Anytime Soon (15 page)
She looked genuinely surprised.
“So what do you do, spend all of your money on clothes? Because you got some nice stuff. Especially that black sweater jacket with the fur around the collar. I saw that in a magazine, and it cost more than my couch!”
“Girl, I would not and do not spend my money on expensive clothes. And no, I'm not rich, but my two best friends are, and they're very generous.”
She looked at me over the top of her menu with a priceless expression on her faceâa mixture of “Yeah, right!” and “Really?”
“Wait, hold up,” she said. “You tellin' me you have friends who buy you that stuff?”
“Something like that. Sometimes they give me gifts. Sometimes they just give me things they don't want or that doesn't fit. And it all happens to be good stuff.”
As she sat on this confession for a few seconds, her expression softened.
“So, I had you all wrong?”
“If you thought I was rich, yes. I'm striving for it, though,” I chuckled. “Any other misconceptions?”
She raised an eyebrow. “No. Man, I wish I had a friend who gave me Gucci shoes. My punk-ass friends can't even pay for dinner half the time.”
“The friends I have . . . Well, we've been friends for most of our lives, and we're close, like sisters.”
“Oh, that's good. I guess I was definitely wrong about you.”
“I guess I was wrong about you, too,” I said.
“Well, do tell! What did you think about me when you first met me?”
She leaned into the table.
Honestly?
“I kinda had you pegged for a party girl,” I said. “I had no idea you were so into your kid. You seem like a really good mom. As a matter of fact, it's you who seems to be rollin' in the dough. That condo of yours is amazing.”
She laughed uneasily.
“Life's a funny thing, girl,” she said.
When the waitress came back, we ordered appetizer samplers and strawberry smoothies.
I was having fun out with Octavia. One thing I learned fast was that the girl did get a lot of attention from men.
Good grief, she's like a man magnet!
There was just something magnetic about herâespecially her smile.
“What are you thinking about, girl?” she asked with mock attitude after I had been quiet for a while.
“Hanging out with you, Octavia, is not what I expected. Don't laugh, but in my entire life, I've only had two really good friends, so it's nice to hang out with somebody different.”
“You thought that with me it was gonna be about partying and guys all the time?”
Yes.
“No,” I lied.
“I do like to have fun,” she admitted, “but that's not my life. My son is everything. I wanna show him something different than I saw as a kid. I grew up in a neighborhood where nobody wanted to be. I may have a rough exterior, but I'm a mother above everything else.”
“So, are you still in touch with your kid's father?”
She looked me straight in the eye and revealed, “I get financial help.” She said this slowly, as if she were trying to feel me out. Her eyes said something that I couldn't interpret. Then she dropped her gaze and stirred her drink.
“Well, that's good,” I said. “Does he visit a lot? When I looked in your photo album, I didn't see any pictures of Malik with a man.”
“Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “You saw him in my photo album. You see him every day at work, too.”
“Huh?” I stammered, not understanding her meaning.
“Morris Thomas is Malik's dad,” she said, biting into a buffalo wing.
My eyes must have looked like saucers.
I never would've guessed she was Morris's type.
“Girl,” she said, “we hooked up after an office party a few years ago. It was stupid of us. Nothing ever really came of it. We're cool, though. He gives me money for Malik and used to spend some time with him. But since he got married last year, that stopped. I don't trip about it, though. I used to, but I can't make Morris do what he doesn't want to do.”
“Do people at work know?”
“I'm sure they do. I haven't told anybody, but I'm sure they've all figured it out. Malik looks just like him,” she said, stating the obvious.
She's right. So, that's why Morris's picture was in that album.
She changed the subject. “Shirley sure did look like a crayon last week,” she said, “with the red suit, red shirt, red stockings, and red shoes. And Taylorâ”
“I don't like Taylor,” I disclosed, “and I don't think she likes me.”
“Not many people like Taylor; but she's a good attorney, and that's why Jeff hired her.”
The mention of his name gave me goose bumps. But since Octavia had brought up the subject, I decided to ask her a few questions.
“How do you like Jeff?” I inquired nonchalantly.
“He's fair,” she offered. “The question is, how do
you
like him?”
“He's nice. And yeah, I guess he's fair.”
“That's it?” she said, leaning toward me.
“Yeah.”
“Now, that
can't
be true,” she said with a wicked grin.
“What do you mean?”
“Just take care of yourself, Ny. That's all I gotta say. What seems like a good thing can turn around and bite you in the ass.”
I let her words permeate. We ate dinner, gossiped, and had a drink. I dropped Octavia off at her luxury condo and headed home. Hanging out with her was different from going out with Catie and Sophie.
When I was ten minutes from home, my cell phone rang.
“Hey, you,” Carl said.
“Hey, you, yourself.”
“How have you been?”
I could feel his warm smile. I hadn't talked to him since the fight in Arizona, a week before, and I was glad to hear his voice.
“I'm hanging in there,” I said. “Just working. How 'bout you?”
“I was just thinking I would give you a call and see how you were.”
“What are you doing right now?” I asked him.
“Just chillin'. What's up with you?”
“Nothing. Just headed home. But I could be persuaded to make a detour.”
“Is that right?”
“Hold on, Carl, my other line's ringing.”
On the other line, I suddenly heard Jeff bark, “Where are you?”
“I'm getting on the freeway. Why? Where are you?”
“I'm at the office. I've been calling you all night,” he said impatiently.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was having drinks with Octavia, and I never checked my phone. Jeff, can you hold on for a second? I have somebody on my other line.”
“No,” he said brusquely. “You go ahead and get your other line. I'll talk to you later.”
“Wait! I can hang up. Just give me a sec.”
“Go ahead and talk. I have something to do anyway.”
“Jeff, what's going on?”
“Nothing's going on. I just don't want to interrupt the other important late-night conversation you're having.”
“What?”
“Look, just call me tomorrow or something, okay?”
“Jeffâ”
“Anaya, I don't like to play games. I'll be honest with you, I am jealous. I know it doesn't make any sense, and I shouldn't be, but I am.”
“Jeff, nothing's going on.”
“Meet me,” he said.
“What?”
“Meet me,” he repeated.
“How? When? Where? It's late.”
“Just meet me at the Starbucks parking lot. You know where. Ten minutes.” He hung up.
In the meantime, I had completely forgotten about Carl on my other line. It was just as well, because he had hung up anyway.
When I got to Starbucks, I saw Jeff's car. I got out of my car and walked slowly toward his, twisting my hips for his viewing pleasure. When I climbed into his car, I was temporarily distracted by two turquoise boxes with bows on top, which were sitting on the back seat. Jeff was smiling.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said back.
Even in the dimness of his car, I was certain that he felt exactly what I felt. So I ignored the doubts that lingered in my mind, erased the guilt, and embraced the feeling while I had it. I'd worry about the consequences tomorrow.
“I'm sorry I got upset,” he said.
“It's okay,” I soothed.
“No. It's not,” he insisted.
Before I could respond, he kissed me. He put one hand on my thigh and the other one behind my neck. The pull was gentle but firm. The kiss was sensual, and I didn't want it ever to end.
“I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that,” he said.
I caught my breath before speaking. “It's okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. I had imagined kissing him so many times but I had no idea it would feel so good. He was soft and gentle and loving and I was going straight to hell. There was an awkward silence for a few moments.
“Are you going to open your gifts?”
“Yes.”
Inside the larger box, there was a beautiful pink sweater. The smaller box contained a silver bangle.
“I love them, Jeff!” I gushed.
He couldn't stay long, so shortly after, I was back on the freeway heading home for the second time that evening.
I called Catie.
“Hello?” she drawled.
“Wow, I'm surprised you answered. You've gone so undercover, Homeland Security couldn't find you. Where have you been?” I asked.
“Shut up, Cow,” was her retort.
“You shut up,” I admonished her. “And call people back when they call you. I called you a few times last week.”
“You know I'm a busy woman,” she snickered, a bit wickedly. “What's up?”
I talked a little about work, and she mentioned some guy she was dating. It wasn't very often that Catie dated. It was hard for her to find men who were actually accepting of what she did for a living and Catie refused to lie about it. So, whenever she told me she was dating someone, I worried. You had to be a pretty unique individual to date a woman who slept with other men on a regular basis. I asked if she had talked to Sophie recently, and she said she hadn't.
“I'm worried about her,” I said.
“Girl, please. Sophie's spoiled. She's just like one of those rich, spoiled hoes you see on TV. Got all that money and just be messin' up because she don't have anything else to do.”
“Catie, that's not fair. You know Carmen and Terry don't give her any attention.”
“Attention? Sophie's a grown-ass woman. Her days of needing attention are over. She better get a good therapist like you did and chalk her childhood losses up to the game. Nobody has time for all that nonsense. She needs to move the hell on.”
“Catie, people deal with things differently. Maybe she's not the type to just leave her childhood in the past. Maybe she's acting out now because of what she missed back then.”
“Well, if that's the case, she's stupid on top of everything else. Who has all that time to be wasting?” Leave it to Catie to dispense practical advice.
“So, who's the new guy?” I inquired politely.
“Just a guy. Armani,” she answered cryptically.
“Armani? You're dating somebody named Armani?”
“Yes, I am. Dating is what people in our age group do. Try it sometime, Ny. When was the last time
you
had a date, Goode?”
Last night.
I had spent all this time trying to track Catie down to tell her about Jeff, and when I had the chance, I chickened out. Catie would understand. She knew all about men and relationships.
Tell her!
“I don't know. It's been a while,” I lied.
“That's what I thought.”
“Okay, so I'll live through you. Details, please.”
“Not right now, I gotta go.”
“Come on, Catie. We haven't talked in weeks. Just tell me about him.”
“Later.”
“Well, then, what are we gonna do about Sophie?”
“Sophie needs help. Until she admits that, there's nothing we can do.”
I got off the phone feeling heavy. It didn't feel good to have Sophie running around out there with nobody to help her or love her. But Catie was right. All the concern I had didn't mean a thing if Sophie didn't want help.
T
he next day, I wore the silver bangle that Jeff had given me. I was walking on air despite myself, and I even arrived at work a little earlier than usual. My desk was exactly the way I left it on Friday, except for the king-size bag of peanut M&Ms sitting on top of my keyboard.
I smiled to myself.
“What are you smiling at?” I heard Jeff say.
When I turned around to thank him, he was already so close to me I bumped into him.
We stood face to face for only a few seconds, but it felt like forever. I needed to move, but I couldn't.
“I'm sorry,” he finally said, stepping back a little. He looked embarrassed, almost shy.
Before I could respond, Shirley walked in, carrying two bags and a box of donuts. She put the donuts on the table near Jeff's office and walked over to my desk.
“Good morning, you two,” she said, smiling.
“Good morning, Shirley,” Jeff said cheerfully. “Looks like you have enough food there to feed the entire building.”
“Well,” she said, as she walked away toward the kitchen with her bags, “I bring enough to share, and everybody's welcome to whatever I have.”
When she was gone, Jeff turned back to me. “I love you,” he whispered.
“Please,” I said, shaking my head. “Don't say that.”
“I'm sorry,” he said, looking down.
“Stop apologizing.”
“I'm sorry for apologizing so much,” he said tenderly.
“It's fine,” I said. “I really need to get these summaries done.
Can we talk about this later?”