Ciara had hated each and every one of them. Every guy was usually only after one thing and poor Diamond never figured it out until it was too late and he was moving on to the next person. Until Paul Williams had come along. Nearly forty years her senior, he’d married Diamond and had later left her his fortune, which she’d had the bad sense to waste. “Diamond, how much did those boots set you back?” Ciara asked.
Diamond looked down sheepishly and didn’t answer.
“Diamond, how much?” Ciara’s voice rose an octave.
“Oh, two hundred dollars,” Diamond whispered.
“Two hundred dollars! Are you insane?”
“I know, but I just had to have them,” Diamond explained. “They fit my new knit jersey dress to perfection.”
Ciara was so frustrated at her mother’s lack of discipline. Every time she was low on cash, she came knocking on her door.
“And you want me to bail you out, I presume. Why do you always do this, Diamond? Do I look like your personal ATM?”
“Of course not,” Diamond replied and on cue tears began to form in her dark brown eyes. “It’s just, you know I haven’t had an easy life. I grew up on the streets and had to raise you all on my own.”
Ciara sighed. She’d heard this song and dance a million times. Diamond had run away from home at sixteen and had met up with some Las Vegas showgirls who’d taken her under their wing and taught her how to get by. Ciara understood all that because she’d lived through it with her, so she would not be made to feel guilty because Diamond was a spendthrift.
“It’s not my fault you ran off with another man and didn’t tell Daddy. He would have helped, you know. Taken care of the both of us.” From what she’d heard, her father had adored Diamond and when she’d become pregnant, they’d quickly gotten married. Diamond hadn’t been content as a married housewife and mother, but she’d been young and gullible and had run off with the first smooth talker she’d met, leaving Ciara’s poor accountant father with a broken heart. And when that relationship had failed, Diamond had returned to the only thing she knew how to be: a Las Vegas showgirl.
“So, you blame me for your horrible life?” Diamond questioned her.
“Who else should I blame? You are the parent. Aren’t you?” Of course, Ciara wondered about that sometimes. Many a time, she’d had to help a tipsy Diamond up the stairs after one too many or had been forced to listen to her get it on with some stranger.
Diamond shrugged her shoulders. “What’s done is done, Ciara. I can’t make up for it, baby girl. But you are in a position to help your mama. You’re a big-time reporter now.”
Little did she know, thought Ciara. Her reporter’s salary barely fed her. Ciara stood up abruptly. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”
“And the money?” Diamond turned on the puppy-dog eyes. Ciara shook her head. She should let Vince kick Diamond out, maybe then she would learn her lesson. Of course, then she would have no place to go and where would she end up? At Ciara’s doorstep. No, no, it was better she give her the money and hope for the best.
“I don’t have two hundred.”
Diamond smiled and lightly touched her cheek. “Whatever you could give me would be great.”
Ciara leaned over, grabbed her purse and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet. “How about one hundred?” Ciara held up the money.
Diamond quickly snatched it and stuffed it down her bustier.
“Thanks, kid, you’re a real lifesaver.”
Ciara glanced down and her watch read a quarter to two. “I’ve got to go, Diamond.”
“Listen, Ci-Ci, I really appreciate your coming by. You always help your mama out when I need it.” It meant the world to Diamond that even though her daughter had moved up in the world, she hadn’t given up on her.
“Please don’t get all mushy and sentimental, Diamond. It doesn’t suit you,” Ciara retorted, walking to the door. She may have agreed to help her, but Ciara didn’t get the warm fuzzies from her mother.
“Okay, okay.” Diamond knew a good thing when she had it and wouldn’t push. “I’ll see you later,” she said, closing the door behind her.
Ciara breathed a sigh of relief and took the stairs two at a time to get out of the dingy bar. Thank God that was over, she thought rushing back to her car. Now she could look forward to her evening with Jonathan and all that implied.
Chapter 4
When Ciara arrived at Capital Grille, she found Jonathan waiting for her at the bar having a Scotch neat. Ciara was somewhat nervous about her attire. “I hope this is okay?” she asked, referring to her buttercup business suit. She hadn’t had the time to go home and change.
“Of course it is.” Jonathan grinned widely. “You look beautiful.” From where he was, he liked everything he saw.
“Have a seat, you’ll love this place. They make the best lobster bisque.”
“Ooh, it sounds delicious,” Ciara said. “And I’m starved.”
“CG has excellent entrées and a great selection of wines.”
“Sounds mouthwatering,” Ciara licked her lips in anticipation.
Jonathan followed the tiny action, mesmerized by her mouth.
“Your table is ready,” the hostess said, interrupting them.
“I’m curious as to why a guy like you would choose to get involved with me, a television reporter. I’m sure your family advised against it.” Once they were seated, Ciara wasted no time cutting to the chase.
“True, they don’t agree,” he replied. “But I make my own decisions.”
“In a political campaign, I doubt that’s even possible,” Ciara said aloud.
“So you think I’m a puppet and my father pulls the strings?”
“No, no, no,” Ciara explained herself. “I merely meant that you probably have a lot of people telling you how to dress, how to talk, how to act. It must be extremely difficult. I’m sure they’re the reason you didn’t announce your candidacy today. I think that was a wise decision.”
“Thank you.” Jon smiled. At least someone appreciated his game plan. “I thought I might appear too eager to the public and not respectful of my father’s tenure if I announced my candidacy five minutes after he resigned from office.”
“I agree with you. The public can be somewhat fickle, but that’s what makes the news so exciting and unpredictable.”
The way she talked about her job with such passion made Jonathan envious. It must be nice to decide for yourself the direction your life would take. For him, his life had been planned out since birth: private school, Harvard, law school, and now running for office. “Have you always known you wanted to be a reporter?” Jonathan asked. “Because you seem to enjoy what you do.”
“Well, of course,” Ciara replied as if the thought to do anything else had never crossed her mind. She’d always wanted to be a reporter. That was why she’d run her high school and college newspapers. “I love what I do. Being a journalist is in my blood. I live it, I breathe it, 24-7.”
“Wow, say how you truly feel!” Jonathan said, overwhelmed by the sheer enthusiasm in Ciara’s voice. He wished he knew what that felt like. Yes, he was good at being a lawyer and politician. He’d trained his whole life for it, but was it his