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PROLOGUE
Melvi n Jordan was driving the M15 bus, which was headed east on 125th Street. An attractive brown-skinned woman dressed in a skin-fitting black halter top and matching pants got on at Lenox Avenue. As soon as their eyes met, he knew what was coming. She rooted through her purse, pretending that she could not find her Metro Card.
“I know that card is in here somewhere,” she said, smiling seductively.
Mel had Adrienne and Delilah at home waiting for him. He was happier now than he’d ever been in his life and wasn’t about to jeopardize his marriage for a fling with this woman or any of the other pretty women who were constantly throwing themselves at him. He just wanted her to get out of his space and find a seat somewhere way in the back of the bus. “You can’t stand here, miss. Don’t worry about the card. You can ride for free this time.” He turned his head away and checked his rearview mirror. When he turned back, the woman was still standing there smiling at him. Stupid bitch, he thought.
“Are you always this kind to the ladies?” she asked.
Mel kept his eyes on the road. “No. I’m usually only kind to my wife.” When he looked again, she had slipped away.
Mel had not started out as a bus driver. His first job out of high school was with the telephone company. For five years he’d worked as an installer without any trouble; then his womanizing caught up with him. Mel had been fucking his supervisor as well as several different telephone operators. At one point, he’d seriously considered asking the landlord of his bachelor pad to install a revolving door so that he wouldn’t have to get out of bed to let in and out each woman who came to see him. Some of them fell in love and wanted to become Mrs. Jordan; others were already married and just liked going to bed with him; a few were good-time girls who simply enjoyed the party.
When his supervisor started demanding a ring, he dumped her. Then his life at the phone company became a living hell. She talked to every female operator who would listen. They all became vengeful, and one day a little voice told him that if he showed up for work again, he would never get out of there alive. So he applied for a transfer and took a leave of absence until it went through. The transfer took him out of Harlem and into Greenwich Village, where his first assignment was to install a separate telephone line in an apartment that already had service. It was a common request, and Mel didn’t think much about it until the customer, Adrienne Montgomery, answered the door. Mel knew that she was someone special. She looked like a woman in her early thirties, yet she seemed younger and very naive in a way that made him feel protective toward her.
After that first meeting, he could not keep his mind off her. Every woman who came to see him afterward seemed like a slut in comparison.
He took her to the movies on their first date, and it wasn’t long before they were finding time to see each other every day of the week. Adrienne introduced Mel to the jazz clubs and the experimental theater groups that were so numerous in Greenwich Village. He taught her how to play cards: bid whist, spades, and poker. He enjoyed Sunday dinner at the Montgomery home and marveled at the fact that her parents had been married for thirty years, kissed frequently, and never raised their voices at each other. It took Mel a few weeks to overcome his shame and admit that his family consisted of only two people: the aunt who had raised him and now lived in the Bronx, where she wanted to be left alone, and his sister, Debra.
Before taking Adrienne to meet Debra, he held her tightly in his arms. He spoke plainly, “My sister isn’t going to like you, but that doesn’t matter to me at all.” When a surprised Adrienne asked why, he said, “She wanted me to marry this girl named Rose that I was going with for a long time. We broke up a few months ago, but she keeps hoping we’ll make up.”
Mel never saw Rose again. And since he was determined to make a clean break with his past, he left the phone company, too, and signed on with the New York City Transit Authority. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drive buses forever, but right now life was good.
Motherhood was turning out to be much more work than she’d bargained for. Adrienne Jordan was awakened at 6:00 A.M. Her six-month-old daughter, Delilah, was crying loudly. For food, cuddling, a human voice? It didn’t matter. Adrienne had to climb out of bed for the umpteenth time and soothe her only child. The two of them had been doing the same dance all night. Her husband, Mel, was working the midnight to 8 A.M. shift, and it would take him another hour to get home. They lived in a two-bedroom apartment and they had worked hard to decorate it. By the time they’d finished, it had wall-to-wall carpeting, a five-piece bedroom set with curtains that matched the spread, pictures on the walls, and walk-in closets that were bursting with clothes. He had once surprised Adrienne with a state-of-the-art stereo system and a matching sofa and love seat for the living room. The kitchen was furnished in what Adrienne called “a country motif,” and the separate dining room ha
d a full-length table, eight chairs, and a beautiful chandelier that they had found together on Jamaica Avenue.
Adrienne gazed down into the crib, and Delilah’s screams immediately subsided to a series of whimpers. Adrienne smiled and lifted her, cooing softly, “Is mama’s baby wet?” She kissed the little brown forehead and hugged the infant against her chest. Delilah uttered a little mew of contentment and grew quiet. Adrienne changed her diaper and heated a bottle of milk. It took some feeding and rocking, but soon Delilah was once again back in her crib, sound asleep.
Adrienne lay back down across her bed, feeling resentful. She hadn’t had any time to herself in almost a month and was feeling dog tired. I’m going to Harlem today and get my hair done, she thought, and after that I’m going to stop by Dan and Charlene’s house. They’re always good for a few laughs. Satisfied, she drifted back to sleep. A kiss on the cheek woke her up. Mel, still dressed in his bus driver’s uniform, smiled down at her. She saw smooth, deep dark chocolate brown skin and perfectly straight teeth. As he lowered his head to kiss her lips, she took note of his medium-length 1970s-style Afro. Mel was slender, and although he was only five-feet-ten, most people believed he was at least six feet. It was probably the Afro, which made him seem taller.
“Tough night?” he asked.
Adrienne stretched and groaned. “Delilah didn’t sleep four straight hours the whole time. I don’t know a lot about infants, but shouldn’t she be past this stage by now?”
Mel started to undress. “I don’t know, baby. I just need a shower and some sleep. I’m exhausted.”
Adrienne sympathized with him, but as much as she adored her husband, she needed to get away from Delilah for a while. She chose her words carefully. “Mel, I’m going to get my hair done today.”
He had stripped down to his T-shirt and shorts. “Take li’l darlin’ with you. I can’t baby-sit.”
