When the Fairytale Ends (12 page)

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Authors: Dwan Abrams

BOOK: When the Fairytale Ends
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Ten
“Man, I'ma marry her.”
Greg almost laughed into the phone. “Frank, you just met this girl like what, two days ago? How are you already talking about marriage?”
“All I know is this, man . . . we click. We click on a whole 'nother level. Okay, so you already know she likes vintage cars, right? That car you saw her with at the gas station, that's the only vintage car she owns. So you know I took her to my bat cave and showed her my collection. Man, G, this chick is the only female I've ever showed my collection to, and she was just as excited about it as me! Do you know how that feels?”
“No, I don't,” Greg replied truthfully, because though he could appreciate a nice-looking throwback, he didn't have the passion for collecting cars like his dear friend. “It must feel pretty good.”
“Greg, listen, man, that ain't even it.”
Greg lowered the job search screen on the computer so he could give his full attention to the conversation. “Tell me the rest, Frank.”
“You really want the rest?”
“I want the rest, Frank,” he assured him.
“I mean, do you
really
want the rest?”
Greg rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. Franklin wouldn't be Franklin if he wasn't over the top, theatrical. “Bro, if you don't shut up and just say it.”
“Man, she rides bikes too!”
“Word?” Greg smiled. He always liked to see a woman on a bike. To him, it said something about her character, that she wasn't afraid to step out and do something that was considered risqué or out of the box. “Did y'all go riding together yet?”
“Did we?” Franklin laughed into the phone. “Dude, we went riding that same day that she got that flat. She met me at the park, and we rode all over Alpharetta. Rode our bikes until the sun came up. I'm dead serious.”
This time, Greg chuckled and nodded his head. “Let me find out that my man done tripped and fallen into a puddle of love.”
“I'm drowning in it, man,” Franklin admitted. “And I like how it feels. I'm gonna marry this girl. That's my wife right there. Her name's Kaiya.”
“I know her name.”
“Huh?” Franklin smacked his lips into the phone and Greg could imagine him rolling his eyes. “Please don't tell me this is one of the chicks you used to bone before God delivered you.”
Greg held his side and laughed. “No, Frank, I never ‘boned' her.” He laughed again. “But look, you two are just getting to know each other, so I don't want to ruin the surprise. Take her out to a nice restaurant and ask her about her past. You might be shocked what you learn.”
“Shocked like in a good way, or shocked in a bad way?”
“Bye, Frank. You're interrupting my job hunt.”
“How's that coming along for you?”
“Slowly but surely.” He considered telling Franklin that he was thinking about starting his own company but decided to wait until he had made a more concrete decision.
“A'ight, my man. I'll holla at you later.”
Still smiling, Greg ended the call and pushed the phone aside. No matter the trials and tribulations he was going through in life, he was happy for his friend. If anyone deserved a good woman who he could mesh with in life, Franklin was definitely deserving of one.
Greg took in a deep breath, pulled up his job hunt screen, and flipped to a fresh sheet of paper on his notepad. He spent the rest of the morning online applying to jobs posted on popular job sites. He figured that if he treated his job search like a full-time job, he should be able to land a job in a reasonable amount of time. He then wondered what “reasonable” meant. One week? Two weeks? A month? Six months? What was reasonable?
Feeling frustrated, he got on the phone and called friends, colleagues, and even former clients who he thought could help with his job search. He put out feelers first to see who was in a position to either hire him or refer him to someone who could. He wrote down names, telephone numbers, and e-mail addresses of every referral. By the time he finished making phone calls, his mind felt like it had been on a treadmill.
He then looked down at his notepad and had a nagging feeling that he should seriously check into starting his own company. He wrote down: “Classic car restoration and accessories shop.” He searched online for a market research company, placed a phone call to them, and provided them with all the information they needed to begin doing a market analysis for him. They even scheduled a follow-up conference call. Then he called a guy at his church and asked for his help with writing a business plan and applying for a business loan. He knew the guy at church could do it for a reasonable cost. At least that way it would be done right.
He wanted to get a small business loan so that he'd have a line of credit available, even if he didn't use it all. As a business major, he learned in college that most businesses failed during the first five years due to lack of resources and working capital.
He smiled at the fact that he had taken the first steps toward becoming an entrepreneur and decided to take a break. So, he left his home office and went to check on Shania. He found her in the basement, sliding a pan in the oven.
When she saw him, she wiped her hands on her apron. “I didn't think I'd see you at all today with the way you've been cooped up in your office.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Been looking for a job.”
She gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. “How'd it go?”
“Got some leads that I plan to follow up on.”
She held his hands and looked him in the eyes. “I spoke with my travel agent today, and she found a good deal on a trip to Jamaica.”
He stepped back; his brows knitted together. He wondered if he had heard her correctly. He tried to wrap his brain around why Shania would want to take a trip when the rug had been pulled from under him. Did she really think he'd be in the mood to sit on the beach, sipping piña coladas, when he didn't have a job and didn't know how long his savings would last? Was she in la-la land?
A part of him felt like Shania didn't have a clue sometimes. Instead of harping in on her like he initially wanted to, he kept a cool demeanor. His wife and he both had been a little testy since they bumped heads at church, and he didn't like it. He knew that he was partly to blame for being consumed with the brown-eyed woman at church and Mother Washington. He couldn't even explain his behavior other than the fact that his gut kept telling him that something was wrong.
He was ready to squash this tension in their relationship and go back to those blissful honeymoon days, where their biggest confrontation was whether they wanted sausage or bacon for breakfast, or whether they wanted to light vanilla-or apple-pie-scented candles.
“Jamaica sounds great, babe. But I don't think this is the right time for a vacation,” he said, trying his best to remain calm. “What're you cooking? Smells pretty good.”
“Will you let me explain before you shoot it down?” She followed him to the oven. “This would be the perfect time for us to get away, because you don't have any work obligations right now. You could use the time to get clarity about your career options and your future. Sometimes if you remove yourself from the situation, you get a clearer picture, and you realize that your circumstances aren't as bleak as you originally thought.” She dropped her hands to her sides.
He allowed her words to sink in, and he had to admit that what she said made sense. A sweet, cinnamon scent captured his attention, and he looked toward the oven again.
Shania sighed and smacked her lips. “They're sweet rolls. Want one? I think they make pretty good finger food.”
Shania left him standing there while she removed the sticky rolls from the oven and placed them on the counter to let them cool. His mouth watered as he looked on, watching the glazed walnuts slide down the sides of the rolls.
He walked up behind her, held her hips and placed a kiss behind her ear before reaching around her for a roll. She slapped his hand hard and he pulled away, shaking his stinging hand and frowning at her.
“What was that for? I thought you said I could have one.”
“You can . . .” she said, sliding the spatula beneath one of the rolls and holding it near his nose. He inhaled and could literally taste the buttery, gooey treat on his tongue. “If you say yes to Jamaica.”
He chuckled and squeezed her waist. “Oh, so you're bribing me? With a sweet roll?”
“They're decadent,” she said, sliding the roll back and forth beneath his nose. “Melt in your mouth good.”
“Okay,” he gave in and took the roll off the spatula. “A getaway just might be what I need.” He bit down into the hot roll and moaned while he chewed. Buttery, sweet, just the right amount of cinnamon. It felt so warm and smooth going down his throat. No wonder these people paid so much money for her food. This woman knew exactly what she was doing.
She waited until he finished chewing, then said with a triumphant smile, “So that's a yes?”
She offered him a napkin but Greg shook his head and licked each finger clean. “Girl, you stuck your foot in these rolls.” He sucked his thumb clean, then shook his head again. “But I still don't think a vacation right now is a good idea. Who knows how long it will take me to find a job?”
The frown on her face hurt his heart, and he reached out for her, but she moved away from him.
“Shania, babe, don't be like that. You know what I'm saying makes a lot of sense.”
“No, it doesn't,” she whined, then straightened her back and leaned against the counter. “I want you to know that I have every confidence you'll find another job. But if it doesn't happen right away, please don't stress yourself out about it. It's not the end of the world, Greg. We have enough money to last us—”
“No,
you
have enough money to last—”
“What's mine is yours, Greg.” Her voice rose. “It happened the day we said ‘I do.'”
Greg glared at her. “Do you really have to yell at me like that?”
“I didn't mean to raise my voice, honey. It's just . . .” Shania threw her spatula on the counter. “I don't get it. I don't get you. You go to church every Sunday and minister to all these young people, teaching them about faith, but when the time comes for you to tap into your own faith, you seem so hopeless.”
Greg worked his jaw while he stared at her confused expression. He knew he shouldn't have come down there. He should've just stayed in his office, kept searching for a job, or he should've jumped on his bike and took a relieving ride. One thing he didn't come down there for was another argument. He felt like they had left the door to their relationship cracked open to the devil, and he had come storming in, wreaking havoc every chance he got. Why he thought Shania would actually understand, he had no idea. Yet and still, he decided to give it one more shot.
“Shania, you know I love you, so please don't take this the wrong way.” He sighed and stepped closer to her. “You already have enough money to last you a lifetime. Even if your business didn't bring you another red cent, you'd still be okay. You wouldn't have to get an outside job.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Your house and car are paid for. And you don't have any real credit card debt.”
“
Our
house and car,” she corrected him softly. He gave her an exasperated stare, and she sucked in her bottom lip.
“Please, babe. Please. Listen to me.”
She nodded her head.
He patted his chest. “Baby, I'm a man. I could never live off you. No matter how much money you have, that's
your
money. I have to feel like I'm contributing and pulling my weight. Without a job, I don't see how I'm doing that.”
She removed the lid from the container of icing made from powdered sugar and drizzled the rolls. “I hear you, and I respect that. It's true that the person who earns the most money usually controls the relationship.” She glanced at him. “But that's not true for us. First of all, the only reason I have more savings than you is because of an inheritance, not because of my labor. And when it comes to our earnings, after my business expenses, our take-home pay is about the same. Plus, you're a homeowner too. In fact, you have a leg up on me because your property is actually making money.”
“I wasn't saying all that to make it seem like we're in some sort of a competition. This isn't tit for tat.” He sounded sincere. “I wanted you to understand why it's so important to me to find another job as quickly as possible. I was just pointing out the facts.”
“So was I.” She used a spatula to lift up a warm roll from the baking pan and picked it up. She walked over to him. “Open.”
He opened his mouth and took a bite. The first roll was delicious, but with the icing, the gooey treat practically melted in his mouth. After he finished chewing, he licked the icing off his lips. “What are you trying to do, fatten me up?”

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