Playing All the Odds

by Rena A. Finney

Genres: General Fiction; African American; African American Urban

Synopsis

Fantasy Delight Whitman (her birth name bestowed on her by her madam mama), has been through a lot getting where she is in life. Now the successful journalist and single mother to college-aged Kameron is about to get more than she bargained for when she looks up a long-lost love on the Internet. Victor Charles has been through the romance mill with two divorces behind him, but when his ex from twenty-plus years ago emails out of the blue, and Fantasy is as beautiful and sexy as ever, his faith in fate is renewed. There's no denying the sparks that still fly between them, except when the truth comes out about the secret Fantasy's been keeping. Can they hold it together, or are some things best left in the past?

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Urban Renaissance

Print pages: 288

Sample

Who would have imagined that after all these years she’d stumble upon him? As Fantasy stared at the image of the slender guy dressed in military fatigues, her stomach flipped and filled with something that was near foreign to her: butterflies. Here she was a grown woman who was supposedly well beyond the age of being blown away by a simple glance of the opposite sex. Yet, she sat glued to her seat in the stillness of the room, totally in awe of who she saw and, more importantly, what seeing him made her feel.

Fantasy was no giggling schoolgirl gawking at the cute boy in homeroom, so how could this sudden surge of emotion make sense? No, the woman she was now had progressed beyond the fluttering-butterfly-feeling stage. These days, her appreciative stare at an attractive man had matured to a settled glance, followed by a slight tilt of the head to access a proper full-body inspection. If that yielded a double take, Fantasy usually added a subtle, seductive smile, but not enough to make it blatantly obvious that she was at all moved by what her eyes were taking in. This little tactic wasn’t a game, it was merely a learned trait, and despite discarding many of the things her mother dearest had taught her, this particular gesture had remained. If she had half a dollar for every time Valerie Whitman versed one of her self-proclaimed “living life” adages, she’d be able to live next door to Hugh Hefner and the Bunnies. The one that rang louder than some others was something about games being played with terms that could be altered at will, and always, always adjusted to suit the high-stakes player.

Fantasy didn’t start off as a high roller, but neither did it take her forever to change her status from the played to the player. As they say, she had “been there and done that,” had the hat, the T-shirt, refrigerator magnet, and several mugs marking her emotional visitation to the wonderful land of love. There were just some things that she cared not to repeat; butterflies, being wooed, and the head-over-heels thing were three of them. She was, for the record, an honors graduate of the school of hard knocks, and here in front of her was a visual reminder in the adequate amount of pixels to make him much more than an illusion, or a figment of her yesteryear imagination.

The visual image was of the man credited with one of Fantasy’s earliest lessons in love. There was a saying she’d heard countless times: “you never forget your first.” She could definitely attest to that. Victor Charles had been her first, and this guy, the one on the screen, was definitely deserving of the rank of first. He had been the first one to take her for a romantic moonlight stroll, the first to listen to her dream out loud, the first to touch her soul with his words, and the first to knock it (her sweet spot) out of the ballpark.

Fantasy had always felt inadequate, like her presence did little more than fade into the backdrop. She considered herself a wildflower in a circle of attractive, sexy, and body-perfect college girls. And yet, the very first time they were in the quiet company of each other without another soul to hear his revelation, Victor told her that she stood out among her sisterhood posse. She thought she was barely average looking then, but, after that night and so many others, he reminded her that she was absolutely gorgeous.

The blessing had been that much had changed in her opinion since those days. Her body and confident persona were among those changes. Now, everything she was physically endowed with was in all the right places and in ample proportions. To add to her physique, Fantasy’s cheeks held deep-set dimples, and her dreamy eyes seemed to tell a story that unfolded into an inviting pool of intrigue. With a complexion the color of warm caramel with a hint of chocolate, her skin was as soft as it was flawless. Her hair rarely had a strand out of place, whether she was on one of her “I need a change” sabbaticals and sporting a short cut, or wearing her usual above-the-shoulder hairstyle that effortlessly cascaded around her head. Either style made her fitting of any beauty or hair magazine centerfold.

She saw it all as simply her with nothing extra, even today, but he had seen so much more, especially when he claimed the most intimate and sacred part of her being. This guy was an expert at what he did; each time he touched her he was able to navigate to the exact spot. She remembered thinking after the first few times that her spot must have been marked with an X, because something deep inside pulled him there with little effort.

She couldn’t help but smile as she thought about how he took his time with her. Each time, it felt as if he were creating a masterpiece, lovingly molding and blending something special between them. His level of precision was far beyond anything Fantasy’s youthful mind could even begin to comprehend. What she did know was that everything he did felt better than good and beyond great. He stirred a hunger in her that could never be adequately satisfied. The truth was, Fantasy never wanted it to be, not by anyone else.

During those blissful months, he held an all-access pass with platinum privileges. In Fantasy’s mind, all the time they spent together and the extra perk of giving so freely of all she possessed equated to him being with her for a lifetime. The lifetime commitment didn’t happen, but what happened, thanks to him, was a broken heart. Yet, heartbreak aside, and if she sidestepped the pain, no one ever compared to Victor. He was more than attractive; from her first glance at him Fantasy thought he was drop-dead good looking. He had a smooth chocolate complexion with piercing dark brown eyes that could take your breath away. His full lips were absolutely kissable, and she would lose herself just by staring at him. Fantasy pushed her narrow tortoise frame Versace glasses up on the bridge of her nose and leaned forward, frowning just a little.

Fantasy was so close to the flat screen that she bumped her forehead. “Dag.” Before she had a chance to register what she was feeling, a chirp alerted her that the front door opened, and her name was being yelled out.

“Fantasy, what’s good? I thought we were going to lunch.”

She rubbed her forehead while minimizing the screen, and pushed her chair back. Fantasy leaned to the side a little and waited patiently for her loud intruder to locate her. She was a little irritated at the interruption of her discovery, as her semi-cracked office door swung open wide, but quickly dismissed it.

“Nick, I’m sorry,” Fantasy said. “I just remembered I was supposed to meet you at Jasper’s for lunch, but as you can see I lost track of time.” She looked up apologetically and touched the pile of papers next to her.

“Why didn’t you call me?” She stood up and began putting some papers back in the folder, noticing that her hands were shaking. The image of Victor had unnerved her, and she took a deep breath.

“I did call a few times.” Nick walked over to the desk, picked up her iPhone, and hit her passcode. The two shared everything, even private matters. “Sweets, it’s muted.”

Fantasy chuckled and reached for her phone. “Sorry, love. I forgot to turn the mute off. I only intended to work for an hour on next week’s feature story, and, as I said, I completely lost track of time.” She returned her phone to the desk and dropped down in her chair.

“So, I’m not important?” Nick tried to sound hurt.

“You, my dear, are very important to me. Don’t even try to make me feel bad. You act as if this happens—”

“All the time. Yes, it does, and if I weren’t your best friend I wouldn’t put up with it. Not to mention I need to stay gainfully part-time employed by you.”

Nick and Fantasy had been friends since graduate school. In fact, when she settled in Charlotte five years ago, he was between jobs and tagged along. It wasn’t long before he’d landed a great job as director of production at a local news station, leased a condo, and settled into a nice, comfortable life. The area was growing, the industry was booming, and there were plenty of women to peruse in different shapes, sizes, and flavors. What was not to like about Charlotte? Whenever he and Fantasy were out and about, people often thought they were a couple, but friendship meant more to them than starting something that could end badly and cost them what they treasured the most. Nick was an attractive guy: tall, well built, copper tan, and as sexy as they come. He was the ultimate catch, and Fantasy knew that when he truly got tired of the bachelor’s life, he would make that someone special a wonderful husband.

“And you love me, so I already know you ain’t even mad at me.” She smiled and tapped him playfully with the folder she was holding. “Why don’t you go downstairs and fix us something to eat.”

“Is that all I’m good for?” Nick picked up another folder, identical to the one she held, and began to look through it, acting as if he was ignoring the suggestion.

“I don’t know. What I do know is I’m hungry and you know your way around the kitchen better than I. So, hit it, boy, and pull something together. Go work your gourmet magic.” She raised her hand and snapped her fingers before turning back around to the computer. Fantasy smiled knowingly. He’d argue for all of two seconds about her taking advantage of him and his culinary skills, and in an hour or less she’d be feasting on a delicious meal in the company of her best friend. She started typing in a Web address and waited patiently for his playful retaliation.

“Because I love you, I’ll pull something together. But don’t think you are getting off that easy. It’s jazz night at AJ’s and you will be joining me.” Nick stood against the doorframe and narrowed his eyes at her the way he always did right before he was getting ready to hit her with a dose of wisdom, which she always called, “the world and its affairs according to Nicholas Jamar Albright.”

“Fantasy, you know I admire all that you have done and how you stay on the grind twenty-four/seven. I wish I were that driven, but there is life outside these walls and it doesn’t include you jet-setting all over the place and writing beyond exhaustion, either. Forget that. How am I going to find the right man for you if you have no outlets whatsoever?”

“You ever hear of fate? That’s exactly what will kick in when it’s time.” Fantasy spoke the words, but she wasn’t completely sure that was what she was waiting for. She’d never done anything in her adult life on a whim, or with someone else controlling how a given situation would turn out. Never. It just wasn’t her, but the reply sounded good, and, since it did, she would see if Nick bought it.

“You don’t do fate. I know good and darn well you didn’t think I was buying that. You’d think I’d get some credit for being your left and right hand. Seriously, Fantasy, I know lately any talk of the future makes you feel a bit out of control. Your career is going great, but your personal life, well, it’s not as great.” Nick paused, wanting to choose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was bring to light the truth without the compassion he felt the situation warranted. “I know you, and I know you’re ready for the next move in love.”

“And you know all this how?” asked Fantasy. She wanted to take the high, playful road and not show the hurt the reality of the comment had on her.

“I know it’s that way because it’s that way for me too. Everything in life has an expiration date, all affairs a duration of time. We’re such close friends and we share so much, and I believe we are both coming up on that time together.”

“Tell you what, you go forth and I’ll follow your lead.” She tried to laugh it off, but Nick was right.

“Just so you won’t have to sit here and keep coming up with colorful lies, I’m leaving the room.” Nick chuckled, aware of what she wasn’t up to talking about. “I’m going to see what’s in the refrigerator and your overstocked pantry. Besides, there’s a cutie I met a few days ago and she’s meeting me at AJ’s tonight. I need you to check her out.”

“So, you want to use me?” Fantasy spoke as he disappeared, and smiled at the familiar practice of helping him with his femme process of elimination.

He was always getting her to check out one of his prospects. A few accepted that Nick’s best friend was a beautiful woman, and others thought that they were friends with benefits. Either way, she’d give her two cents because he was like a brother and, while he joked and played, he was a great person and had a heart of gold. There was no way she’d let him be hooked by a no-account gold digger. She could spot “that kind” a mile away. After all, she grew up around that kind, and her recognition radar was still intact.

Fantasy already knew from the time he asked that she would go to AJ’s for friendship’s sake. She’d give his latest fling the once-over, peep what most men couldn’t see and what another woman could recognize without taking a second glance. That would be her sole purpose for leaving the comfort of her home and a planned evening of doing nothing more than ordering Chinese.

This outing wasn’t about her, so the most she expected was to enjoy a little jazz. It had been awhile since she had been out, so the soothing sounds of some mellow jazz would be a welcomed treat. She decided right then that she would savor the relaxation it would offer, and not think of work. No, there would be no research, interviews, or endless reports to sketch out and plan. For tonight she’d cast all of that to the side and rest. But, as much as she wanted to erase her recent revelation, unless her psyche did a serious 360, or she reverted to the time before her Facebook discovery, she would be thinking about Victor.

As soon as she heard loud clanging noises come from the kitchen, indicating that Nick was at work, Fantasy maximized the Facebook icon at the bottom of the screen.

“Victor.” She spoke to the silence of the spacious but overcrowded home office. It was cluttered with every known tool of her craft, and, yet, despite what others would think of the disarray, it was to her ideal. Everything she needed was not more than a few steps from the oversized swivel task chair. Although the shelves were crowded, and books, folders, and files covered every span of space, there was still enough room to do a happy spin in the chair whenever a major project was completed.

Fantasy refocused on Victor Charles’s page. It was week two since she’d joined the craze, and already she was logging into Facebook daily to see who had invited her to be a friend and who she recognized on someone else’s page. The reports of this Facebook stuff getting a person hooked definitely weren’t a joke or an exaggeration. She was putting in her share of time. Of course, it didn’t help that she had inherited the nosey gene from her grandmother Pearl and was always up for any interesting information passed on. Whoever was telling their business—or someone else’s, it didn’t matter—it was all news to her, and like a regular National Enquirer reader, Fantasy wanted to know.

Today’s Facebook discovery pinned her to the seat. The photo wasn’t a clear one and she attempted to zoom in, but close up or not it was him, Victor Charles. Looking at the caption under the photo, Fantasy corrected herself out loud with a tone of authority. “Command Chief Master Sergeant Victor Charles.” Never in a trillion years had she expected this.

There was no need for further confirmation and yet she scrolled down and checked out his hometown, the high school and college he’d attended, and his military career. The final T was crossed when she rolled over the familiar faces of a few of his fraternity brothers.

She tried to smile slightly, hoping it would overshadow the melancholy ache that loomed deep within. The feeling lingered, and before she knew it she’d covered her mouth with both of her trembling hands and was staring, transfixed. Fantasy knew what she wanted to do, but she wasn’t sure it made any sense, not after all this time. Before she could talk herself into it and cross over into a zone of uncertainty, she quickly logged out of the network.

“What are the chances?” she softly asked herself.

The watch on Fantasy’s arm displayed 10:47 P.M. It was an early evening, considering that it was a Saturday night. Those with the true intent of having a good time were in AJ’s situated to enjoy the jazz music and exchange dialogue with the flow of people coming in and out. Nick took a sip of his Coke on ice and looked at her as she glanced around pensively. Dee had slipped away to the restroom, leaving the two at the table alone. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to go home.” As much as it seemed that they and Dee had fallen into an easy exchange, and each appeared to be having a good time, he knew that Fantasy was working extra hard at it just for his benefit.

“I was thinking of calling it an evening.” She showed him her impression of a sad face, knowing that he would be a little disappointed. She was totally disengaged from the club buzz around her; it didn’t matter that several had asked her to dance, or that she’d had more than a few offers of drinks. A few overzealous men, who thought they were the epitome of God’s gift to women, had dropped their business cards in front of her. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, and please don’t even think about leaving here with me.” Fantasy felt out of place, like she was on the outside looking in. As much as the ambiance should have given her a happy feeling, there was emptiness. She hadn’t told Nick because she knew he would have opened the friendship umbrella and they would have both been out together.

Nick stared at his friend for a moment before speaking. “Well, I take your early exit to mean that I picked well and maybe Dee has potential.” He articulated each syllable of his last word for emphasis and laughed.

Fantasy laughed along with him. “You are so crazy.” She beamed at her best friend’s humor, yet she knew he wanted to know her exact thoughts concerning Dee. “You did pretty well.” Fantasy wanted to be direct with Nick, but all of what she wanted and needed to share with him would take longer than the few minutes that it would take Dee to return to the table.

“Pretty well?” His right eyebrow rose slightly. “I searched every avenue, boulevard, road,. . .