Beneath The Surface Read Online Free PDF Page B

I knew you were right.”
    “You forgive me?”
    “I’m still here and I haven’t slapped you yet, have I?” Carmen said and finished her drink.
    “Yet.” Black picked up her glass and went to the bar to freshen it. He returned to the table with the bottle.”
    “ You plannin’ on getting me drunk?”
    “No. I hope you plan on staying a while.”
    “I might. Depends on how good the conversation is.”
    “You know I’ve always been a very cunning linguist.”
    “I remember.” Carmen smiled.
    Black smiled at her. “It’s good to see you, Carmen.”
    “It’s good to see you too.”
    For the next couple of hours, they drank and talked. Carmen told him about her “life after Black” story, as she called it. She talked about why, at thirty-five, she had finally put modeling behind her and moved on to something new. A tear rolled down Carmen’s cheek when she told him about how her sister, Desiree was murdered, and how that led to her meeting Marcus.
    As he sat and listened to the parts of her life that Carmen shared, Black couldn’t help but stare at her. To him, Carmen looked better now than she did seventeen years ago—if that was possible.
    Carmen picked up the bottle of Bacardi and poured herself another drink. “So, you still in the same business?” she asked.
    “Didn’t you ask me that already?”
    “Yes, and you gave me the polite dinner conversation answer. But that didn’t answer my question, and you know it.”
    “Yes, Carmen, I’m still in the same business, with different levels of involvement, but the answer is yes.”
    “When’s the last time you killed somebody?” Black started to answer, but Carmen interrupted him, “Be honest.”
    “Yesterday.”
    “How many?”
    “Actually, or just responsible for?”
    “Never mind, don’t tell me. Things haven’t changed.”
    “Some things have,” Black said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a picture and handed it to Carmen. “Some things have changed a lot.”
    “Is this your daughter?” Carmen asked, and Black nodded his head. “She’s adorable. How old is she?”
    “Her name is Michelle, and she’s three.”
    “Look at her, all ladylike and sophisticated, with her dress and those gloves.”
    “She is quite the little lady,” Black said as Carmen handed him back the picture.
    “Picture that, Mike Black a daddy.” Even though she had done it earlier that evening, Carmen glanced at his left hand. “Is there a Mrs. Mike Black?”
    “There was, but she died.”
    “I’m sorry,” Carmen said.
    “So am I,” Black told her, and an uncomfortable silence slipped in between them, so he changed the subject before Carmen could ask any questions. “What about you? I notice that there’s no big diamond on your finger,” Black said and touched her hand.
    “No, no ring.”
    “What about Marcus?”
    Carmen eased her hand away from his and poured herself another shot of Bacardi. “I love Marcus. I was going to marry Marcus; then I heard my career calling and I ran back to Europe. But I was really running away from him.”
    “So what are you doing here?”
    “I moved back from Paris to take this job eight months ago. I get a call from Marcus two weeks ago saying that he needed a break from Atlanta, and he was thinking about moving to New York and opening a practice here. Two days later, he was here.”
    “Maybe you two can make it this time?”
    “I don’t think so. Marcus needs some time and space right now,” Carmen said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I shouldn’t be telling you all his personal business, but a woman he was involved with shot him in the head, and then killed herself in his office.”
    “A change of city might be good for him.”
    “I agree. But I think he’s really up here trying to get away from a woman named Angela, who’s been blowing up his phone since he got here. But since we’re just friends, I’m not asking any questions.”
    “Just friends?”
    Carmen tipped her head to one