Hollington Homecoming, Volume Two. Pamela Yaye
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Kyra put a hand on the intern’s shoulder. “He might seem charming, but be very, very careful around guys like that.”
Nikki’s eyes glazed over and Kyra knew she’d lost her. Trim, chesty and blessed with naturally curly hair, the management student had more admirers than a Playboy Playmate of the Year. “The man is gorgeous,” Nikki cooed, coiling a glossy curl around her index finger. “You could cover him in green slime and he’d still be fine!”
Tell me something I don’t know.
Nikki turned to leave, then spun back around and extended her right hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your dad called. He wants you to call him at the church.”
Nodding absently, Kyra took the message slip and shoved it into her pocket. Returning her father’s call could wait. He was always imploring her to live the Christian way and Kyra wasn’t in the mood to hear one of his midday sermons. Not when she had Terrence Franklin hot on her trail.
When Nikki departed, she picked up her pen and got down to work. The business letters weren’t going to write themselves, and Kyra knew Walter would come looking for them at the end of the day. But when she wrote the word fine instead of find for the second time, she got up from her desk and went over to the window.
Students rushed to and from the dormitories, a group of international students kicked around a soccer ball, and couples kissed under the shade of lofty willow trees. Pride filled Kyra’s heart. Few people, including her parents, understood why she’d chosen to study at a historically black college. Scholarships had poured in from other prestigious universities, but she’d turned them all down. Here, among students of every shade of brown under the sun, she’d flourished. Her sorority sisters had cheered her accomplishments, challenged her way of thinking and offered a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most.
Raised in a middle-class suburban neighborhood, Kyra had secretly longed to have friends and teachers who looked like her. She’d grown up wanting to be Debbie Allen and when she arrived at Hollington that balmy afternoon in August just days after her eighteenth birthday, she’d felt like a character on A Different World. Kyra had loved the community so much she’d applied for the public relations position the second she’d seen it in the newspaper, bought a two-bedroom townhouse in East Point and settled comfortably into her new life.
A girl who couldn’t be much more than eighteen pushed a stroller down the street. Kyra rested her head against the glass. Everything she’d ever wanted in life had become a reality, and although she wasn’t a wife or mother yet, she knew in time it would happen. Once Terrence signed on to coach the Lions and the excitement of homecoming weekend was behind her, she’d think more about her future.
For the last three months, the reunion had consumed her and now she had to fill the head coaching position. Her quiet life had suddenly become very hectic and something told her, Terrence Franklin, the former bad boy of the NFL, was going to be more trouble than he was worth.
* * *
“Beverly, what do you mean you’re not going to the reunion?” Kyra asked, her hands propped on her slender hips. “This is a big weekend for the university and I’m counting on you to be there.”
“I don’t see why,” Beverly Turner quipped, straightening a rack of printed skirts. Her trendy, high-end boutique, Hoops, was on North Highland Avenue and a steady stream of twenty-somethings flowed into the store and left carrying enormous white shopping bags with the dainty Hoops logo. The sparkling chandelier, golden cherubs and tasteful furniture gave a chic, intimate feel to the place. “Aside from you and a couple of other people, I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from our graduating class.”
“Beverly, you were homecoming queen and everyone’s expecting you to be there.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m not going.”
“Give me one good reason why you can’t go.”
“I’ll give you three,” she chirped, her low Southern twang taking on a hard edge.
Kyra sighed inwardly. Beverly was a deeply thoughtful woman with a gentle disposition, but she was always poised with a comeback.
“For starters, I’m swamped here.” Selecting a dazzling sheath dress from off the rack, she slipped it off the gold padded hanger and held it up to one of the mannequins in the front window. “I’m putting together the final touches for my new spring line, and I have to design a gown for Gabrielle Union to wear to an awards gala next month.”
“You seem stressed, Bev. Why don’t you let me take you out for lunch?”
“So you can pressure me into going to the reunion?” Beverly shook her head. “No way. I don’t have time for this right now. I’m up to my neck in paperwork and it’s going to take me the rest of the afternoon to fill the online orders.”
“Beverly, you’ve been dodging my calls for weeks and the reunion is less than a month away. I need to help Chloe finalize the rest of the plans for homecoming.”
She said nothing, just continued dressing the mannequin and humming to the Smokey Robinson song playing in the background.
Kyra heaved a heavy sigh. This was not going as she’d planned. One of her girlfriend’s less laudable traits was definitely her stubbornness, but if she was going to convince Beverly to attend reunion weekend, she had to get to the heart of the matter. “So, that’s it? You’re not going and there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”
Beverly gave a brisk nod, then changed the subject by asking how her meeting with Terrence Franklin went. “I was picking up some fabric at my favorite store on Monday and it seemed the whole town was abuzz with the news of his big return.”
Kyra thought about the scene she witnessed yesterday at The Tavern. She’d stopped in for lunch, but when she spotted Terrence and Mr. Morrow eating beside the far window, she’d ordered her chicken salad to go. Shielded by a large, imposing floor plant, she’d watched Terrence in all of his celebrity glory. Fans scurried over to his table for autographs, pictures and hugs. For months, there had been speculation that he would come out of retirement before the trade deadline, and his silence heightened the media’s interests and fueled every sports blog in the country. Kyra didn’t like that Terrence was playing both sides of the fence, but until he signed on to coach the Lions, she didn’t have a say in the matter. “Yeah, his arrival has generated a lot of good press for the school. We’ve received hundreds of online applications, and we had so much traffic on the Web site yesterday, it crashed!”
“I bet,” Beverly agreed. “After all, he is the pride of Hollington.”
“I’m lining up as many interviews as I can. I even contacted my old sorority sister, Tamara Hodges, about doing an article on Terrence becoming the Lions coach.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got him to sign on already?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
Beverly started to speak, but her words were drowned out by a shrill, piercing laugh. Realizing they needed privacy, Kyra grabbed Beverly’s hand and dragged her into the back office. Where the boutique was bright and glitzy, the office was a simple, understated space teeming with fashion magazines, invoices and poster boards. “Now,” Kyra began, closing the door and standing in front of it, “spill it. What’s the real reason you won’t go to the reunion?”
Beverly stood her ground. “You’re not going to change my mind, so you might as well save your breath.”
“The class of ’99 voted you Homecoming Queen, Beverly. How’s it going to look if you don’t show up?”
“Like I’m a popular fashion designer who has orders to fill.” Straightening up, she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze drifting to the open window. “Kyra, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’ve moved on from beauty pageants and modeling contests. I want to be taken as a serious businesswoman and that’s not going to happen if I’m riding on top of a flowered float.”
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