Highness (The Lonely Heart Series) Page 2

  It had been a major undertaking, but her agent loved the concept and so did the potential buyers. This was only her fourth collection, but so far, she had been moderately successful in her career. Some serious players in the industry were looking at her, national publications had written articles on her, and art brokers were putting in their bids.

  In a word, Hope had promise.

  Only, for the moment, she also had a block.

  This last painting had caused her the most agony of all 10. The previous nine, she had ripped through vigorously. However, much to her surprise, she had toiled over the face of Hannibal for weeks. The intensity in his pensive eyes was lacking, only because her creativity was starting to wean.

  “I need to rest,” she said aloud, setting her brush on the rustic vintage table across from her.

  When she looked over at the tall grandfather clock in the far corner of the room, she saw that it was a little past 10 o’clock at night. It dawned on her right then that she hadn’t talked to her boyfriend, Sean, since earlier in the day. Unfortunately, it was a common and selfish mistake that she made when she was in the middle of her work.

  Her studio was an interior room of the large old house with no windows to give indication as to the time of day. The room, opulent and grand in nature, was originally built pre-Civil War as a library for Confederate Colonel James Taffy, a man with a penchant for privacy, Whiskey, and books. It was later discovered, however, that the lower room was also an entrance to part of the Underground Railroad. His dual and often misunderstood personality, had been the discussion of Hernando, Mississippi for over a century as well as her family, but that was a whole other story.

  Normally, she would have pressed on through the night, burning the mid-night oil until the last of her work was completed or she spent the last of her energy, but tonight, she decided to stop her work and go and see him.

  Picking up her pink I-phone, she dialed his cell, but it quickly went to voicemail.

  A deep baritone with an extremely southern drawl came across the phone. “Hi, you’ve reached Sean Pritchard, I’m sorry that I missed your call. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks.” The phone beeped, but she decided against a message at the last minute and hung up.

  He had probably gone to sleep already considering it was a work night, but she’d never known him to complain in the past about an impromptu night cap. It had been days since they had made love and the last time that they had talked it had been about how rude his mother had been to her over dinner.

  Sean was a momma’s boy and the fifth of six well-groomed, genetically perfect Pritchard sons. However, his mother seemed to spoil him the most. When he had brought Hope home, for the first time over six months ago, to announce that they were dating, Mrs. Pritchard had nearly died at the dinner table, clutching her pearls while turning ghostly white.

  Her precious baby boy had brought home a black girl and an outcast at that.

  That Sunday had been one of the longest of Hope’s adult life, outside of the day that she had lost Grandma Pearl. In all the years that she had lived in the sleepy town of Hernando, Mississippi, she had never come into contact with blatant racism, which outsiders would have found hard to believe. But she found that while it was no longer polite to suggest the back door or another drinking fountain, people still kept to their own here. And as long as one kept to his or her own, they need not worry.

  Momma Pearl referred to it as polite racism, if there was such a thing, but Hope called it what it truly was… fragrant bullshit.

  “It was understood in my day,” Sean’s mother had explained at that very unfortunate one and only dinner. “No matter the times, people have to protect their own family lines. I mean, would you want your line washed out? When God said to be fruitful and multiply, he meant along the color lines…why else would He have made the races. It’s just common sense.”

  This trip down memory lane led quickly into a conversation by Hope, which included informing the old woman of the rulers of Africa – Kings and Queens who could buy and sell her ass with a single coin. Going on and on for over 20 minutes, Hope gave a brief but very detail explanation of how Africans were a proud people and blacks in the United States had nothing to be ashamed about, especially considering their survival of the middle passage, tyranny and slavery, despite their origins as the first humans, the most powerful and richest rulers and the first architects of civilization. Jaws dropped all around the dinner table, all except Sean, who sat with his mouth covered and his head down. He knew Hope and knew her mind, but he thought she’d have more discretion when it came to sharing her thoughts on race. When she was certain that she had made her point, she ended the conversation by saying, “So you see, in their day, you would not have been asked to sit at their table or even their presence. It’s all relative really.”

  Obviously, the conversation had not gone over well, and she was never invited back to dinner, but she and Sean had continued the relationship despite the disapproval of his mother.

  Since that evening, however, things had gotten a bit tense. Sean had become distant. Where he used to invite her out with he and his other colleagues from the law firm, he now found a reason to always cancel and spend the night with her alone. She hated to say that it was because he was ashamed of her, but sometimes, the doubt crept into the back of her mind.

  Hope knew that he was trying, but the work on her project was due in three months and she wanted it to be perfect, much as he was about his case load. The overall strain of their situation was souring a once sweet love affair, and she had to do something about it. And for her, that was to give him a little more attention. Tonight, she could have some spearmint tea, eat some cookies, and keep her focus on the painting until she broke through her creative block, but instead, she opted to stop her work and go surprise him. She was certain that he’d be happy to see her, and happy for a late night romp before bed.

  Stepping out of her denim overalls covering her pink leggings and long white t-shirt, she grabbed her keys from the counter in the kitchen and headed out into the drizzling rain to see him.

  Hernando was nice this time of year. Wind blew up her long black hair as soon as she closed the door. Stepping out onto the wrap around wooden porch, she closed and locked the large door behind her. Even with the moon hidden from the sky because of the clouds, the night still looked beautiful. Her house was perched up on a tall hill with two acres of a well-manicured lawn and tall oak trees surrounding her.

  Dashing out to her grandmother’s black 1979 Chevy pickup, she darted through the thick drops of rain with her hands covering her head and jumped into the pristine all black leather interior of the vehicle.

  She loved this old antique truck more than any other vehicle on the planet. It had been Grandpa Solomon’s prize possession, but when he passed, he had left it to Grandma Pearl, and when she passed, she had left it to her. It was one of many very important family heirlooms that she treasured, which was why she was berating herself for not parking it in the barn today instead of leaving it out in the driveway.

  As soon as she slipped the key in the ignition and turned, B.B. King blasted through the stereo. According to the music legend, the thrill was gone, but Hope was quite giddy about her late night booty call.

  When Hope arrived at Sean’s home, near the center of the newly developed portion of town, all of his lights in his renovated one-story brick bungalow were turned off and his BMW was parked in the driveway. By all accounts, just as she had expected, he was out for the night.

  Not wanting to wake him up by shining her lights on the house with her monster of a truck, she parked on the street in front of the house and jumped back out in the rain and ran to the open porch.

  She and Sean had not gotten to the point in their relationship where she had a key to his home or he had a key to hers, but he had shown her in case of emergencies, where he placed the extra one. Running her hands down into the fern hanging on the porch near the doo
r, she felt for the Ole Miss key ring with the house key attached.

  As quietly as she could, she slipped the key into the lock and pushed the large wooden door open.

  Closing the front door behind her, she tiptoed through the old cottage-style home, passed his perfect little brown leather sectional in the living room, the flat screen television against the wall, the neatly displayed law degree from Ole Miss, and the many pictures of he and his brothers and father during their famous fishing trips, through the small dining room complete with a petite oval dark oak table and finally down the small hall into the master bedroom on the left.

  A zinger of excitement coursed through her veins at the thought of surprising him. He always said that he would like for her to be more spontaneous, and she knew that he meant so about their sex life. Sean was into crazy little things like sneaking and having a quickie in the alleyway behind their favorite bar and making out above the stars in the back of his car. But Hope was more conservative, always afraid that someone might see. Slowly, she was beginning to push herself beyond her insecurities, and was trying hard to keep the fire between them burning.

  Looking at him now, she could see why coming here had been a good idea.

  Sean was a classically handsome man. At six feet, three inches, he was tall, and gorgeous. Everyone always complimented him on his physically stunning appearance - long dimples in his cheeks, a strong square jaw, smooth perfectly golden tan skin, freckles splashed across the bridge of his symmetrically perfect nose, rose-colored heart-shaped lips, perfect white teeth, auburn-colored eyes, long black lashes, heavy arched brows, deep voice and a head full of curly black hair.

  He was lying in the bed naked curled up to a pillow with the street light from outside to shine in and illuminate the small, well-maintained bedroom. The bathroom door was closed and the smell of a fresh shower permeated the room with mist.

  To put it in his mother’s words, he was the perfect catch.

  Hope had to agree.

  She reached down at ran her hand through his hair and was surprised to find it dry. He always washed it when he took a shower.

  “Mmm, come back to bed. Let’s make love again,” he said, reaching for her arm in the darkness. He grabbed her small forearm and pulled her closer to him.

  The word again rather threw Hope for a moment.

  Instinctively, Sean’s eyes flashed open when he smelled Hope’s perfume. Surprised, he sat up in bed and pushed up against the headboard, startled and visibly confounded by her presence.

  Hope smiled gently. “Where you dreaming of me?” she asked, sitting by him on the bed. Touching his face, she leaned in to give him a kiss.

  Sean stuttered. “I…” he looked toward the bathroom door. “Hope…” He said her name apologetically.

  His demeanor was so out of place until she could not help but stop and analyze him. What was wrong? Why did he seem so afraid? Hope followed his gaze to the bathroom door and stood up beside the bed again. It was then that she noticed his clothes thrown on the floor, a purse and heels beside it.

  He wasn’t alone.

  “Who’s in there?” Hope asked, walking around the bed toward the bathroom door.

  As she asked the question in a strained voice, the door opened quickly. “Who are you talking to in there?” a female voice asked back. A petite brunette stepped out with a towel wrapped tightly around her body. She looked over at Hope and frowned. “I thought you said that you two were having problems,” the woman said, swallowing down anger at Sean.

  Sean, realizing that the situation was quickly escalating, jumped up from the bed and stood in between the women.

  “Is this the woman that you work with?” Hope asked, voice trembling. Her mouth flew open in shock. “You’re fucking your co-worker behind my back?”

  “Wait,” Sean said, pulling Hope back toward him.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” Hope exclaimed, pushing him away. “How could you lie to me?” Tears erupted from the corners of her eyes.

  “How could you lie to me?” the woman behind him asked, hitting Sean in the back with her small fist.

  “I didn’t lie,” Sean said, turning toward the woman. “I didn’t lie to you, Ashley. Just give me a moment to explain. Everything that I said to you about Hope and I is true. This just looks all wrong, but it ain’t how it looks.”

  It was that small decision to turn to Ashley instead of her that seemed to push the slow knife deeper for Hope. She stepped back, hand over her mouth and tried to control her sudden desire to scream. “Well then, how is it? You lying son of a bitch,” she growled at him.

  Sean turned to Hope. “You’re right. I am a son of a bitch,” he said, shaking his head. “And I’m so sorry, but things just ain’t working out for us.”

  “You think!? When were you going to tell me?” Hope said, voice growling at him. “How long has this shit been going on behind my back?” Tears and sobs clouded her vision in the dark room and all she could do was try to keep it together.

  “You’ve been busy. I’ve been busy. I thought it was obvious, Hope. My mother is damn near having a break down over our relationship.”

  To Hope, that was a cop-out. “You knew how your mother was before you brought me into her home! How was I supposed to know that you couldn’t handle her?”

  He put up his hands defensively. “Look, I take the blame for this okay. I’m not blaming anything on you, I’m trying to explain.”

  In the middle of the fight, Ashley grabbed her clothes and went back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Sean’s shoulder sank. “I never meant for you to see this. I was going to find some time to tell you…alone.”

  “Why couldn’t you tell me before you screwed her?” Hope asked, wiping tears. “Why couldn’t you just be honest with me?”

  “Harder said than done,” Sean admitted. He threaded his fingers together as he pleaded with her. “I’m sorry. You’re a real nice girl, but I’ve never been in an interracial relationship before. The pressures are coming from literally everywhere - my work, my home, my family and friends. They all didn’t mind when they thought this was just a fling, but when it was starting to get serious, so did their contempt for it.”

  “So you’re ashamed of me?” She asked, pushing him in his chest.

  He stepped back and recovered his footing.

  Hope’s heart broke in front of him. Was he really so small of a man that he would hurt her like this to appease the people around him?

  Sean realized that he was naked and grabbed his underwear. Sitting on the side of the bed, he slipped them on. “I’m just not strong enough to deal with it. This is a small town. It’s where I grew up. We aren’t in New York City somewhere. People look to me and my family, and no matter how educated you are, no matter how pretty you are, and God knows that you’re pretty, it’s just not going to work here…not yet.”

  “So what you’re saying is that in your mind, you’re too good for me?” Hope couldn’t believe her ears. “Because I’m Black?” she dug deeper.

  “I don’t want to get into a race debate. This is hardly the time,” Sean huffed.

  Hope folded her arms. “But you’re saying that a Black woman is…beneath the good White people of Hernando, Mississippi?”

  “He’s saying that, not me!” Ashley screamed out of the bathroom. “He doesn’t speak for everyone in this town!”

  They both looked toward the bathroom door, and then Sean continued.

  “I’m saying that it won’t work. I like you; hell, I think I love you. But I worked my ass off to get that job, and I want partner. I’m never going to get it with you on my arm. My parents won’t hear it, and my brothers won’t either, although they are nice to you when you come around. So, instead of ruining each other’s lives, we have to do the mature thing and part ways.”

  Hope straightened her back despite the agony of his words. With tears still flowing down her cheeks, she pursed her lips together. “You have…” she sniffled, �
��no spine Sean Pritchard, and to be honest, you’re not worth the time or effort it would take to disgrace you the way that you have just humiliated yourself with that backward ass logic and that false sense of self.” She wiped the tears again from her now reddening cheeks. “Not to mention that you are a coward and a lair, and it doesn’t matter what you want or don’t want, because I don’t want you anymore.”

  Covered in embarrassment, Sean wanted to say something, but every word would have a double-edge sword attached to it. Silence was his only option. At least, it gave him a reasonable cop out.

  However, there was no denying that he felt absolutely horrible for how this had happened, only he couldn’t deny the more dominant feeling inside was one of relief. He could go back to his life before race was an issue, before he was the one-half of the odd couple of their small town.

  “I’m sorry, Hope,” he whispered.

  “Go to hell Sean and take your bigoted ideals, family, friends, and promotion with you,” Hope said, turning on her heels and out of the bedroom.

  Deciding against stopping her or even apologizing anymore, he allowed Hope to dash out of his home back into the rain, while he focused on making things better between him and Ashley – his better choice, his only choice now that she had seen the truth.

  ***

  Bursting through the front door, out onto the porch, Hope finally exhaled as a strong gust of wind and rain blew past her and cooled her burning face. Grateful for the change in environment, she stepped out into the storm in a complete daze.

  Almost in a trance, she moved through the night air in slow motion. Getting into the truck, she barely noticed the sudden downpour preventing her from being able to truly see the road or the fact that the wind had picked up and the lightning and thunder with it.