton thought for a moment. “Well, actually no. In fact, never. Maybe we think alike or something. Seems like when you talk, or stuff you write is stuff that’s been in my head too.”

  “Whatever, Quinton.” S
he turned the music up a little more. “This is really a slammin’ CD. I think I am gonna borrow it. I need to jam to this while I’m cleaning my apartment. Speaking of, how’s your place coming? Are they almost done?”

  “Not even close. It’ll probably be another few weeks.”

  “Was it that bad off to begin with?”

  Quinton looked sheepish. “I have to admit, that’s another area where I’m extravagant. I really like having a nice place to live. I promise that’s it though. I only splurge with my automobile, my music and my home, and okay, maybe my clothes. But that’s it. Well, maybe with books too, but that’s really all. Maybe with furniture too, but that goes under my home, so that doesn’t count. And, maybe I have expensive taste too when it comes to restaurants. But really, that’s it.”

  Shara laughed. “You may need to go back to being a superstar athlete with your extravagant taste, even if it is just a ‘few’ things.”

  “Naw, I’m ‘scraight’. I wasn’t a finance major for nothing. I made some wise investments when I first got paid and I got a few things up my sleeve now. I ain’t like regular black folk who spend money they don’t have cause they ‘have to have something’ or to keep up with the Joneses. You can believe if I’m spending, I’ve got a full Excel spread sheet on my entire financial situation for the next twenty years already figured out.”

  They pulled up at the bowling alley. “Don’t you dare touch that door.”

  She obediently waited for Quinton to come around and open it. He extended his hand to help her down. “There you are, madam. Watch your step.”

  “Such a gentleman. I’m touched.”

  When they got into the bowling alley, the rest of the group had already paid and were getting their shoes. There were about ten of them altogether. They crowded into their booth. Terrence squeezed into a small space between Shara and Tina. Tina was petite and rather pretty. Shara hoped it was Tina that Terrence was trying to get close to. She realized she was wrong when he slipped an arm around her and said, “Watch me close. I’ll teach you all you need to know to become a pro bowler.”

  She removed his arm from her shoulder and edged away from him, but bumped into Anthony who was on her other side.