Sweet Little Lies (2 page)

I looked at him, mad as hell, wondering how this happened to me… again.

Steven took the last box off the dolly and turned toward
the door with understandable haste. I lived here, and I was ready to be somewhere else my damn self.

Jay /David reached for my hand, only for me to yank it back. He reached again, encircling my wrist and tightening enough to hurt.“Jay, that hurts.”

“Just listen to me for just one second.” Meeting his eyes at that moment, I realized that I had no idea who he really was, and that made me panic.

Hissing at him, I tugged again.“Let me go.”

He pulled me toward him roughly.“I just need you to listen.”

“Please stop, you’re scaring me and I want you to go.”

Steven stopped dead in his tracks on his way to the door. He let the cart handle clatter to the floor, turned, and stepped to Jay/David all in one fast motion. “Hey, man, I think you oughta do what the lady says and just go.”

Jay /David looked incredulous. I was a little stunned myself. But Steven took a no-nonsense posture. Chest out, legs planted firmly, slightly apart. Looking back and forth between them, I noted the contrasts.Where Jay /David was broad and thick, Steven was all taut lines and sleek muscles. Jay/David had about twenty-five more pounds on his frame, but Steven was about two inches taller.While Jay /David looked like he’d seen military combat, I’d lay odds Steven had seen street combat. Personally, in a dark alley, I wouldn’t have wanted to battle with either one of them.They stood staring each other down like Serengeti lions from an Animal Planet documentary. Too much testosterone in the room.

Jay /David’s nostrils flared and he snarled, “Punk, don’t make me—”

“What?” Steven asked, raising his chin and flexing one hand.

Yanking my wrist away, I stepped in between the men. “Fellas. Separate corners. Both of you can go.”With my back to Jay/David I mouthed the words to Steven:“Thank you.”

They moved apart from each other a step at a time. Jay / David picked up his keys from the table. Steven lifted the dolly handle off the floor where he’d left it.

“I’ll be back,” Jay/David said before storming out the back door.

Steven reached past me before handing me something. Looking down, I realized it was a Kleenex. I tilted my head and looked at him.“Why—”

“You’re crying.” His voice was soft and gentle. He exited my front door, closing it with a quiet click behind him.

Reaching up to touch my face, I realized it was true. I had tears streaming down my face and I hadn’t even known. “Thanks again,” I said belatedly to the empty room before sinking into my easy chair to cry in earnest.

“C
an you tell me how I got bamboozled into taking this trip?”Talking quietly into my phone, I rested my chin on my right hand while clutching my BlackBerry in the left. The view out the window from seat 6A on a red-eye flight bound from San Francisco to New York’s LaGuardia Airport was unremarkable. It was dark, partly cloudy, and the runway was still busy with the arrival and departure of planes. Really, my question was rhetorical, but Jackie, my best friend, would provide some sort of smart-ass answer.

“Grey Goose hangover, girl. I told you to put the bottle down, but you gotta do things the hard way.” Smart-ass answer, as expected. Jackie and Lynne, acting in true homegirl solidarity, came over to my house eight nights ago with the universal breakup kit—junk food, ice cream, a liter of Grey Goose, and the quintessential nineties Black Love DVD three-pack:
Love Jones
,
Soul Food
, and
Waiting to Exhale.
All it did was remind me that apparently I was destined to hold my breath a little while longer.

The fallout from the Jay /David pronouncement had been
swift and ugly. Locksmiths and threats of restraining orders were brought into play. Jay/ David did not go quietly. But go he did, once threatened with legal action and bodily harm.

My mother, the ever-dramatic Joanna Brinsley, went into a rant of epic proportions. (Not. Very. Helpful.) My father died when I was very young and my mother had never remarried.She was left financially comfortable but emotionally needy. I was the youngest of her three children and she tended to cling …far more than I liked. I had to dispatch my older brothers, Clarke and Collin, to talk her down—that was after I talked them out of hunting down Jay/David solely for the purpose of smashing his face in. (He would have destroyed both of their bougie behinds, but that’s neither here nor there).

Collin’s wife, Celia, was a pretty and perky perfectionist who believed in silver linings, rainbows, and unicorns. I wish I was kidding. When she showed up on my doorstep with a cupcake bouquet and chamomile tea, I sent her over to Mom’s as well. I wasn’t in the mood for rainbow-infused, it-will-all-work-out speeches. I kept the cupcakes though; turned out they went really well with vanilla vodka.A lot of vanilla vodka.

The next morning, Jackie and Lynne loaded me up with Ugandan premium roast (I had tossed the Guatemalan blend), and urged me out of the house so they could clear it of all things wedding related. While they called the seventy-five friends and family members with the news, I went to work. Somehow in the hour and a half I spent in my office at Valiant Publications, near the wharf in the Embarcadero area of San Francisco, I managed to volunteer to write a series on a new hip-hop label that was launching in midtown Manhattan, started by a California transplant.

So here I was over a week later, miserable and bone weary, on an all-night flight to New York.“Jackie, you couldn’t have stopped me?”Admittedly, I was beginning to whine a little bit. I was tired of being tired, as well.

“Buck up,
chica
. Maybe you’ll meet someone cute.”

I rolled my eyes. Cute guys were the last thing I needed. Guys of any sort were the last thing I needed right now. As a matter of fact, I was planning on taking a long-overdue man break and started to tell her as much.“Heaven forbid.The last thing I need is—” I stopped speaking as I watched the next passenger enter the plane.“It’s you!”

“It’s who?” Jackie’s voice was high-pitched and loud.

The delivery guy, witness to the latest worst moment in my life, had paused in row six. My row. His dreads weren’t tied back today but hung loose to his shoulders. Outside of the dull brown uniform, he had an air of self-confidence about him that I hadn’t noticed before. Checking his ticket, he looked from the seat to me and back again.“Ms. Brinsley.” He started stowing carry-ons and getting settled in.

“It’s who?” Jackie raised her voice as if I hadn’t heard her the first time. She was loud enough that he could hear… easily. He turned those pale green eyes on me and waited for my response.

“My delivery guy,” I answered, meeting his gaze. He pulled a book out of his laptop case. It was a murder mystery by an author I was familiar with and liked a lot. I had the same book on my bedside table at home. I pulled the phone away from my ear to find the volume control. Part of the Jay/David fallout involved me getting a new phone number. I had taken the opportunity to upgrade my phone and I had no idea how to work it.

“The yummy young guy? Hot bod, sexy eyes, Denzel smile?”Again, she was loud enough that he heard. I watched a slow smile spread from his lips, across his cheeks, and into his eyes. He smiled with his entire face.

I pressed what I really hoped was the VOLUME DOWN button and put the phone back to my ear. Jackie had a way of saying whatever she thought, regardless of who she embarrassed. “Jax, were you paying that close attention?”

“Weren’t you? You were engaged, not dead. That young
fella is the hotness. He could ring my doorbell anytime he wanted.”As I was saying, Jackie was a bit of an over-sharer. My cheeks reddened slightly, I frantically pressed the other button, trying to lower the volume, and closed my eyes.

“Jax, please.”

“What? Oh, is he right there? Hey, hottie! What’s he wearing? He looked good in the uniform, so I
know
he looks good out of it.” How was it possible that she got louder?

Keeping my eyes closed, I acknowledged that my life was never dull.“You know what? I’ll call you when I land. Okay?”

“Aw, girl, you need to loosen up. Life is short.”

“Shorter by the minute, Jax. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” When I opened my eyes, he was still watching me. He kinda
was
the hotness. He was a beautiful man. He was lean and cut, like a man in his prime and comfortable there. His hands were large, with long, almost graceful fingers. He wore jeans and a long-sleeve shirt well. He had that kind of frame that clothes complimented. His jeans hugged and creased in all the right places.

“Okay, girl. Hey—why don’t you get drunk on the plane and make an inappropriate proposition to Mr. Deliveryman? See what kind of package he’s working with. Getcha some rebound d—” I pressed and held the VOLUME DOWN button to cut off the rest of that sentence.

His brows shot up and his grin twisted a little as he held back the laughter that was twinkling in his eyes. His eyes were a hazel color that could look either green or brown depending on mood and lighting. Right now they were brown and amused.

“Girl, ’bye!” I cut her off and hit the END button before she could add any more detail to her X-rated suggestion. I made a production out of turning the phone off and tucking it away, buying myself some time before I had to actually speak. Finally, I looked at him and gave a weak smile.“So, out of all the
flights going to all the cities in the world, you appear on mine….”

He smiled at my variation of the line from
Casablanca.
“Here’s looking at you, Ms. Brinsley.”

A man who knew his Bogart movies? “Call me Christina.”

“Hey, Christina.” His voice had a warm, melodic tone.

“Hey, um—hey.” I cast around in my memory for his name. I knew it started with an
S
.

“Oh, okay—you’re
that
chick.”

“What chick?”

“The I’m-too-bougie-to-remember-service-personnel-names chick. That high-maintenance chick. You know the one.”

“I do not! I am not!” Like I needed the criticism right now? Delivery Guy was kinda nervy.

“So my name is—”

C’mon now, Christina, think! It was stitched right on the uniform.
The pep talk did not work and I was drawing a complete blank. He did not look amused. I was saved from admitting total ignorance by the arrival of the flight attendant.“Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Brinsley?”

“Bloody Mary, please.”
And quickly,
I wanted to add.

“Mr.Williams?”

“Water, no ice, please.” The flight attendant nodded and moved away.

We were sitting in stilted silence when suddenly it came to me.“Samuel, Scott, Stefan …no—Steven!”

He gave me a serious, tart side-eye. “Fourth time’s the charm.”

Well, sue me for not remembering. I’ve had a few damn things on my mind
. I was more irritated than the situation warranted, and that caused me to be abruptly rude. “What are you doing in first class, anyway?”

“Wow, you really
are
that chick.” Sliding a quick, disappointed
look my way, he popped open his book and shifted so his back was angled to me, in the classic I’m-ignoring-your-existence pose.

Inexplicably, I was intrigued. Irritation aside, I wondered, Who
is
this
guy?
Delivery guy two weeks ago, first-class urban-ite on his way to New York today? I sensed hidden depths. Jacked up as my life was as this point, I welcomed the diversion of a puzzle. And did I relate that he really was the hotness? I just wanted a little more information. “I’m really not that chick. Really. But the last time I saw you, you were in a brown uniform delivering packages to my front door. None of that screams ‘first-class traveler’—forgive me for stereotyping.”

“Forgiven.” He was gracious.

“So what takes you to New York?”

“Grad school.”

“Grad school?” Okay, I was still having trouble reconciling Delivery Dude and this guy as the same person.

He slapped his book closed.“Damn! A brother can’t be educated? You see a fella delivering packages and that’s all you see? No wonder your fiancé bailed.”

Oh no, he didn’t!
Ouch. Like salt-in-a-fresh-wound ouch. Now that was just uncalled-for. Okay, I was rude first, but that was a low blow.Without uttering a word, I opened my book and shifted toward the window. Averting my face, I reached down for my iPod.

“So I guess you don’t want to talk anymore? Conversation gets a little tough for you and you’re done?” His snarky sarcasm was of the advanced variety.

“You know what? I don’t really know you. I am not required to talk to you. Enjoy your flight. Have a nice life.” My tone indicated I was done.

“You know what? You may be gorgeous, but you are on that extra for real.” His tone wasn’t that warm anymore either.

“On that extra? Extra what? What does that even mean?” Damn youngsters today just made up phrases.

His eyes narrowed. “Means you are just a little bit more than what’s needed.”

“Is that right?”Again, like I needed character analysis from the delivery guy?

“From what I can see so far? Yeah. Extra.”

Now my eyes narrowed. “You know what? You may be fine, but your manners could use some work.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but the captain began delivering his take-off spiel. By the time the attendant did her emergency exit speech, we had settled into a hostile silence.

I
was giving old girl the side-eye as she downed her second Bloody Mary and started in on the red wine. Sure, I felt a little bad for that line about her ex, but it irked me that she couldn’t remember my name. I mean, c’mon now…I’ve been to her house every day for at least six months straight.

The first time she opened the door, I thought,
Okay, wow.
Little thing came to below my shoulder even in heels. Beautiful chocolate brown skin stretched over a tight little body. Girl was all legs, and gently curved where a woman should be. Classically beautiful face, oval shaped with big cocoa-colored eyes and a slightly upturned nose. Jet black straight hair falling past her shoulders. Lips worthy of a second glance, full on the bottom with a pouty bow on top. Her every emotion showed on her expressive face. I enjoyed our little exchanges and generally thought she was a woman who had it all going for her.

Witnessing the implosion of her engagement was as uncomfortable for me as it was painful for her. I had no experience with that kind of personal betrayal, so I couldn’t imagine what it would take to bounce back from that.

I didn’t know how to describe the general vibe of her, except to say she was the kind of girl you want to scoop up and protect …until she opened that pretty mouth today. Wow, lethal weapon. I watched as she leaned into the window, staring out into the inky sky. She glanced down at her hand, which up until a few days ago held a man’s promise to her. With a sigh, she balled her hand into a fist and closed her eyes.

I couldn’t help but feel for her.The urge to rush in and try to make it all better ran deep. But really, it was none of my business.

Just stay out of it, Steve,
I told myself. This girl had “high maintenance on the verge of a breakdown” stamped all over her. I ordered a scotch and sipped slowly. I had thoughts of my own to deal with.I had family back home depending on me to do well in school and well in life. I was the first of my family to even think of getting an advanced degree.A lot of sacrifices were made to get me where I was. I’d come way too far to let anybody down. I had no time or interest in distractions. I had the next ten years of my life planned out. Seeing Christina huddled over by the window reminded me of why romance was way down on my priority list. I couldn’t afford to hit a wall like the one she ran smack into. I took another sip and then another. By the time I finished the drink, I was in a much mellower frame of mind and empathized with her. I’m sure at one time she had her next ten years planned out as well. Surely, she hadn’t factored this in.The next time she shifted, I took the opportunity to speak.“So you think I’m fine, huh?” I kept my tone diplomatically light.

An unwilling smile circled the edges of her lovely mouth. “Did I use the word ‘fine’? I don’t recall saying that.”

“Good.That means you don’t recall any of the other less-than-polite stuff we said earlier. Apologies all around?” I tilted my cocktail glass toward hers as a conciliatory gesture. After a slight pause, she touched her glass to mine.

“Apologies all around. I’m really not at my best.”

After a few moments of companionable silence, I decided to address the pink elephant dancing around the first-class cabin.“You want to talk about it?”

“The wedding death?”

“Is that what you call it?”

She shrugged.“Seems accurate.”

“Okay …wanna talk about the wedding death?”

She shrugged again. “You are pretty much caught up. He said what he said, you did what you did, I said what I said, and that was that.”

“You haven’t heard from him since?” I caught her gaze and held it.

“We—my brothers and I—had some difficulty getting him to remove himself and his things from my house. From my life. But we prevailed in the end.”

“Did you have his ass kicked?” If ever a man deserved a foot in the ass, her ex did.

“We decided to skip the ass-kicking, but it was a thought. Still is, really.”

“Is he still calling?”

“I don’t know—new phone number, new phone.” She looked back at me unflinchingly.

I liked that about her. Even after the hellish week she’d had, she still looked a brother in the eye to let him know she was a little bent but not broken.“So what’s next for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what will you do to move on?”

“All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. My company, Valiant Publications, is a start-up, but we’re starting to create some buzz, so now seems like a good time to concentrate on my career.”

“Valiant?” I thought for a second.“They do online magazines?”

“Yeah,
Shades
and
Webinista 2.0
.”

“You’re a writer?”

Christina smiled.“Writer and editor, among other things. I wear a few hats. That’s why they pay me the medium-sized bucks. So what are you going back to school for?”

“Joint master’s and PhD program in transportation science.”

“From NYU?”

“Columbia.”

She raised her brows.“Am I being insulting if I say I’m impressed?”

I laughed.“No, you are allowed to be impressed.”

“So what exactly is transportation science?”

“Simplified, it’s the engineering behind moving people, energy, and things around.”

She nodded and smiled.“That’s really all delivery is then… transporting things from place A to place B. Hence the career, presumably to save up to go back to school?”

I nodded.“Exactly.”

“So will you be trying to design highways or subway systems?”

I found it refreshing to talk to a sister on an intellectual level. Not that ladies aren’t about their education…. I’ve just met one too many who would rather discuss the latest Drake video. If they asked about my ambitions, it was usually followed by not-so-subtle questions about how much paper I would stack in the long run.“I want to concentrate on energy-efficient, high-speed rail.”

“Wow. Statewide?”

“Nationwide.”

“Converting current systems to light-rail or staying with the old infrastructure?”

I kind of goggled at her. Usually when I started talking transportation science, people nodded politely and changed the subject quickly. She was genuinely interested.“It’s going to
depend on who underwrites the project. Generally, government wants to piggyback on what’s already there. Private-sector funding would allow for more flexibility of design.”

Christina smiled.“So now you seem surprised.”

“I am. It’s a rare treat to talk engineering with a sister.”

“Now who’s making assumptions?”

I put my hands up. “Guilty. You are clearly an articulate woman to be reckoned with.”

“Recognize!” she teased, before changing the subject. “What’s the in-flight movie?”

“Latest Bruce Willis action flick.”We shared an eye-roll.

“I have an old Spike Lee joint on my laptop if you care to watch?” she offered.

I raised a brow.“Why did I think you were more of a Tyler Perry girl?”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head.“Is this payback for me thinking you were a non-degreed delivery dude who couldn’t afford first class?”

I laughed. “Maybe a little bit. Okay—pact. No more assumptions.”

“Sold.” She opened her laptop, handed me a set of headphones, plugged in her own, and started the movie.