Chapter 1

My kid brother called to give me a heads-up.

"Where are you?" He was stalling. He usually started the conversation with, "which time zone are you in?"

"San Francisco. I'll be in Denver all next month," I answered, giving him time to warm up to what was really on his mind.

"Your girlfriend has hit it big. Her book is coming out tomorrow."

He didn't need to elaborate. I knew our sister had put him up to making the call. Karen had warned me from the beginning that I was headed for a crash.

"She's really going places," Karen had said soon after she coerced me into admitting to my involvement with Ardy. I didn't heed her warning that I was in over my head and it would never work. There were other signs but I didn't want to admit that I recognized them. Karen didn't press it at the time; she knew I was in love and it was making me too fragile to think straight.

Having Steve deliver the news about Ardy's book was Karen's way of saying, "I tried to tell you she was smarter and you have nothing in common and you have to let her go." It was also her way of saying, "Damn it Jimmy, I never wanted you to get hurt. Why wouldn't you listen?"

The book wouldn't sell many copies unless it caught on as an extra-credit assignment in Sociology 101 classes, but it symbolized success. It elevated her to an accomplishment beyond anything I would ever achieve. I didn't need to see the press clippings to visualize the dust cover with a photo of her on the back; serious with a mischievous grin, proud. Or to know the title, Ellen; A Black Woman's Struggle, by Ardent Savoy, Ph.D. Hell, I had helped proofread parts of it four years before when we lived in the small house next to the flower shop. I had watched her sketch ideas for it on my chest, her long slender finger parting the hairs after we made love.

I pushed the room service cart into the hall and put the 'Do Not Disturb, ' sign on the door, wanting to be alone. I leaned back in the only chair, hoping to purge my memory of that night.

It had rained off and on all day; late fall rain, cold, pelting at times, near snow. I considered going after Ardy, but I was not sure I could find Ellen's apartment again. What if she called, wanting me to pick her up at the bus stop? I would miss the call and she would be out there someplace, alone and cold.

The night was still young, but it had been dark for two hours when she came through the back door, wet, exuberant and bubbly.

"I've had the most amazing day. I can't wait to tell you everything!"

"You're soaked. Let me dry your hair. Have you had anything to eat?" I went to get a towel without waiting for her answer.

The coat we had found in the thrift shop, made heavy by the rain, dropped to the floor as she stepped forward dutifully, her eyes wide, mouth open, anticipating. She raised her arms for me to pull the new sweater over her head and then turned for me to dry her hair. Water was dripping onto her bare shoulders.

"You're drenched to the bone. Take your shoes and jeans off. I'll run a bath," I said when I was satisfied the towel had collected most of the moisture from her hair.

I had lit a candle and was watching the tub fill when she entered the bathroom wearing only her bra and panties, surprising me with her lack of modesty. The only light in the room came from the candle, flickering to make the skin on her thighs glow orange, then brown and orange again.

"You'll have to leave if you want me to strip and get into that water." Her voice hit a raspy edge at "strip and get."

"I'll make you a sandwich."

"Jimmy?"

"Yes," I said, turning at the door. She was bending over the tub testing the temperature of the water, her butt filling out the panties nicely. She looked my way and our eyes locked for a full minute. She swallowed, making a vein ripple in her slender neck.

"Thank you."

A few minutes later I knocked on the door and heard her say, "Come in."

"Here, drink this," I said. She was submerged, her breasts visible. She made no attempt to cover them and I pretended I hadn't noticed her dark nipples floating near the water's surface.

"What is it?"

"Brandy in hot water."

She took a sip of the drink and wrinkled her upper lip.

"Drink it." She tipped the glass back and drained it.

"Good girl," I said and noticed her breasts break the water's surface as she handed the glass to me, showing the middle gap in her upper teeth, grinning like she often did.

I sat on the toilet seat while she munched on the sandwich and when she finished I took the plate. "What can I get for you to wear?" I asked, turning at the door.

"Could I have one of your T-shirts? And socks? Could I have a pair of those sweat socks you wear sometimes?"

"Are you sure this will be warm enough?" I asked when I came back with the clothes.

"You'll keep me warm. We'll sleep in my bed tonight. Will that be all right?"

I smiled and nodded as I sat on the toilet seat and watched her bathe. She held the soap in her hand, her face covered with white suds.

"Ellen was very critical about me being involved with a white boy."

"Why? Has she had some experience with white boys?" I said, not wanting her to see me reeling by what she had said about us "being involved." How had the subject of me being white surfaced?

"I suspect not. It's probably just an opinion she formed from hearsay. She says you're all very possessive by nature and want to own us. She says you have small cocks and don't know the first thing about pleasing a woman, especially a black woman."

These two sentences had been delivered causally, in Ardy's quiet way. She watched me, waiting for a reply. The candle flickered, moving my shadow on the water's surface, seeming to ripple.

"Well, that sounds accurate. We are possessive and some of us have small cocks. I don't know if I could please a black woman but I'm willing to try."

"I like your adventurous spirit." Her eyes searched mine, her mouth open, breaking into an infectious grin. I smiled back.

She splashed water onto her face to remove the soapsuds but her eyes never wavered from mine. I watched her swallow again and I swallowed too.

"Jimmy?"

"Yes?"

"I'm ready to get out now." She pulled the stopper and the water began to flow down the drain. Her eyes traveled to mine, timidly, but she did not cover her breasts, although they now showed above the water line.

I understood her meaning. She wanted me to leave the room so she could dry herself and get dressed. But I ignored her silent request and she didn't protest.

I spread the towel we had used to dry her hair. "Step out of the tub onto this," I said. I went to the towel rack, selected the largest one and unfolded it. When I turned she was out of the tub, naked and dripping with her back to me. Her head turned my way, waiting for me to drape the towel over her back.

She dried her front while I rubbed the fabric against her back and ass to make the towel absorb the water. I hoped she didn't notice my hands shaking.

"Do my hair some more," she said. I used the top section of the towel to rub the back of her head. When I dropped to my knees to pat down her legs, she let the towel drop and slipped the T-shirt over her head. I lifted her right foot and pulled a sock up her leg, and then did the same with her left one. The socks came almost to her knees and fit so loosely they were sure to fall.

"Did we get everything?" I asked, looking up to watch her turn.

She placed a finger under my chin, urging me to my feet. "Do you want to do it all again?"

She was smiling, patiently watching me as I ran my hands over her shoulder blades and down the small of her back, down to the end of the shirt where it covered the cheeks of her ass. We kissed and I could taste the brandy on her lips and tongue. I drew her close, running my hands over the cotton shirt, feeling her small breasts against my chest, and memorizing the feel of her narrow waist and how her butt fit my cupped palms.

I attempted to break the kiss but she clung to me, kissing passionately. When she released my lips I leaned down and blew out the candle, making the room dark. She giggled, sending a quiver down her back. I picked her up and carried her to bed, the one in her room, as she had suggested.

We were from the same hometown and had gone to the same schools, but I did not remember speaking to her until the day my parents drove us to school. Her Aunt Bertha rode along to make sure Ardent's dormitory room was safe and clean.

Bertha worked for my family on Tuesdays, changing the beds, doing the laundry and sprucing up the house to make it livable for another week. When mom heard that Ardent was fearful of riding the bus, she invited them to ride along with us. Ardent was to begin her second year at the school I was going to attend. Dad and I shared the driving. Mom sat in the back with Bertha and Ardent. We made the 500 mile trip in eight hours, including the time it took to stop for gas and to have lunch.

My attempts to seek information about the school were met with short but polite answers from Ardent. I wondered why Bertha was so protective of her and how she had gotten the strange name. But this was not the time to be inquisitive. I couldn't decide if she was shy or, being a sophomore, didn't want to lower herself to talk to a freshman.