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auctioneer appeared behind the oak podium, and banged a gavel. The loud thumping pulled Rashad out of his fantasyland and back into the present. Shaking off the remnants of his daydream, he grabbed his paddle from the empty seat next to him and turned his attention to the front of the room.
It soon became obvious that Monk’s piano would not be the first item to be sold. Rashad sat through the bidding on various paintings, furniture pieces and antiques, wondering when they would finally get around to it. Mrs. Parker placed and won a few bids, but he found he couldn’t muster any excitement for any of the other pieces. All the while, he stole glances at Lina, who seemed just as disinterested in the other items as he was.
“Now, we’d like to offer this embellished baby grand piano, played by the great musician Thelonious Monk early on in his career. The piano comes to us from the estate of a personal friend of Mr. Monk’s. We’re told Henry Minton gave it as a birthday gift to Mr. Monk. Henry owned Minton’s Playhouse in Harlem, where Monk developed his signature style as a member of the house band in the 1940s. The piano is gold embellished and was imported from Italy. It is in top condition, and is a rare find. We’ll open the bidding at ten thousand dollars.”
Rashad raised his paddle, and saw several others in the room go up, including those of Lina and Mrs. Parker.
“Do I hear ten thousand five hundred?”
More of the same.
“Eleven? Eleven thousand, five hundred? Twelve thousand...”
Rashad kept up with the lightning pace of the bidding, raising his paddle at every bid. As the dollar amount rose, the number of bidders began to drop off. By the time the auctioneer reached fifteen thousand, the only three paddles remained raised were Lina’s, Mrs. Parker’s and his own.
The three of them continued the bidding at a breakneck pace, passing seventeen thousand, then eighteen thousand, and then nineteen thousand dollars.
Before Rashad could raise his paddle to bid twenty-one thousand, however, Mrs. Parker grabbed the handle of her cane and got to her feet.
Her brown eyes flashing, the older woman called out a bid. “Twenty-five thousand.”
On the other side of the aisle, Lina countered. “Twenty-seven thousand, five hundred.”
Rashad stood. “Thirty thousand.”
A short, narrow man in a blue suit stepped up onto the stage, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He passed the paper to the auctioneer, who then said into the microphone, “Excuse me a moment.”
Rashad waited in silence with the others as the auctioneer read the note.
The auctioneer spoke again. “We have a call-in bid of forty thousand dollars on the table from an anonymous bidder.”
Mrs. Parker raised her paddle as if she meant to make another offer, but the auctioneer stopped her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ve gone well over the time allotted for this item, and we have many others to get to. We’ll verify the call-in bid, and if it can’t be secured, we’ll resume bidding on the piano tomorrow evening.”
Rashad dropped into his seat, groaning. Either he’d just lost the piano, or he’d have to do this all over again tomorrow night. Whatever the case, things had not gone as he’d wanted them to.
He looked across to Lina, and saw her gathering her purse. While he might not have gotten Monk’s piano, there was nothing stopping him from talking to her before she left.
He watched her walk down the center aisle and out the door in the back of the room, then followed her.
In the hallway, she turned her head and saw him, but didn’t stop walking.
He didn’t stop, either, and he followed her out the door of the auction house and into the muggy evening air.
The sun was hanging low, but had not yet set. She stopped by the driver’s side door of her car and turned to him. “Rashad, why are you following me?”
He smiled in response to the pointed question. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, baby.”
She rolled her eyes and opened the car door. Flinging her wrap off and tossing it into the passenger seat, she snapped back, “Don’t call me baby.”
“I’ll call you whatever you want me to. All I ask is that you hear me out, just for a moment.”
Her frown softened just a bit. She stepped away from him, moving so that the opened driver-side door of her car was between them. “What is it?”
He locked eyes with her. “I want another chance with you.”
Lina could feel her heart pounding in her chest like thunder. She blinked, sucked in a breath. But that only served to fill her nostrils with the woodsy, masculine scent of Rashad’s cologne. A shiver went through her body as she recalled the way that scent had smelled, clinging to her skin and to her bedding.
She raised her gaze and found him watching her in silence. Every bit of good sense she possessed abandoned her as she looked into his dark eyes. He was entirely too much man, and she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by him.
His soft lips parted. “Have a drink with me. I know a little place not far from here. You can follow me there, what do you say?”
Before she could think, the response fell out of her mouth. “Yes.” The moment she heard herself say it, she cringed, knowing it was too late to take it back.
He was already striding away, toward his pickup truck parked a few spaces away. “Great. I’ll drive slowly so you won’t lose me in downtown traffic.”
Resigning herself to go along with him as agreed, she climbed into her car, closed the door and buckled up. By the time she started the engine, he was already idling at the curb, ready to pull out into the road. She eased her car up behind his big truck and waited.
It took about ten minutes to arrive at the “little place” he’d spoken of, a bar called Shout Down Babylon. He parked in an empty spot right in front of the entrance, and she slipped into one a few spots over. By the time she’d unbuckled her belt, he opened her door and extended his hand to help her out of the car.
She took his offered hand and climbed out. Once her vehicle was secured, she followed him inside the small, one-story brick building.
The interior of the bar was smoky, as she’d expected. She could tell from the pungent scent that most of the people inside were smoking cigars or pipes instead of cigarettes. The wood paneled walls were covered with neon signs advertising beers and liquor, as well as a few battered license plates and sporting equipment. Among the artifacts were several photos of Bob Marley, Sean Paul, Mad Lion and various other performers of reggae, dancehall and soca music. One sign in particular caught her attention. She read the sign aloud. “Welcome to Bull Country. Warning: Bears Shot on Sight.” Shaking her head at the old athletic rivalry between two local universities, she raised herself onto one of the padded leather stools.
Rashad simply sat next to her, at his towering six foot two inches of height he didn’t need to stretch or stand on his toes to sit on a bar stool. As the bartender approached, he ordered a root beer.
When the bartender turned to her, Lina said, “I’ll have a ginger ale with lemon, please.” She knew better than to drink alcohol. It was hard enough for her to resist Rashad while sober. The last thing she needed right now was to make a stupid mistake with him, one she couldn’t take back.
With his bottle of root beer in hand, he asked casually, “How have you been?”
She offered a soft smile. “Pretty good. Actually, I just found out yesterday that I made senior partner at the firm.”
His easy grin broadened,