Love After War Read online

  Glancing down at his watch, Adrian realized that he had to leave now if he was going to make it to the press conference in enough time to make his presence known.

  The weather was perfect for snapping pictures, and though Dana had completed her work with the studio, she decided to drive around the city to take some shots for her personal collection. People knew of Dana’s work in glossy magazines and fashion pictorials, but her real love was to capture real people. Sort of like the work of Gordon Parks and his images of migrant workers. She’d hoped to find a buyer for her photography book. Imani was on her bandwagon and working her contacts to help Dana get a deal. Unfortunately, everyone wanted the glamour and celebrity shots.

  The deals had been lucrative, but money wasn’t everything to Dana. She wanted to publish pictures of real people living real lives. Sadly, publishers weren’t feeling that idea. But as her mother, Whitney Singleton, always told her, there will be hundreds of nos before you get that one yes. Thinking of her mother, she smiled. Whitney had been her biggest cheerleader when Dana decided she wanted to be a photographer. She’d taken Dana to the Art Institute of New York City and told her that if this was her dream, she’d have to stick to it. When Dana had told her mother that this was what she was born to do, Whitney purchased her an old camera and twelve rolls of film and told her to trust her eye.

  Dana hated that her mother never got to see her dream come true, and she hated that she’d wasted her time with Adrian.

  Where did that come from? She pulled into the parking lot of a Starbucks, grabbed her camera from the passenger seat, and walked toward the entrance. Immediately her mind returned to the last time she’d stopped for coffee and ended up with a mouthful of Adrian.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “He threw you away when you’d been there for him and that’s how he repaid you.”

  “Damn it,” a voice behind her muttered.

  Dana turned and saw a comely woman dressed in an ivory pantsuit kicking off a shoe with a broken heel.

  “Are you okay?” Dana asked, wanting to snap a picture but refraining.

  The woman smiled at Dana and she shook her head. “Unless you have a pair of shoes on you, I’m pretty much out of luck.”

  Dana held up her camera and asked, “Do you mind?”

  The woman eyed her as if she’d asked her for a million dollars. “Why?”

  “Because the typical Hollywood woman would be whining and you have a broken expensive shoe in your hand and a slight smile on your face,” Dana said.

  “That’s because I’m a New York Southerner,” she said, then held up her shoe while Dana took a couple of shots.

  “A New York Southerner in California?” she asked when she put her camera down. “Interesting.”

  The woman frowned. “No, it really isn’t.”

  Dana held the door open as she and her subject entered the coffee shop. “So, are you from LA?” she asked Dana.

  “No, I’m a New Yorker working for Universal.”

  “I’m Kandace,” the woman said as she extended her hand to Dana.

  “Dana Singleton,” she replied. The women took a seat near the front window after they ordered a couple of lattes and slices of banana bread.

  “People in LA love Starbucks more than New Yorkers, for sure,” Kandace said. “I think I know you or at least your work. Didn’t you shoot a spread in Elle ?”

  “I did.” Dana smiled, excited that someone noticed her work.

  “Black girl in Paris. I’m keeping that magazine for my daughter. The layout was so tastefully done and I’m now a fan of Imani Thomas.”

  “She’s good people,” Dana said as she sipped her drink.

  “Not one of those Hollywood types? Since my husband and I have been here, I’ve met more phony people than the law should allow.” Kandace broke off a piece of her bread and popped it into her mouth.

  “And no one around here eats,” Dana laughed. Then she glanced down at her latte. She remembered the first time she and Adrian had met for Starbucks and how he’d told her that he knew she wasn’t from LA when she had ordered a pastry with her coffee. Why did that man keep creeping into her thoughts? That kiss. She knew better than to think she could’ve been unaffected by having his lips pressed against hers and tasting the tongue that had brought her so much pleasure.

  “Dana?” Kandace asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry, just a little preoccupied. That’s why I decided to get out and shoot some photos.”

  Kandace nodded. “I had to get away from my husband and his family. I’ve never met three men who are so pigheaded and have to be right all the time.”

  Dana snorted. “I can relate to that.” Shaking her head, she wondered why pigheaded men always captured seemingly smart women by the heart and never let go.

  “Honey,” Kandace said, exposing her Southern roots, “these people have more issues than Ebony, Jet, and Essence. But I love them anyway. I hope there isn’t another family out there like these guys.”

  Dana shrugged, thinking that Adrian could probably give them a run for their money. “Thanks for letting me shoot you,” Dana said, then reached into her bag and handed Kandace one of her business cards. “Send me an e-mail and I’ll send you a copy of the picture. One day a publisher will understand that women want to see something other than high fashion and glamour shots.”

  “If my broken shoe makes it into your book, I’d be so honored,” Kandace said. “And I’ll throw you a hell of a party in Charlotte and New York.”

  “Charlotte? Oh, right, New York Southerner.”

  “My friends and I own a restaurant down there, Hometown Delights.”

  “Wait, not the restaurant where Emerson Bradford tried to kill his ex?” Dana bit down on her bottom lip.

  “One in the same. Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to be famous or infamous. When people think of Hometown Delights, no one ever thinks of the world-class chef who created our menu.”

  Though Dana heard annoyance in Kandace’s voice, she could tell this was a conversation she’d had before. “But,” Kandace said, “we have had a run of bad luck.”

  Dana nodded and decided not to say anything about the murder Kandace had been a party to at that same restaurant. It had been big news in New York because of Solomon Crawford’s involvement and subsequent marriage to Kandace. She and Kandace locked eyes.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kandace said.

  “But I don’t know you well enough to ask, so let’s get more coffee.”

  Kandace laughed and drained the rest of her drink. “As much as I’d love to sit in here and pretend that whatever is going on at the Crawford Towers construction site has nothing to do with me, I’d better go and play the role of referee.” She held up her broken shoe. “And find another pair of shoes.”

  “There is a shoe store two blocks over. So at least one problem is solved.”

  Kandace nodded at her. “Well, let’s hope the rest of my problems today are solved this easily.” As Kandace headed for the door, Dana drained the rest of her cold latte.

  Morbid curiosity tugged at her otherwise logical mind. She’d moved on with her life, sort of . . . It wasn’t as if she were pining away for Adrian Bryant. Granted, her career kept her too busy to have a serious relationship, but she dated. Secretly, she hoped to find someone like Imani’s husband, Raymond. Kind, sweet, considerate, and understanding.

  If Dana was honest with herself, she’d admit that Adrian really was nothing like Dr. Raymond Thomas. Her best friend’s husband ran a free clinic in Harlem. Adrian was a club owner and promoter. He’d been the co-owner of several nightclubs, including Crimson. Dana hated that place, with all of the half-naked girls vying for A-list attention. Adrian had been on the receiving end of that attention, though he’d sworn to Dana that he’d never cheated. But she believed that their text message breakup had something to do with activities going on in the club. Dana wanted to believe that she was wrong about that, but she thought she was pr
oven right the night she’d shown up at his penthouse following his mother’s funeral.

  “Dana?” Imani asked. “Are you all right? I’ve been calling your name since I walked in here.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.”

  Imani raised her right eyebrow. “Are you getting stressed out by the studio? I know Willard Maines, the director of public relations, is getting on my last nerve!”

  Dana waved her hand and psst at Imani. “Willard and I have already had our come-to-Jesus meeting about these shots. He, of course, blames you actors and your unrelenting schedules for the reason why things have fallen behind. I was just thinking about something that happened in another Starbucks a few days ago.”

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” Imani said as she waved for the barista and ordered a skinny vanilla latte with soy milk and no whipped cream. Dana shook her head, ready to tell her friend that she’d taken the fun and taste out of the drink.

  “You’ve been busy and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s that guy, isn’t it?”

  “What guy?”

  “The fool who dumped you by text message.”

  Dana waited for the barista to finish making their drinks before she answered Imani. “It’s not that serious, all right?”

  Imani rolled her eyes and placed her hand on Dana’s shoulder. “Girl, if he’s on your mind, then it is that serious. I know you, D. You have the tendency to obsess and hop inside your camera to forget that there’s a big world out there you should be a part of.”

  “Been doing yoga and talking karma with some of your Hollywood friends? I need to talk to Imani from Brooklyn.”

  “No, you need to talk to Imani from Harlem. Because if you are considering talking to that ass again, I need to slap you.”

  “Did I say that? But how weird is it that we run into each other at Starbucks during a blackout?”

  “Maybe the blackout was a sign?” Imani shrugged. “Listen, if this guy was dumb enough to let you go, then let it be.”

  “Maybe I need closure, a period at the end of all this so that I—”

  “Closure? You know that’s just an excuse to hit the sack one more time.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m just saying, you are better than this and you shouldn’t—”

  “I get it,” Dana said, stopping what was surely going to be an infamous Imani rant. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, her friend was right. Adrian had gone dark on her, evident by his cruel breakup. But his kiss made her wonder if he’d finished fighting his demons and could be the man she loved again.

  “Dana?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I said I’m going back to New York for a few days. Why don’t you come back with me and get your mind off that dude?”

  “I’m not running away from Adrian, and I have a schedule that I have to keep.”

  “Speaking of schedules,” Imani said. “Edward said if I can get the studio to sign off on it, the producers of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof want me to do a week’s run as Maggie.”

  “That’s big! Congratulations.”

  “I know and I get to spend a week with my husband. God, I miss that man so much.”

  “I bet you do. He’s coming out here for the premiere of the movie, right?”

  “You know it,” Imani said with a gleam in her eye.

  Dana couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s happiness. Dana glanced at her watch. “Playtime is over. I have to head back to Culver City. Lawrence Miller is supposed to actually show up today.”

  Imani rolled her eyes. “He puts the D in diva.”

  Dana nodded. “Tell me about it. Maybe I should start taking notes and write a tell-all book.”

  “No way! Then I’d have to disassociate myself from you.”

  “The first ten chapters would be all about you,” Dana quipped.

  Imani narrowed her eyes at her and pretended to be appalled. “At least the pictures would look good.”

  The two women finished their coffees and headed outside. Dana tried to focus on her upcoming photo shoot with megastar Lawrence Miller, but as she headed for her car, Adrian was front and center in her mind.

  Adrian shook hands with Richmond Crawford. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bryant,” Richmond said. “I went over the proposal about the nightclub for Crawford Tower. Impressive.”

  “I know what makes LA tick, and I can make your hotel the hottest spot in the city,” Adrian said as he searched Richmond’s face for any similarities. After all, this stiff, buttoned-up New Yorker was his brother. They had comparable hazel eyes. Richmond caught Adrian’s intense gaze. He shot him a look that asked, what’s that all about?

  “You know, our other hotels don’t have anything like a nightclub. Why should this one be any different?”

  “Because it’s LA. People don’t just come to hotels because they’re visiting the area. They come for dinner, for parties, and for hooking up.”

  Richmond cleared his throat and uncomfortably tugged at his tie. “I’m not really sure if that’s the—”

  “What’s going on back here?” a deep voice boomed.

  Richmond and Adrian turned around and watched Solomon cross the construction site and approach them. His eyes held untold accusations and questions. Without a doubt, Adrian recognized himself in his younger brother. Younger by four months. Solomon sized him up as Richmond made the introductions.

  “Why is this the first time that I’m hearing about a nightclub in the towers?” Solomon demanded, ignoring Adrian’s outstretched hand.

  Pompous jackass, Adrian thought. He must take after his mother. Hell, he could be just like our sperm donor.

  “Because the decision hasn’t been finalized. Get over yourself, Solomon,” Richmond snapped.

  “Gentlemen,” Adrian said, reminding the bickering brothers of his presence. “I don’t think this is the time or the place. We can meet after the presser and have a drink. Relax, we’re in California, not Manhattan.”

  Solomon raised his eyebrow at Adrian. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “That you East Coast types need to mellow out.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me want to do business with you?” Solomon sniped.

  “It’s not your decision to make alone. This isn’t the Solomon Show,” Richmond retorted. “And I’m getting pretty sick of you—”

  “Why is it always an argument with you two?” Elliot Crawford said as he walked over to his sons. He didn’t give Adrian a second look as he stepped between Solomon and Richmond. The man with an ebony cane; caramel-brown skin, which was slightly wrinkled; and a bald head was the man who had ruined his mother’s life. This man, with a slight curve in his spine and bass voice, was his father. The man who had just walked away from him and his mother, the man he was going to make pay for breaking his mom’s heart. While the Crawford men argued, Adrian slipped away, not ready to come face-to-face with Elliot. Part of him wondered if the man would’ve recognized him anyway. Had he ever visited him or requested pictures of him? Adrian knew from reading his mother’s words that New York had been a dream for her. But she left because of this bastard. Maybe Elliot figured throwing enough money at him and his mother would make them disappear. Deep inside, though, the little boy who wanted a father still yearned to know Elliot Crawford.

  Walking out of the construction area, Adrian bumped into the woman he knew from his research was Solomon Crawford’s wife, Kandace. He smiled at the comely woman and who he assumed was her assistant as he nearly collided into them. Placing his hand on Kandace’s shoulder, he smiled at her. “Excuse me,” he said. She looked up at him and blanched a bit.

  “I didn’t see you there,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said, then extended his hand to her. “I’m Adrian Bryant.”

  “Bryant? I swear you wouldn’t have surprised me at all if you’d said your last name was Crawford,” she replied as she shook his hand and smiled. “I’m Kanda
ce Crawford, by the way.” The irony of Kandace’s recognition of the family resemblance and the fact that his father and brothers didn’t seem to get it at all wasn’t lost on him.

  “I’ve just had a conversation with the Crawfords . . . I’m pretty sure they don’t want to claim me as a family member,” Adrian said, chuckling.

  The other woman pointed toward Solomon, who was scowling at the trio. “I think Mr. Crawford is ready to get this press conference over with.”

  “You’re right, Nadia. I know that look.” Kandace turned to Adrian. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Bryant.”

  Adrian nodded in her direction and then gave Solomon an arrogant wink. He could nearly see the steam puffing from his brother’s ears. Watching the interaction between Solomon and Kandace did something unexpected to Adrian. It made him yearn for Dana. He didn’t know how long he stood there watching the subtle touches and sly smiles between them as if they knew a secret that they weren’t going to share with the rest of the world.

  He and Dana had had a connection like that once. He remembered the night she’d come to his club opening to take pictures for the LA Weekly. An hour earlier, they’d made love and joked about the groupies Atlanta rapper TI would attract. When she’d arrived and found Adrian and TI surrounded by half-naked women vying for a chance to get in VIP, they’d shared a smile that had meaning to them, and the rest of the world just wondered why they were so happy. He missed that more than he ever thought he would.

  When Solomon caught Adrian’s stare, he turned away and headed for his car. He didn’t have time to be nostalgic. He had to plan for his meeting with his brothers.

  Reaching into his pocket, Adrian retrieved his cell phone and dialed Louise Kilpatrick, an underground madam one of his employees had told him about. The plan was to get pictures of Richmond in a compromising position with a call girl. That would definitely puncture the good family image the Crawfords were trying to convey.

  “Yes?” the woman said when she answered the phone.

  “This is Easterling,” Adrian said. “Are we still on for tonight?”