Playing the Hand You're Dealt (22 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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“And you must be Emily,” Uncle Ross said with a smile. He slid past Ed and took my hand into his. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you.”
“Likewise.” I nodded, wondering if the words of praise had come from Samantha or her father.
Uncle Ross ordered a round of celebratory drinks in honor of Samantha and me, and then a short time later, Ruben and Roger bid us good night with hugs and air-kisses for everyone except Ed and Uncle Ross, who both received handshakes. “See you at the party tomorrow night,” Ruben called out on their way to hail a cab.
As we sat at the bar laughing and talking, I was keenly aware of two things: Ed was completely sober and had not taken a sip of alcohol, and he was ignoring me on purpose. Beyond his initial greeting, he had not uttered another word to me or even looked in my direction, and I couldn't figure out why. Just the other day he practically seduced me with his stare, but tonight he barely had two words for me.
I grew annoyed, and my body filled with the same indignation I had experienced my first night in town when he failed to notice or mention my new hairdo. I wasn't one to brag about myself, but I looked hot tonight. Nearly every man in the restaurant had glanced my way, even Uncle Ross! And each time I went to the restroom I was handed a new business card to slip into my clutch on my way back. Men were salivating over me, but Ed merely looked at me as though I were wrapped in a burka.
I had told myself that I was going to move on, that I was going to do a little flirting tonight and maybe even set my sites on getting a date out of the evening. But now I was reduced back to the eighteen-year-old girl trying to free her heart from a coffin. I couldn't stay a minute longer without either exploding or crying. I looked at my watch and leaned over to Samantha. “I think I'm heading home.”
Samantha looked tired and ready to go, too. “Girl, I'm right behind you.” She yawned, checking her cell phone.
She'd been drinking her stress away in an attempt to forget about the threat that Carl had made earlier today. I watched as she scrolled through her phone, then a minute later she smiled, sensing my worry. “I'm good. No unknown calls,” she assured me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I just needed to get home so I could take a shower, lie down, and sort out my feelings.
“Daddy, can you and Uncle Ross give Emily and me a ride home?” Samantha asked.
What!
I couldn't be confined inside a moving vehicle with Ed. “That's okay, I can take a cab,” I said, hopping down from my bar stool.
Samantha shook her head. “Now, what kind of sense does that make? You're just a few blocks away from me, we can drop you off.”
I was quiet as I rode in the backseat with Samantha, who was slumped over with her head on my shoulder, half-asleep. She was tired from work, worn out from her move, but most of all, she was exhausted from dealing with the weight that Carl had put on her mind. After this weekend, and when Tyler was safely back in Atlanta, I planned to have another long and more serious talk with my friend.
We reached Samantha's condo first. Ed double-parked, then walked her to her door, making sure she was safely inside. I watched as he walked back to the truck, but then looked away when his eyes caught mine. I shifted against the soft leather seat. A few minutes longer and I'd be free.
Finally, we turned onto my street. Ed double-parked again and put on his flashers. “You don't have to walk me to the door, I'm fine,” I told him.
“Nonsense.”
I thanked Uncle Ross again for the birthday drinks and told him that I would see him at the party tomorrow night, then I held my breath and quietly walked to my door with Ed by my side.
“Emily, about tonight . . . I need to explain my actions.”
My alcohol-induced courage hijacked my sober mind. “You don't owe me any explanations. The only person you're accountable to for your actions is your wife.”
He looked at me like he was genuinely hurt. As much as I wanted to be angry with him and not give a second thought to his feelings, I couldn't deny mine, which were still centered around a long-held love. I lowered my head, embarrassed by the saltiness of my words. “I'm sorry.”
“No, I'm the one who's sorry.” Ed took a deep breath, rubbing his hand against his neck. “Let me explain . . .”
“It's okay, really.” The hot, muggy air, multiple margaritas, and hours of pent-up frustration all hit me like a tidal wave. It was one in the morning, and the only thing I wanted to do was lay my head on my pillow. “Good night, Ed. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I turned my key in the lock, about to push open the door when Ed stopped me. “Happy birthday, Emily.”
I smiled. “Actually, it's technically not my birthday until five fourteen.”
“So that's when it's official?”
I smiled again and nodded.
“Listen, about tonight,” he tried to continue again.
“Ed, I'm so tired I can't think straight, as you can see. Can we have this conversation later?”
He nodded. “Of course we can.”
Once I was inside, I looked through my peephole and watched Ed walk to his truck. I was exhausted from my pre-birthday celebration, so I dragged myself up my stairs and fell into bed—sexy dress, stilettos and all. I drifted off to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Chapter 20
Ed . . .
 
 
 
 
Sucker Punch!
 
“Y
ou got it bad, my man,” Ross told me.
We were sitting in my truck under the portico in front of Ross's hotel, talking about our long day and the tense moments that had just unfolded. More specifically, how those uncomfortable moments involved the beautiful passenger we had dropped off just five minutes ago.
“Yeah, you can say that again,” I agreed. I leaned back in my seat and thought about all that had transpired and led up to my encounter tonight with Emily.
After I picked up Ross from the airport earlier this afternoon, he checked into his hotel room before we zipped out for a quick round of golf. Other than women, golf was Ross's favorite pastime. While we shot holes, I revealed my true feelings for Emily. I had talked about her over the years, and he'd heard his fair share of Emily stories from Sam, but until now, I had never had the balls to completely admit the depths of my emotions for her.
“You're fucked,” Ross said as he pulled out his nine iron and eyed the ball. “If you go there with this girl, there's no good way to recover from it.You'll have so many women up your ass you won't be able to take a shit in peace.”
I frowned, listening to my friend as he continued. “First of all, Brenda will plot murder against you, maybe worse. Sam will definitely catch a case, and might even stop speaking to you for hookin' up with her best friend. And Emily . . . she'll want some kind of commitment. So you'll be jumping from one lockdown straight into another.”
“But that's the thing. Being with Emily won't be like lockdown, it'll be the freedom I've been waiting for.”
“You've been watching Oprah, haven't you?”
I hated to admit it, but Ross was right. I was in the middle of what had the potential of turning into a big mess. Still, I had to argue my point. “My marriage is a joke,” I said. “And to be perfectly honest, Brenda would care more about how our divorce would affect her social standing than the actual demise of our relationship.” Hearing myself admit that fact aloud was sobering, but it was true. “And I know that Sam is emotional and can be irrational at times, but she'll come around. Hell, she's made enough mistakes not to judge.”
“Man, I know you don't really believe what you just said,” Ross replied. “I'm with you on the Brenda thing, but baby girl, that's a different matter. It's one thing to tell Sam that you're screwing another woman and leaving her mother, which actually, I don't think she'd be too broken up over. But it's a whole other issue to tell her that you're doing it with her best friend.”
“It's not like Emily and I would be a one-night stand.”
“Ed, you're missing the point. What do you think it'll do to Sam and Emily's friendship? They're like you and me, they're like blood. And let me tell you, if you ever stepped to my mama,” Ross said, sounding repulsed as he shook his head. “Enough said.”
I simmered on Ross's words for the rest of the day and didn't bring up the subject again until hours later when we were eating dinner at Rosa Mexicano. I knew that Sam would be shocked and more than a little dismayed at the prospect of Emily and me together, but would she be so disappointed and angry that she'd stop speaking to me, and Emily as well? Then I thought about what Ross had said about me stepping to his mother. It made me cringe and forced me to ask myself the same question. If my mother were still alive, how would I feel if he became intimately involved with her?
The hard truth was that I would definitely have a problem. Ross has had more ass than a toilet seat, so I'd take issue if he became involved with anyone I cared about, let alone a relative. I loved him like a brother, but the truth was the truth. I, on the other hand, while not perfect, didn't qualify in the dog category like my man. I hoped my daughter knew me well enough to understand that I wouldn't become involved with Emily unless I was really serious. It wouldn't be some kind of fly-by-night fling.
“Ross,” I said, wanting to drive my point home and solidly win my case. “Once Sam realizes that I have genuine feelings for Emily, she'll understand.We've always had a great relationship and we can talk about anything. I know it'll be awkward at first, but she'll come around.”
Ross chewed slowly, thinking over what I'd just said. “Okay, let's take Sam, and for that matter, Brenda, too, completely off the table. Let's just deal with Emily.”
I nodded, knowing that he was getting ready to hit me with a new angle. “All right.”
“Going strictly by what you've told me, you and Emily have never had a conversation about how you feel about each other, right?”
“Well, technically . . .”
“You've mutually confirmed and formally verbalized your feelings for each other, yes or no?”
“No,” I answered.
“Does Emily know that you're willing to leave your wife for her?”
“I'm sure she does . . .” I wanted to make my case for that point, but I didn't have any concrete evidence to back up my assertion. “Um, no,” I conceded.
“Can you say with complete certainty that Emily's willing to risk her friendship with Sam for a relationship with you?”
“No, I can't. But what's
complete?
Nothing in life is certain or guaranteed.”
Ross sat back in his seat, smiling as he eyed an attractive woman who had just walked by our table. “Can you say with
moderate
confidence that Emily's not seeing anyone right now?”
Sucker punch!
My mind flashed back to Bradley, and I wondered if Emily was still receiving his late-night phone calls. I didn't want to answer Ross's question, but I knew I had to. “No,” I finally said.
“So you're willing to risk everything for a maybe? For what you
feel?”
I was ready to launch a rebuttal when the expression on Ross's face changed.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm,”
he practically drooled.
There was only one thing that could elicit that kind of reaction from my friend—a woman. Ross sat forward in his seat, pressing his elbows to the table. “Man, you gotta check out the prime piece of real estate that just walked through the door.”
I was trying to confide in my best friend what I'd never revealed to anyone, and there he was, lusting over another piece of ass. I wanted to be incredulous, but I couldn't because after thirty-four years, I knew it was just Ross being Ross. “Man, focus,” I urged.
“Naw, man. Check her out,” he said, licking his lips as he nodded his head toward the front of the restaurant.
I stuffed a forkful of plantains into my mouth and indulged him by taking a quick look so we could get back to our conversation. I turned in my seat and nearly choked on my food when I saw Emily. She was nothing less than breathtaking, striking from head to toe. Her hair was pulled away from her face and rested down her back, further exposing the beautiful symmetry of forehead, eyes, nose, and cheekbones. Her tiny waist and voluptuously round hips were molded into a dress that showed off her Coke-bottle figure. And her thighs and calves looked succulent as she leaned on one leg, looking around the room as if she owned the place.
“It makes no sense for a woman to be that fine,” Ross declared, molesting Emily with his eyes.
“Man, that's
Emily.”
Ross coughed like he'd swallowed too fast. “You're shittin' me.”
Just then, Sam came walking up beside her. They nodded toward the waitress, then headed across the room.We watched them, as did every other man within gawking distance, while they sauntered over to the bar. Ross looked at me with serious concern. “Damn, man.You're fucked.”
From the moment I saw Emily I didn't touch another morsel on my plate. I watched like a stalker as man after man came up to her. I tensed as she ran the palm of her hand over her silky black hair and threw her head back as she smiled and accepted what I knew were well-deserved compliments from hopeful admirers. Sam was engrossed with Emily's neighbors, but Emily seemed to be enthralled with all the men coming her way. I had never seen her interact in a social setting, and it made me think about Ross's question. I honestly didn't know for sure if she was seeing anyone, or if she was
trying
to see anyone. After all, Sam had talked about introducing her to men.
The more I watched Emily, the angrier I became. I was heated and jealous. Just the other day she had acted as though she shared the same feelings that I did. But now she was parading around like a candidate for Match.com. Ross motioned toward the bar as he finished his dessert. “You want to head on over, partner?”
Once we arrived at the bar, Emily looked wide-eyed, like she'd been caught stealing money. I knew that look. I saw it all the time in the eyes of men and women alike when I tripped them up on the witness stand. Samantha gave me a hug, and then I introduced Ross to Emily's neighbors who were seated next to them. After a few minutes I started up a conversation with Emily, careful not to let my feelings show because we were in a public place. “Having a good time?” I asked.
“Yes, I am.”
I bet you are,
I thought. I couldn't help myself. I became mad all over again.
Damn, I'm too old for this shit!
I screamed inside my head. Then I realized that I wasn't upset with Emily, I was frustrated by how I had allowed myself to feel. It was the same emotion that had overcome me when I saw her head resting on Bradley's shoulder at her mother's funeral and when I walked into her house and saw him sitting on the floor beside her last weekend. It was a crippling combination of ego, insecurity, and my territorial male instincts kicking in. So I ignored her rather than deal with the real issue running through my mind—the thought of her with another man.
Now, as Ross and I sat in front of his hotel, I had to agree with my friend's earlier assessment. “You're absolutely correct, I'm fucked.”

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