A Change Had To Come Read online

  A Change Had to Come

  Also by Gwynne Forster

  When Twilight Comes

  Blues from Down Deep

  If You Walked in My Shoes

  Whatever It Takes

  When You Dance with the Devil

  Getting Some of Her Own

  A Different Kind of Blues

  A Change Had To Come

  When the Sun Goes Down

  Breaking the Ties that Bind

  Destiny’s Daughters (with Donna Hill and Parry “EbonySatin” Brown)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  A Change Had to Come

  Gwynne Forster

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing is a lonely profession. To succeed, we writers must shut out friends and family and concentrate upon the characters we are creating and the lives we are building for them. In all of this, my family and my friends are understanding,sympathetic and supportive. I cannot imagine what I would do without the love and deep caring of my family: Dr. George T. F. Acsádi, my beloved husband, and Peter F. Acsádi, my beloved stepson. And it is with deep love and affection for my dear friends, Dr. Melissa M. Freeman, Jeannetta Harris, Ingrid Kasper, Carole A. Kennedy, and Carol Joy Smith, that I acknowledge their unwavering support.Finally, I thank my fellow writers Audrey Braver, Francine Lange and Gavin Grace for their friendship and for sharing their awesome talent that always amazes me.

  Table of Contents

  Also by Gwynne Forster

  Title Page

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  HOT FLASH

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  “Just let somebody try to stop me now,” Leticia Langley said to herself as she read her brand new contract with First D.C. Media, Inc, the parent company of The Journal. “Nobody can say I got this job on my back or because I make a gorgeouscocktail-hour date. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it’s a stepping stone to what I’ll get. I’ll show Miss High-BehindThomas what it means to have a brain.”

  One month after her college graduation, nine years late, Leticia landed a job as food columnist for The Journal, a newspaperin Washington, D.C. Leticia’s degree qualified her to write for a newspaper, but not to give advice on food. For the latter, she’d gotten her credentials working as a short order cook in third-class restaurants, waiting tables, and cooking for herself and her late father from adolescence until he passed on after an eight-year illness. However, lack of familiarity with gourmet food wouldn’t hinder Leticia; she bet on her sharp mind to get her through most any problem she encountered.

  One thing Leticia could not boast about was her appearance.With work and study demanding so much of her, she hadn’t had time to worry about the way she looked. Indeed, she had accepted that as her lot in life. But when she went to be interviewed for employment at The Journal, she couldn’t help noticing the fashionable women, not to speak of the smooth-looking men.

  “In that group, I looked as if I were applying for a job as a scrub woman,” she said to herself as she left the building that housed The Journal. As usual, her quick mind and her knowledge of a wide variety of topics had served her well, and she got the job. But at her graduation from Howard U, she had vowed never again to be a wallflower or the odd woman out, and she didn’t like the differences between herselfand the women she saw at The Journal. Never again was anybody going to look down on her.

  She had been so proud when the dean handed her the degreeand called her name, Leticia Langley, Summa Cum Laude, best in the class. But as she returned to her seat, Geraldine Thomas, a fair-skinned African American with straight hair, stuck her foot out, tripping Leticia.

  “I wish I was black and had short nappy hair,” Geraldine had hissed. “Maybe I’d get some of what’s coming to me.”

  Leticia had turned to Geraldine, the classmate who she had helped with exams and term papers, and said, “You expectto get the best, don’t you, Geraldine? From student representativeto homecoming queen. Well, babe, you got a pretty café au lait face and silky hair, but like the straw man, you didn’t get a brain. Look me up in five years, and I’ll really make you sick.”

  After that day, every time she answered an ad, she thought of Geraldine, stiffened her back and kept plugging. Now she had a job, a good one, and she was on her way. At home, she looked through her closet and sucked her teeth in disgust. She couldn’t say which looked worse, her clothes or her hair. After brooding for a second, she snapped her fingers.

  “Nobody’s going to tell me that every black woman workingat that newspaper has naturally silky long hair. Nobody,” she said. She looked at hers, almost too short to curl—though she’d never cut it—and shrugged. In her experience, the brothers tended to freak out over women who had hair more than eight inches long, and those females at The Journal knew that. “I’ll give the fellows something to sweat about.”

  She bought a copy of the Washington Afro-American and, sure enough, about half of the ads had to do with hair, and most of those were for weaves. She chose a shop on ConnecticutAvenue, reasoning that only a successful hairdresser could afford the address and, two days later, she sported a weave with hair below her shoulders. Staring at herself in the hairdresser’smirror, she said aloud, “What a difference a full head of hair makes. Thank God for Korean and Indonesian women.”

  “You sure look like a different woman,” one of the hairdresser’sclients said. “You look real good.”

  “Thanks. I hardly recognize myself, but that’s exactly why I got this weave.”

  “Everybody’s wearing them,” the hairdresser said.

  “Yeah,” the client said, “shorten your skirt and put on some high heels, and you’ll knock ’em dead going and coming.”

  She left the hairdresser’s shop with the woman’s words ringing in her ears. She needed something to wear to work, but she didn’t know where to start. Browsing along ConnecticutAvenue, she saw many styles and choices and realized that she didn’t know what to buy.

  Leticia hated to admit to her cousin, Kenyetta, that she didn’t know how to dress, because even with her considerable girth, Kenyetta always managed to look great. And another thing: her cousin liked to think that she was steps ahead of Leticia. She had her own apartment, well furnished with the use of her several credit cards, and she’d had Leticia understand that she didn’t like the idea of an apartment mate, and that she had to be by herself. Since Kenyetta was the only relative with whom Leticia maintained close contact, she accepted the snub and throughout her college years lived in a one-room apartmenton the fourth floor of a building that had no elevator.

  After Leticia got home, she called her cousin. “Hey, girl. It’s a quarter to twelve. How about meeting for lunch and then going shopping? I just got a job, and I need some clothes.”

  “Hi. It can’t be that urgent. Today’s Saturday, and I haven’t even done my Monday assignments.”

  “Use the ones you did for Monday before last, Kenyetta. I’m supposed to start at The Journal Monday morning, and I don’t have a thing to wear.”

  “The Journal? Why didn’t you say so? Let’s meet at City Lights at about one
o’clock. We can shop right around there. Lots of great stores near Dupont Circle and on Connecticut Avenue. And if you’re gonna do some serious shopping, bring your credit cards.”

  Leticia agreed. As usual, Kenyetta had managed to let her know that, between the two of them, Kenyetta was the one with the smarts. She’d swallow it for now, but it wouldn’t alwaysbe that way. She waited outside the restaurant to avoid the embarrassment of sitting alone at a table waiting for her cousin, who never kept appointments on time.

  To her amazement, Kenyetta walked right past her, went inside and sat at a table for two. “Where are your eyes?” Leticia asked her cousin, taking her seat. “You walked right past me, and I could swear you looked me right in the eye. What’s with you?”

  “Leticia? Well, I’ll be damned! Girl, what did you ... oops! Is that a weave or a wig? Whatever it is, you should’ve been born with it.”

  “It’s different,” Leticia said, refusing to thank Kenyetta for the backhanded compliment. “I want something to eat that isn’t loaded with garlic.”

  Kenyetta shrugged and looked toward the ceiling as if asking for help. “Then we shouldn’t have come to a Chinese restaurant. Try some shrimp.”

  Leticia ordered the crab balls and shrimp fried rice. “I think I ought to dress more stylishly, Ken, and especially in that office. It’s like a house of style.”

  “Not just that office. Every office is like that. You’re just noticing. Let’s get this straight. If you’re going to buy pants that don’t fit and skirts that stop halfway up your legs, I’m going back home as soon as I finish eating this pork satay.”

  “I must not be so bad now,” Leticia said to herself, glancing at the handsome blond man seated diagonally across from her who seemed unable or unwilling to remove his gaze from her. Kenyetta turned to see who or what had Leticia’s attention.

  “No way, girl. You just leave that alone.”

  She wasn’t used to having strange men admire her, and she felt like bathing herself in it. “If he was a bum, he wouldn’t make me preen,” Leticia said, “but that guy’s rocking. Look, I love to eat dark chocolate, but I’ll cook with any kind that’s handy. You get my drift?” she said, looked toward the stranger and smiled. He returned the smile, and, embarrassed at her forwardness, she said to Kenyetta, “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You remember where you came from,” Kenyetta said. “This isn’t Atlanta, but it’s not Sweden either.”

  The waiter brought the check and told them to pay on the way out. When they stood to leave, Leticia’s admirer stood, smiled and sat down. She smiled in return and, as she glanced to her left, her gaze landed on a handsome brother who sat alone with his gaze fixed on her. Hmm. If hair did that for a woman, what would happen if she had some decent clothes? She said as much to Kenyetta.

  “Don’t get carried away. They’ll cool off when they find it’s not real.”

  Leticia stopped walking and looked at her cousin. “SometimesI think you could shoot a poor little bird.”

  “Why not? Some people live off ’em,” Kenyetta said. “Let’s go in here. If it’s a Mick Burgge, it’s in fashion.”

  Leticia bristled with annoyance, but she didn’t let on. “I said I wanted something suitable for business wear. I don’t want to look like a movie star on Oscar night. Those pants look nice.”

  “Low-slung pants are on their way out.”

  “Thanks,” Leticia said. “I don’t like them anyway. When we get through dressing me, we’re going to start on you.”

  Kenyetta stared at her. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “About six dress sizes. Come on. It’s getting late.”

  Leticia had never bought more than two items at a time, and that only rarely, but after seeing herself in a softly tailoredavocado-green linen suit with a silk blouse of matching color, she warmed up to her task.

  “Who would have thought you had decent legs?” Kenyetta asked, observing her cousin in a knee-length red voile dress. “Girl, you got some catching up to do.”

  “And believe me, I can’t wait.”

  Kenyetta Jackson took the bus home to her apartment in a condo on Rittenhouse Street in the northwest section of Washington. It was a neat, attractive block, and the quality and condition of the building in which she lived gave notice that she was making it. She hadn’t driven her blue Taurus downtown, because parking—even in garages—was at a premiumon Saturdays, and she didn’t feel like spending half an hour or more trying to park. She got home as darkness settledin, checked her answering machine, and realized that she wouldn’t finish her lesson plans that night.

  She dialed the number. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Where were you?” She told him. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”

  “Uh ... I didn’t think I was seeing you tonight,” she said.

  At the long silence, her fingers began to shake. “You had some other plans?” he asked.

  She calmed herself. “I haven’t done my lesson plans for next week, and I have to turn them in Monday morning.”

  “Oh, that. You can get it done tomorrow when I won’t be able to get away. See you shortly.”

  She freshened up as quickly as she could, changed her underwear, combed her hair and went to the kitchen hoping to make a few sandwiches before he arrived. However, when the intercom sounded she gave up that idea. Minutes later, she opened the door and looked up at him.

  “Hi. You’re right on the minute,” she said, reached up and offered her lips. He grasped her shoulders, plunged his tongue into her mouth and let her feel the pressure of his need.

  “Come on in, before my neighbors catch me making out in my doorway. I’d only been home a minute before I called you,” she told him, “and I’m not sure what I can give you to eat.”

  “Why don’t you call out for something? Chinese would be good.” He sat in the big leather chair that he favored.

  She was about to tell him that she ate Chinese food for lunch when she remembered that he always expected her to pay when she ordered food delivered, and that at least Chinese food wasn’t too expensive. “Okay. Anything you especiallywant?” she asked him.

  “Whatever you choose, baby.”

  She set the table. “Gosh, I don’t have any beer.”

  He slumped in the chair. “Oh, for goodness sake. Can you call them back and ask them to send a carton?”

  “I’ll try, but we could have some wine.”

  “All right, I’ll take the wine. My throat’s dry as all get out.”

  She poured two glasses of white wine. “How’d I get so lucky?” she asked him.

  He threw up his hands. “Oh, she’s been acting out all week. Her brother called and said her mother isn’t feeling well, and that was all the excuse she needed. She put a few things in a suitcase, got in her car and took off. For all I know, her brother didn’t tell her any such thing. She may not even have gone to Richmond.”

  Kenyetta didn’t tell him how easily he could verify it, becauseshe suspected that he merely wanted something to gripe about. Instead, she pushed a big Moroccan-leather pouf to his chair, sat at his feet and looked up at him. “Let’s not talk about that.” She rested her head on his thigh. “Can you spend the night?”

  “I’d better not. No telling what time she’ll call me.” He reached down and ran his hands over her breasts. “If that delivery man doesn’t get here soon, he may have to leave the food with the doorman.” When she didn’t respond, he nudged her with his knee. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Uh-huh, but it’s against house rules to leave food with the doorman. Besides, who’d pay the delivery man?”

  He leaned back and rested his head against the chair. “I can see it’s not going to be my night. I’ve been getting a blast of cold air all day, and I guess it continues here.”

  “Oh, don’t say that, honey. After we eat, everything will be fine.”

  “So you say.” He jumped up, leaving her head to bounce against the chair. “I’d better be going.”

/>   She sat up straight. “Reggie! For goodness sake, you don’t mean that. What did I do?”

  “Nothing. And that’s the problem. This was just another crap shoot.” Before she could get to her feet, she heard the door slam. Simultaneously, the intercom buzzed, and she went to answer it.

  “Thanks,” she said to the doorman. “I need about five minutes. Then would you send him up?” She didn’t want Reggie to encounter the man getting off the elevator. Now, maybe she’d get her lesson plan done. She wouldn’t have been able to get in the mood for sex, no matter how she’d tried.

  “Why do I do it, when he never takes time to let me enjoy it? Oh, hell! Now I have to eat twenty-seven dollars’ worth of Chinese food.”

  After paying and tipping the delivery man, she put the food in the oven, turned on the warmer and sat down to work on her lesson plans. Junior high school students were trouble enough with their early adolescent behavior. Without engagingstudies and assignments, they became a problem.

  Reggie was always impatient and had the nerve to appearvirtuous to boot. He swore that his wife tricked him into marrying her, claiming that he had impregnated her. But as soon as he married her, her period arrived. His wife wouldn’t consider an annulment or a divorce, because accordingto her, it was against her religion. Sometimes Kenyetta wondered about Reggie’s honesty. Nobody put a gun in his back and made him stay with the woman. He could be great fun when things were going his way, but at other times, he was like an ill-tempered child.

  She had asked herself dozens of times why she didn’t break off her relationship with him, but at least he wanted her, and he said he needed her. Oh, well, she had to get her work done; she’d deal with the matter of Reggie some other time.