Pleasure in His Kiss Read online

  Happy memories filled his mind—kissing Karma for the first time, strolling through the botanical garden with her hand in hand, playing miniature golf and bowling—and a sad smile curled his lips. He’d never been shy about expressing his feelings to her, and now more than ever Morrison wanted Karma to know what was in his heart, didn’t hold back in his messages. He admired her strength, how she’d beaten the odds and become a success, but what wowed him most about Karma was her inner beauty. Smart and effervescent, she was perfect for him in every way, and Morrison couldn’t imagine his life without her.

  “Morrison, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  Spotting Feisal standing near the trunk, Morrison wondered where he’d come from, and nodded his head in greeting. Short, with low-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair and a thin mustache, Morrison guessed he was in his late fifties. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Not here. Let’s have a drink at a pub on Main Street.”

  “I’d prefer to go to the coffee shop around the corner,” he said, putting on his sunglasses. “We can walk. I’ve been cooped up inside all day and could use some fresh air.”

  Heading south on Pantigo Road with Feisal, thoughts of Karma filled his mind—and questions he desperately needed answers to—but since he wanted to look Feisal in the eye when they spoke, Morrison decided to wait until they arrived at the café to ask him about his tumultuous relationship with his only daughter. They made small talk about the weather, sports and the Yankees’ five-game losing streak.

  Soft-spoken, but charismatic, Feisal had more stories than the six o’clock news, and Morrison was drawn to his easygoing personality. Like his daughter, he seemed genuine and sincere, and spoke in glowing terms about his late wife and her close-knit family.

  Entering the café ten minutes after leaving the courthouse, Morrison noticed the simple, but tastefully decorated shop was empty and sat down at a round table. The café offered baked goods, sandwiches and hot beverages. The scent of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee sweetened the air. Morrison was still full from lunch, but he encouraged Feisal to order something, and handed him one of the white, laminated menus.

  “Five dollars for a cup of coffee? Eight bucks for a bowl of clam chowder? Twelve bucks for a double cheeseburger and sweet potato fries?” Feisal whistled, an awestruck expression on his wide face. “I’ll eat back at the motel. I’m hungry, but these prices are a little too steep for my blood. I’m a regular guy, not a Rockefeller.”

  Morrison took his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it and put a fifty dollar bill on the table. “Feisal, it’s on me. Get whatever you want.”

  “In that case, I’ll have all three, and a side of potato salad.”

  The waiter took his order, jotted it down on a notepad, then marched into the kitchen.

  “Thanks, son, I appreciate it. Money’s real tight for me right now, and if not for my uncle Clive lending me a few bucks and his old Buick I never would have made it out here.”

  “Mr. Leonard, where are you staying?”

  “Do me a favor, would ya? Call me Feisal. Sounds cooler, don’t you think?” Wearing a wry smile, he cracked his knuckles, then clasped his hands on the table. “I’m staying at the Hamlet Inn. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a hell of a lot better than Livingston Correctional Facility, and the owners are pleasant.”

  “I’m glad you came by the courthouse,” Morrison confessed. “I wanted us to talk before you returned to the city—”

  “What makes you think I’m leaving? I came here to reunite with my daughter, and I’m not going a damn place until we reconcile. Karma’s all I’ve got left, and I won’t lose her.”

  The waiter returned, emptied her tray onto the table and gave a polite nod.

  “Feisal, what happened? Why does Karma hate you?”

  His spoon fell from his hand, struck his soup bowl and dropped to the floor.

  “You don’t know?” he asked, his eyes the size of golf balls. “She never told you?”

  “No, we haven’t been dating long, and before Thursday I didn’t even know you existed.” Morrison felt his cell phone buzz from inside the pocket of his charcoal-gray suit pants, but decided to let the call go to voice mail. He’d didn’t want to miss a word Feisal said, and hoped he’d help him make sense of the emotional conversation he’d had with Karma days earlier. To put Feisal at ease, Morrison told him about the first time he met Karma, her birthday weekend, their fishing excursions and her incredible relationship with his niece. “Did I say something wrong?” Morrison asked, noticing the frown on Feisal’s face.

  “My daughter must be sweet on you...”

  God, I hope so. I love her with all my heart and I want her to be my wife.

  “Because she hates fishing. Always has. Says it’s a boring waste of time—”

  “Why does Karma blame you for her mother’s death?” Morrison blurted out, anxious to hear the truth.

  With zero hesitation, he said, “Because I was a poor excuse for a husband and an absentee father during Karma’s teens. I loved my wife and daughter, but my inability to provide for them after an accident at work left me with chronic back pain, made me feel ashamed and inadequate, and over time I pulled away from them.”

  Morrison straightened in his chair, listened with rapt attention as Feisal discussed his addiction to prescription drugs and his decades-old gambling habit. Owing thousands of dollars to a Brooklyn crime boss, with no means to pay, he’d stopped hanging out with his friends at the local bars and kept a low profile. He’d had a chip on his shoulder, and more enemies than friends, but he’d never dreamed the bad choices he’d made would cost him his family.

  “One night, as my wife and I were leaving to have dinner at her favorite Creole restaurant, two masked men shot at my Subaru,” Feisal explained, tears filling his deep brown eyes. “I was shot twice in the leg, a-a-and... Carmelita was pronounced dead at the scene.”

  Pushing away his plate, he dropped his face in his hands, and blew out a deep breath.

  “The cops found an unregistered gun in the glove compartment of my car and arrested me on the spot. I was charged and sentenced to five years in jail for the offense. You’re a judge, so I know you think I’m a loser, but I’m not.”

  “No, I don’t. Everyone makes mistake and deserves a second chance.”

  Feisal wiped at his tear-stained cheeks. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I lost my kid sister ten years ago, but I still regret the horrible things I said to her when we argued during a family dinner.” Morrison picked up his glass and guzzled down the ice-cold water, hoped it cooled his sweltering body temperature. “I didn’t know that was the last time I’d see Emmanuelle alive. If I did, I would have hugged her, instead of insulting her.”

  Feisal wore a sympathetic expression on his face and nodded in understanding.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and screwed up more times than I can count, but I loved my wife and daughter more than anything. I always will.”

  His heart was full of compassion, and even though Morrison had just met Feisal, his gut was telling him that Karma’s dad was being sincere, speaking the truth. “I’m going to help you.”

  “With what?”

  For the first time since they’d arrived at the café, Morrison smiled. “Reuniting with your daughter, of course. Don’t worry, Feisal. I’ve got this. Leave everything to me.”

  “Th-th-thanks, man. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” he stammered in a raspy voice. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, splashing onto his plaid, short-sleeve shirt. “I’ll be right back. I need to use the men’s room.”

  Staring out the window, Morrison’s gaze fell across the woman with the dyed purple hair in front of the coffee shop, and his thoughts turned to Karma. He couldn’t accept that she didn’t want to date him. Morrison hadn’t told anyone about their b
reakup, and didn’t plan to. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t letting Karma go. Not without a fight.

  Morrison’s cell rang, and he took it out of his pocket. He had six missed calls, and they were all from Roderick. Morrison wondered if his brother was having second thoughts about their meeting with the SEC tomorrow morning, and wanted him to know he had his back. Pressing the answer button, he put his cell to his ear, anxious to touch base with his kid brother about his business trip. “Roderick, what’s up?” he said, trying to sound upbeat, even though he was miserable inside. Life wasn’t the same without Karma, wasn’t as exciting or fun, and every day without her was unbearable. But for this brother’s sake, he pretended life was good. “How was London? Were you able to successfully renegotiate the deal with European Records for your client, or is their legal team still reviewing the third draft of the contracts?”

  “She cleaned me out! Took everything in the house that wasn’t nailed down,” Roderick shouted. “Can you believe this shit? She played me for a fool, and I never saw it coming.”

  Wincing, Morrison moved his cell away from his ear. “Roderick, slow down. You’re not making any sense. What’s going on?”

  “Aren’t you listening?” he snapped. “Toya’s gone, and she took everything I own.”

  Morrison nodded, though his brother couldn’t see him, and rose to his feet. Nothing mattered more to him than being there for Roderick, so he gestured to the waiter for the check and hoped Feisal returned soon from the men’s room.

  Taking his car keys out of his pocket, he made a mental note to text Duane once he got off the phone. He’d know what to do. Morrison wasn’t himself right now, was still troubled about his breakup with, Karma, and needed Duane’s quiet wisdom to help calm Roderick down. “Bro, hang tight. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Don’t bother. My place looks pitiful, and I don’t want you to see it like this...”

  Roderick’s voice broke, and he trailed off speaking. Damn. Is he crying?

  “Bro, I don’t care about your house. I care about you.”

  “I need my space. No offense, Mo, but I want to be alone right now.”

  Morrison scoffed, shook his head in disbelief as he listened to his brother explain why he couldn’t come to his Southampton estate. His mind made up, Morrison pretended he didn’t hear what Roderick said, and spoke in a stern tone. “Don’t move, Roderick. I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  Morrison entered Roderick’s sprawling, twelve-bedroom estate, noticed there was no furniture anywhere on the main floor and swallowed hard. The air smelled of herbs and tobacco, and footsteps pounded on the marble floors, echoing throughout the estate. He found his brothers in the living room. Duane was leaning against the bare, powder blue walls, typing on his cell phone, and Roderick paced the length of the room, puffing on a cigar.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Duane said in a quiet voice, pocketing his cell phone. “Roderick is trippin’ big-time, and I don’t blame him. Toya did him dirty.”

  “Really? I thought maybe he was exaggerating. You know how he gets sometimes.”

  “It’s bad. She took the furniture, the silverware, the bedding and even the toilet paper.”

  Roderick glanced in their direction, and Morrison’s heart filled with sympathy.

  “I’d offer you a seat, bro, but as you can see I don’t have any.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Roderick.” Morrison didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort his brother, and said the first thing that came to mind. “How are you holding up?”

  “I told you, Toya screwed me over. Isn’t this some messed-up reality-TV-type shit?”

  Morrison gulped. Remembering his last conversation with Toya, heat burned his cheeks, and his shoulders slumped. “Toya tricked me. She said she was planning a surprise for your anniversary, and asked me for a favor. That’s why I postponed our meeting with the SEC. So that you guys could celebrate in style.”

  “She lied to you. Our one-year anniversary was last month, and we celebrated with a romantic dinner at her favorite Greek restaurant and a helicopter ride.” Hanging his head, Roderick raked a hand through his hair. “Damn, Toya really played you. She asked you to postpone the meeting, so she could move out while I was in London.”

  Riddled with guilt, Morrison wished the ground would open and swallow him up. “Bro, I’m sorry. I had no idea what she was up to. If I’d known, I would have warned you.”

  “Apparently, no one knew. I’ve called all of her friends, and no one’s seen her.” Roderick cracked his knuckles. “Toya must have hired a removal team, because there’s no way she carried out the furniture and artwork with her girlfriends.”

  “Damn, bro, I’m sorry. I can only imagine how you feel.”

  “Like a jackass who got screwed. I knew Toya was upset about me going to rehab, and my meeting with the SEC but I never dreamed she’d do something like this. Our wedding is in three months. What will people think?”

  The brothers fell silent.

  “It’s not all bad,” Duane said, glancing around at the barren space. “Now you can decorate your place the way you want, and we’re going to help you.”

  Morrison agreed. “Yeah, we’ll get some fresh, new paint, some designer furniture and sports memorabilia, and make this mansion the bachelor pad of your dreams.”

  “You know what the worst part is? She emptied our joint bank accounts.” Roderick dragged a hand down the length of his face. “The money to repay the SEC is gone. All of it.”

  Morrison and Duane shared a look, and Roderick took a puff of his Cuban cigar.

  “I’m going to find her and get my stuff back. And every damn penny she stole,” he fumed, balling his hands into fists. “I need to know why Toya did this, why she betrayed me.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Morrison said with a sympathetic expression on his face. “She’s selfish, and self-absorbed, and only cares about herself. Forget her, bro. You don’t need her.”

  “I know you’re upset about what Toya did, but we’re meeting with the SEC tomorrow, and I need you to be focused. We can’t blow this.”

  “And, as for the money, don’t worry about it,” Morrison said. “We’ve got you.”

  Roderick stopped pacing. “You do?”

  “Of course we do. We’re your brothers.”

  “Really?” His eyes widened. “But I have to repay over a million dollars.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you owed ten million,” Duane said, ruffling his brother’s short hair. “We love you, and we’re going to help you. That’s what family does.”

  To make his brothers laugh, and lighten the mood, Morrison cracked a joke. “This is a one-time loan, bro. If you get in trouble with the SEC again you’re on your own. And, I’ll kick your ass up and down East Lake Drive!”

  Chuckling, Roderick wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Don’t sweat it. What are brothers for?” Morrison said, lobbing an arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders. “Love you, bro, and don’t you forget it!”

  “Mom’s going to have a field day setting you up, you know that, right?” Duane wiggled his eyebrows, made a silly face. “Viola’s the original millionaire matchmaker, and once she finds out you’re on the market, there’ll be no stopping her.”

  Roderick groaned, as if he had indigestion, and shook his head. “Naw, bro, I’m through with the opposite sex. Done. I’m flying solo from here on out.”

  Duane scoffed, and Morrison wore a skeptical expression on his face.

  “I’m serious, you guys.” Bitterness filled his voice and darkened his eyes. “Women like Erikah and Karma are rare, and I hope you two knuckleheads know how fortunate you are to have smart, successful females in your corner who love you unconditionally, and have your best interests in heart. Not everyone is so lu
cky.”

  In that moment, Morrison, realized what was at stake, what would happen if he didn’t show Karma how much he loved her. That she was the only one for him. That he couldn’t live without her. A plan formed in his mind, and a grin claimed his mouth. Morrison knew what he had to do. He was getting his girl back, and nothing was going to stand in his way. To pull it off, he’d need his friends and family in on his plan, every last one of them. Morrison was getting Karma back and nothing was going to stand in his way.

  Chapter 17

  “Ms. Karma, you came!” Reagan shot across the backyard of the tree-lined estate and threw her arms around Karma’s neck. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming, so I’m stoked to see you!”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. Erikah got her hair done at the salon this morning and threatened to key my car if I didn’t come to your graduation party, so here I am,” Karma joked with a laugh. “Just kidding. This is a momentous milestone for you, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

  Her face lit up. “Were you at the ceremony? Did you hear my valedictorian speech? Did you see me walk the stage in my snazzy cap and gown?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” Karma gave the teen a hug. “You looked poised on stage, sounded wise beyond your years, and I’m proud of you. I screamed and cheered so loud during your speech that my throat is hoarse now!”

  All across the backyard, Reagan’s friends and family ate, talked and danced. The DJ was playing popular music, the waitstaff ensured champagne flutes were full of sparkling apple cider, and the photographer captured every memorable moment on his high-powered digital camera.

  Cheers and boisterous laughter filled the air, drawing Karma’s gaze to the teenage boys playing cornhole toss with graduation-themed bags. The caterer had done an outstanding job incorporating all of Reagan’s favorite things, and the popcorn bar, candy station and advice tree—where friends and family could leave notes, good wishes and advice—was a hit among guests. Photo wreaths, filled with childhood pictures of Reagan, decorated the backyard, gold helium balloons were tied to evergreen trees, and the confetti cake was shaped to look like a graduation cap.