Lessons From a Younger Lover (19 page)

Carol got so excited at seeing Ransom's Jeep parked at Kristy's that she almost ran over a little old lady crossing the street.

“Move, you old bird!” she yelled, honking her horn and giving the startled senior citizen the finger. The old woman used her cane to point out the red light that indicated that pedestrians had the right of way. She then shook her head and continued crossing the street.

“I can't believe old Ms. Disney is still alive,” Carol mumbled as she tapped her wheel impatiently. “I should have run over the old biddy.”

Carol's light turned green and she hurriedly crossed the street and entered the coffee shop parking lot. Just in time, Ransom exited Kristy's and headed to his Jeep the moment Carol parked beside it.

“Hey, stranger,” Carol said. She got out of her car and leaned into Ransom's Jeep. He was already inside and had started the engine. “Wait! Ransom, can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Five minutes, please. I thought we were friends.”

Ransom hesitated a moment before turning off the car. “Okay.”

“Why are you so angry with me?”

“I'm not angry with you, Carol. I'm just done with you. You effectively ended our friendship when you started lying on Gwen, not to mention lying on my child. That was really the last straw, right there.”

“How did I lie? You two
aren't
seeing each other? And I would never lie on Isis. I love that little girl, you know that!”

Ransom reached for his keys.

“Okay, maybe I said some things that weren't true,” Carol rapidly continued. “But I couldn't help it, Ransom. You know how I feel about you, that I was hoping you and I could have something special together.”

“I never gave you reason to think that would happen. I mean we were cool and all, and I didn't mind hanging out because of how our daughters got along but, Carol, I never looked at you like that, as someone to date. Nothing personal, you're just not my type.”

“And Gwen Smith is? Good Lord, Ransom, she went to school with Adam, for God's sake! She's ancient!”

Ransom started his car. “Move.”

“Just one night, Ransom. I promise the things I can do will make you forget all about—”

“Good-bye, Carol!”

Carol stepped back and watched as Ransom peeled out of the parking lot. She was in a major huff, as a distorted memory of what she and Ransom used to have together played out in her mind.
If it hadn't been for her…
Carol fumed, as she got into her car and headed for Joanna's house.
If it hadn't been for that bitch, Ransom would be mine!

 

An hour later, Joanna pulled into her apartment complex parking lot and noticed Carol waiting for her, inside her car. Puffy eyes and a red nose told her Carol had been crying.

“What's wrong,” Joanna asked as she approached Carol's rolled down window. “Did something happen to Kari? She seemed fine at school today.”

“It's not her, it's me. My plan to get Ransom back has backfired. He's really mad that I put his business out there, about him and Gwen.”

“Well, it's the truth! He is doing her. Why is he so mad about that?”

Carol's face contorted as crocodile tears ran down her cheeks. “I want him so badly. He's a perfect man for me and father figure for Kari. What am I gonna do?” A loud boohoo punctuated the question.

“Well, you're gonna stop crying for one thing,” Joanna said, in a rare moment appearing the older of the two. “Come inside so you can pull yourself together.”

Joanna and Carol were silent as they walked up the steps and Joanna unlocked the door to her condo. But as soon as they were inside, Carol started in again. “What about your plan to make her leave the school? And what about Adam?”

“What about Adam?” Joanna retorted quickly.

“I mean, well, isn't he mad at her too?”

Joanna plopped down on the couch and took off her shoes. “Yeah, and I don't know why, to tell you the truth. He's already been with the whore, so why does he care that his brother is doing her now? Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Never mind. Adam doesn't want her. He told me.”

“That's what he said. But how can you be so sure that they aren't still screwing? You're the one who saw them coming back from some rendezvous when she first got here, going at it all hot and heavy in the parking lot. And you watched him check her out in the gym that day. That doesn't sound like the behavior of two people who were screwing twenty years ago. It sounds like what people do who are screwing now.”

“But why would she want him if she's dating Ransom?”

“I don't know and I don't care, and you shouldn't either. Did you do like we talked about, try to become friends so you can find out what's going on?”

“Really, Carol, Gwen isn't stupid. Why would the very person who couldn't stand her one day be cozying up to her the next? If you're depending on my befriending her for info, I wouldn't count on finding out too much.”

Carol angrily wiped the last tears from her eyes, lowered her voice, and looked straight at Joanna. “I will do anything to get Ransom back. Do you hear me? Anything. I ain't never gonna run across anybody like him again.” Carol repeated her declaration, this time softly, to herself: “Anything.”

Ransom looked around quickly before giving Gwen a kiss on the lips.

“Will you stop that?” Gwen looked around too, but satisfied that no one was near her classroom and Isis was enthralled in
Kuchekesha Island
, the children's book Gwen had bought her over the weekend, Gwen continued the kiss, opening her mouth to invite his tongue, before pulling back and wiping her lipstick off his mouth.

“Do you have to go into LA today?”

“I'm going to get you for that,” Ransom whispered. He tweaked her nipple through the knit top she wore. “I think so,” he said after he'd straightened up and put some much needed distance between him and his woman. Even though they made ardent love almost every night, he couldn't seem to get enough of Gwen. “I was hoping my foreman could handle everything, but these small business owners seem to like having me around.”

“That's because you're the man,” Gwen said.

“I guess,” Ransom responded, while beaming under Gwen's praise.

“I was thinking that maybe I could meet you there,” Gwen continued. “In LA. I could bring Isis and maybe we could spend the night there.”

“That sounds like a plan, B-fly. I'll call you later and let you know how things are looking on the job.”

Ransom walked over and kissed his daughter, then headed toward the door. He almost ran into Joanna, who came in at the same time.

“Oh, sorry,” Joanna said to Gwen while staring at Ransom as if he were the Second Coming.
My goodness, I forgot how absolutely gorgeous you are!
“I didn't know you were…busy.”

“It's okay,” Gwen said to Joanna. “See you later, Ransom.”

Gwen knew that loving Ransom definitely made it easier to deal with Joanna and Adam, who were still trying to work her last nerve, in and out of the classroom. She looked at her watch and frowned slightly. Some of her other early kids should have arrived by now. Gwen walked to her desk, sat down, and addressed Joanna. “You needed to talk to me?”

“Uh, yeah,” Joanna began nervously. She looked over at Isis. “I was hoping we could talk privately.”

“Well, that obviously isn't going to happen since we're in my classroom where about twenty other students will be joining the one already here any minute now.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll make a long story short.” She walked closer to Gwen's desk and spoke in a low tone. “I've been a total jerk since you've been here, and want to say I'm sorry. We got along so great that first time I saw you, when you came for the interview, remember? It's just that, well, I've been dealing with some financial problems and personal stuff that I'm sure you're not interested in hearing. I just haven't been myself.” Joanna's voice dropped even lower. “I didn't want to make you adopt my lesson plans,” she lied. “That was Adam's idea.”
After I suggested it
, she thought. “You're a great teacher, Gwen. I could learn a thing or two from you.”

Of all the things Gwen guessed could have come out of Joanna's mouth, a compliment wasn't one of them. Someone could have knocked her over with a feather. Surprise was her first reaction. Suspicion was her second.

“This sure is a change in tone and attitude,” Gwen said. “What brought it on?”

The sound of tiny feet walking into the classroom told Gwen she'd have to wait for the answer.

“I have to get back to my room,” Joanna said. “Hopefully we can talk later, maybe at lunch.” With that Joanna hurried out.

Gwen's day was so busy that it was late afternoon before she gave the strange conversation with Joanna a second thought. Aside from the regular activities that were more than enough to handle on any given day, little Patrick had gotten food poisoning and thrown up in the classroom, Tianna cut her foot on a piece of glass at recess, and Kari hit a second grader for calling her a butt head.

The mother of the second grader, who in Gwen's opinion was the epitome of an anal cranial, had demanded a meeting with the principal and “those teachers on the playground who'd failed to keep her child safe.” Gwen had patiently explained that “children fight,” and that the woman's daughter had instigated the situation by name calling. The mother had then threatened a lawsuit, which in California was like ordering a latte—an everyday occurrence. Not even Adam's lick-licking flirtations could calm the woman down, and finally an officer was called in to take affidavits. From a six- and seven-year-old! By the time it was all over, Gwen wanted to hit the mother and give the police a genuine reason to be there.

This drama happened after Ransom called, said he would finish earlier than expected, and for them to meet him in Los Angeles as soon as she could. She decided that there were obviously some forces at work trying to hamper this endeavor. But now, at four-thirty, she was finally going home. Thankfully, Miss Mary had come to the school and picked up Isis, saving the child from a nine-hour school day. Now all Gwen needed to do was go home, take a quick shower, pack an overnight bag, pick up Isis from Miss Mary's, swing by Ransom's house for his and Isis's overnight bag—oh—and get to LA “as soon as she could.”

“No problem, Ransom, piece of cake,” Gwen said sarcastically, as she listened to the traffic report announce a multicar pile-up on the 14 Freeway. “Just great!” Gwen turned off the radio and put in a CD, thinking that Barry White could help her get in a better mood for the weekend by admonishing her to practice what she preached.

Gwen showered and had her bag packed in twenty minutes. She retrieved Isis from Miss Mary's and they headed over to the Blake residence. It took ten minutes to get to their home and another fifteen minutes to get overnight clothes for Ransom and Isis. The two women had fun going through Ransom's closet and deciding on the perfect outfit for him to wear to Universal Studios, the outing Isis insisted they take since she hadn't been with them the last time.

“If we hurry,” Gwen said as they placed clothes in Isis's Frog Princess backpack, “we can stop and get fries and chocolate shakes to eat on the road.”

“Yay!” Isis exclaimed, pushing her sandals into the bag and zipping it with a flourish. “I'll race you to the door!”

Isis grabbed the backpack and was out of the bedroom in a flash. Gwen chased behind her, laughing at Isis's determination to win. “I won, I won,” Isis chirped. She fumbled with the key on the deadbolt lock to the front door.

“You sure did,” Gwen agreed, as she waited for the door to be unlocked. “You're a fast runner, Isis. Maybe you'll be a sprinter when you grow up.”

“What's a splinter?”

Gwen laughed and reached for Isis's hand as she opened the door. “A sprinter,” she began, emphasizing the
r
, “is a person who…Oh, excuse me.” Gwen was startled by the woman standing on the other side of the door. “May I help you?”

“Yeah, you can help me,” the woman replied with a great deal of attitude. “And you can start by taking your hands off my daughter.”

The venom in Brea's tone surprised Gwen. Of course she knew the woman was Brea. Ransom hadn't lied when he'd said she was drop-dead gorgeous on the outside but that that attribute didn't carry over to her personality. Gwen was prepared to retort in kind until she became aware of Isis, wide-eyed, frightened, and clinging to her hand like a lifeline.

“Hello, Brea,” Gwen said calmly. “I'm Gwen.”

“I don't care who you are. I came here for my child. Come here, Isis.” She spoke to Isis in a softer tone, and even managed a smile. “Come to Mama. I've got a surprise for you in the car. Come on, now.”

Isis moved closer to Gwen. “I don't know you,” she said softly.

Brea reached into her Monogram Motard Louis Vuitton and pulled out a framed picture. She knelt down and showed it to Isis. “Do you know who this is?”

Isis shook her head no. If she moved any closer to Gwen, she'd be under her legs.

“It's you when you were almost three years old. And that's me. Remember when we took this picture? Remember this dress? You looked so pretty. But you're even prettier now.”

“I don't know you,” Isis repeated.

“Well, I'm your mama,” a quickly frustrated Brea said. She rose and glared at Gwen, looked her up and down as if she were spoiled meat. “You can consider yourself relieved of your babysitting duties tonight. I'll take my daughter.” She reached for Isis.

Gwen shifted her body, becoming a barrier between the child and Brea. “You'll do no such thing. It was inappropriate for you to show up unannounced, and thoughtless of you to think you could just knock on the door and take a child you haven't seen in over three years. I'm sure you don't want to make a scene, especially in front of Isis. So if you'll just give me a number where Ransom can reach you, I'll make sure he gets it. I'm sure he'll call.”

“Bitch, I don't need you to get a message to Ransom for me. And I don't need you to tell me what's inappropriate neither. You look old enough to be Ransom's mother, but you sure as hell ain't mine!”

The insult stung, but Gwen was more concerned about protecting Isis than assuaging her hurt and anger. While keeping herself between Isis and Brea, Gwen locked the door, and then stepped around Brea and off the porch to the walkway leading to the sidewalk.

“Go ahead and walk your scrawny ass away if you want to,” Brea huffed. “But Brea's back in town, bitch. Your little
mommy/wifey
acting role is about to come to an end…believe that.”