On the Run with Love by J.M. Benjamin

Author:J.M. Benjamin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-04-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-one

Four days later, Freddie drove the forty-five minutes from Goldsboro to Raleigh. It took him a few wrong turns before he found the high-rise Radisson Hotel downtown. It fit Gina’s style to a T; it was high class, trendy, and urban. The glass elevator floated up smoothly with a view of the large sparkling water fountain down on the lobby floor. Gina’s suite was located on the top floor.

Freddie was dipped in a brown, beige, and white linen outfit and a pair of brown and beige mid Gucci loafers. He had to admit to himself that he was nervous. With Gina, he never knew what to expect. She knew he was in a bind. And although he knew in his heart that she would look out, he knew she’d make him sweat it out, one way or the other.

Freddie got off the elevator, walked the hallway to her room, took a deep breath, then knocked on the door. He didn’t have long to wait before Gina opened the door.

“Hello, Freddie,” she said evenly, showing little emotion.

Freddie looked her up and down admiringly. Her dress was an auburn brown Versace with spaghetti straps. It had diamond-shaped cuts in the fabric on both sides that exposed the smooth mahogany tone of her firm hips. Her shoes, a pair of crystal-beaded mules with a modest heel, matched her dress. She didn’t look thirty-seven; she looked twenty-seven. Her natural hair, straightened and silky, framed her face in an asymmetrical cut.

“How you, ma?” Freddie asked. “Damn, you look good.”

He tried to kiss her but she turned away and replied, “I know. Let me get my purse and I’ll be ready to go.” She walked over to the nightstand and grabbed her small clutch bag.

“Ready? Where we goin’?” Freddie asked.

“Oh, you ain’t know? You takin’ me to dinner, a show, and whatever else I can think of. Just like you do Simone. You done spent enough of my money on her; now it’s time for you to spend some of her money on me,” she said as she glided by him and out the door, leaving him no choice but to follow.

When they reached the parking lot, she frowned and asked, “What is that?” She was referring to Freddie’s Accord.

“My car,” he replied, now feeling a little self-conscious about the late-model hooptie.

“Humph, we’ll take mine,” she said and tossed him the keys. Two rows away sat a platinum CLK 320 gleaming under the street lamp with milk-colored interior. Freddie opened the door for Gina, closed it, then walked around to the driver’s side. She unlocked his door and he got in. As soon as he started the car, the sounds of Colonel Abrams blared through the speakers. The club song took him back to Jersey as he put the car in drive and whipped out onto the main road like a typical “up north” driver.

Gina wasn’t playin’; Freddie was definitely taking her out. They went to a modern dance exhibition at the Durham Arts Theatre, then to a small and very exclusive jazz club, tucked away on the outskirts of Cary.

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