“No way on the pie, mister,” Liv said, making her voice stern, but still playful. “These will all go to my parents for my father’s party tonight, as you very well know, since you’ll be meeting me there at seven.” Liv leaned in to Damon, looking up, giving him her version of her own sly grin as she ran a finger along his smooth, brown cheek. “But no worries. If you’re on your best behavior tonight, I have my own sweet treats in mind for you later.”
There was the slightest hint of tension that emanated from Damon then, along with the tiniest shift in his eyes. It was so slight that Liv convinced herself that it didn’t happen. That she didn’t see that small action she’d grown to know was Damon’s way of burying something he didn’t want to deal with in the moment. And just then she had her own feeling of apprehension. Liv swallowed and made her smile just a little brighter. Nope. It was nothing; she knew she was overreacting. Things were just a little tense, as they were bound to be in any relationship that had reached the nine-month point as theirs had, and the façade of putting on the best face was starting to wear down.
“Fine,” he said with a half grin. “None for me means none for you, too. Remember you promised you’d start working out with me anyway. We both don’t need the extra calories.”
Liv pushed down on her immediate feeling of embarrassment over his comment and let her eyes shift to the old clock above the windowsill. “You better get a move on, Damon. It’s starting to get late, and don’t you have that early breakfast meeting with new clients?”
Just as she thought, the idea of bringing up business pulled Damon up short and brought him into his usual sharp focus. A marketing analyst for an up-and-coming firm, Liv initially met Damon at one of those usually dull, corporate meet and greets where she was representing her firm as their strategic corporate analyst. One glimpse of Damon, though, and the night instantly brightened up. Sure, she knew he immediately pegged her as a potential business mark, but when he realized he wouldn’t be able to sell her on anything his firm had to offer, he switched tactics and went to selling her on himself.
Damon being Damon, he never let anything stand in the way of business. Leaning back, he flipped his wrist, checking the time on his watch that did so much more than just keep time. “Crap, you’re right.” Damon gave Liv a scowl. “Baby, you knew how important this morning was. Why are you letting me go on so that I’m late? You know how unpredictable the subways can be.”
And this is my fault? Liv thought. He was the one who came into her kitchen. Besides, a grown man should be able to tell the time. But Liv kept these thoughts to herself. No need to rock the boat and put him in a bad mood, possibly knocking him off his game when he had important business to take care of. She gave Damon a soft smile. “I guess I just couldn’t resist you. I’m sorry that you have to get going. I know you’re going to hit it out of the park today, as you always do. I’ll see you later tonight.”
But Damon was already reaching for his briefcase and heading for the door by the time Liv finished her sentence. All she got was a wave and the click of her apartment door behind him as a response. With a resigned breath, Liv checked the clock once again as she went to cover her pies to ready them for her pickup later in the evening. “I better get a move on myself. Shoot, he’s talking about me making him late, what about him making me late?” She gave her head a small shake, whipping off her vintage apron as she headed out of the kitchen. She slipped on her travel flats; grabbed her tote with her ready-for-business, red-bottomed pumps; and made her way for the subway to travel from Harlem, south to her midtown job.
* * *
Fired.
Walking back into her apartment late that afternoon, Liv kicked off the now-useless red-bottomed pumps that, in her haste to get out of the office, she’d forgotten to switch out before getting back on the subway. Fired. She’d never been fired before in her life. No, wait a minute, it wasn’t fired; she was being restructured, or so they said. As in restructured out of health care; into unemployment, if she was lucky; and into a land of severe anxiety and uncertainty. But no, not fired. Fired was way too explosive a word, nowadays reserved only for hashtags and ex–reality TV stars. Liv let out a wry snort as she stepped into her kitchen with aching bare feet and flung open her refrigerator door. Restructured. Talk about irony. That was so her word. She was the queen of restructuring and upending people’s lives in the process. It was she who had restructured Bailey and Wagner onto the Forbes list. Yeah, and in doing so it looks as if she had restructured her smart behind out of their fine mahogany-accented glass doors.
Liv sighed and reached for the fizzy cranberry orange concoction that Damon had picked up the other night. She opened the screw top and drank straight from the bottle. So not her, but in times like this, even reaching for a glass felt like an effort. But, after downing half the bottle, she still wasn’t satisfied. In that moment, all she wanted to do was open a bottle of wine—no, better yet, a pint of ice cream—crawl into her bed, and drown her sorrows in a little Rocky Road. Unfortunately, though, Liv looked over toward the top of her stove. There would be no relaxing, ice cream, wallowing, or any such thing—at least not for the next few hours—since she still had pies to pack up and her father’s retirement dinner to attend.
It’s so odd, she thought as she packed up her pies. She still hadn’t heard back from Damon. He hadn’t returned any of her calls that afternoon. She assumed his day must be pretty busy, because if he’d had any clue what she was going through he’d surely have gotten back to her. She’d been trying to reach him ever since she’d heard the dismal news, but it seems he was all tied up. She knew he’d be just as surprised as she was. No matter, Liv thought when telling Damon came to her mind. Damon was smart, and he knew so many people in the business that she was sure with him guiding her in the right direction she’d find a new position in no time. Who knew, maybe she wouldn’t even have to tell her parents about being restructured at all. No use worrying them, not when they were so happy about finally being able to take their long-awaited retirement dream vacation.
Feeling slightly more bolstered, at least enough to get through the evening, Liv suddenly couldn’t wait to take off her gray, corporate linen skirt and silk blouse. Once I get out of my “restructured” suit and more party ready, I’ll be fine, Liv told herself as she hit her bedroom door, then froze.
First fired and now robbed? Freaking crap on toast, could this day get any worse?
Turning a quick circle in her bedroom, Liv fought to calm the rapid thumping of her heart. The closet was flung wide open, and hangers were haphazardly strewn on the floor. Some drawers were opened and emptied, and her brand-new television was gone from on top of her dresser. An intense feeling of fear grabbed her as Liv wondered if the culprit could possibly still be in her apartment. She froze completely and listened for any sort of sound. Looking over at her bedroom window, Liv saw that it was still shut tight and didn’t look as if it had been disturbed. She didn’t remember seeing anything out of place in the living room. As she started quickly backtracking with a tight grip on her bag, grateful she hadn’t left it in the living room, she reached inside for her cell.
But before completely backing out, her mind couldn’t help its analysis. She glanced at the closet again. It looked as if all her clothes, from what she could see, were still there. But where were Damon’s shirts? The five white shirts he left at her apartment along with the two pairs of pants—one gray, one black—and the navy suit that she’d just picked up from the cleaners were gone. Shifting, her eyes went to the drawers; there were two open. The bottom two on the left. The ones that held the T-shirts and boxers that she had just folded the night before. And the bottom one that held Damon’s running outfits. Shifting again, her eyes went to the now-empty corner where Damon usually kept his favorite pair of running shoes. Dropping her bag, Liv let out a moan.
Today. Why today of all days would he decide to pull this?
She thought they were fine. At least he said they were fine. Liv gr
oaned again. And he was supposed to meet her at her parents tonight. So now what was she supposed to tell them? The silence of her apartment suddenly felt suffocating, and all Liv wanted to do was fill it. On instinct, she got up and reached over to the night table for the remote control before remembering, as her eyes shifted to the large, empty space where the TV should have been.
Going for her bag, she pulled out her cell and hit Damon’s number once again. This time he had the nerve to pick up.
“Really?” she said, fighting to keep any sense of her true frustration out of her voice. “I can understand you taking your own things, who cares about that? But what makes you think I’m going to let you get away with running off with my flat-screen TV?”
Damon’s voice was just as smooth as it had been that morning as it came across the air and reached Liv’s ears. But what should have been a caress to the senses now sounded akin to a dentist’s drill. “Your TV?” His attempt at feigning shock almost made Liv laugh. “If I recall, that television was a gift to me, so technically it’s mine. And I really didn’t consider you the type, Liv, who would renege on a gift.”
Liv pulled back and stared at the phone in her hand as if it had just turned into a pogo stick and she couldn’t understand the odd sounds coming out of it. This day seemed to come at her all at once, and she was well and truly, for the moment, dumbfounded. Shaking her head, she clicked off the phone without another word. She couldn’t deal with it. With him. Not now. Not when there was a calm, perfect daughter mask she had to put on. Tonight was supposed to be a night for celebrating. She wasn’t going to ruin it. Besides, her parents already had two other screwed-up adult children to worry about. They didn’t need to add their oldest to the list.
* * *
After a short cab ride, farther uptown with her pies, Liv used her old key and made her way into her parents’ modest, but now quite valuable, three-bedroom Harlem apartment. Using her foot to balance the door, she picked up her shopping bag, took a deep breath and made her way in.
“Hello. Ma, Daddy, it’s me,” she called out, half hoping she wouldn’t get an answer and this whole shindig was some other night so she wouldn’t have to deal with people and her jumble of emotions all at the same time. But she knew that was ridiculous. Of course it was tonight. The date had been firm for months, and she could smell the aroma of her mother’s collard greens practically before the elevator doors opened on their floor.
“I’m in the kitchen!” Her mother’s voice sounded light and bouncy, though Liv could detect the slight undertone of pre-party anxiety below the surface.
After closing the door and locking it behind herself, Liv made her way down the short foyer, passing the living room with its new matching suite of couch, love seat, and coffee table, not to mention the showstopper: the fabulous new recliner with the flip-out cup holders that was her father’s pride and joy. A joint retirement gift from Liv and her siblings, though to date both her brother and her sister still owed her most of their share for the chair. She shook her head and let out a sigh. What did it matter? Daddy was happy, and that was most important.
Turning a short corner, she looked into the long galley kitchen just in time to see her mother pulling a baked ham out of the oven. Really, a ham? She could have sworn there was some sort of rule about ham after Easter and before Fall. Glancing around, she could see that the counters were already full of food, not to mention every burner on the stovetop looked occupied. “Geez, Mom, think you’ve cooked enough food, or will we have to order out for reinforcements?” Liv said, teasingly.
Her mother, Anne Gale, gave her deep chestnut curls a shake as she slipped the pot holders off her hands and walked over to her daughter, leaning up to kiss her on her cheek. “Not today, Miss SmartyPants. There is way too much to be done for me to listen to you trying to be cute. I still need the buffet table put out, the bar set up, and all the food arranged and laid out.” She let out a long exhale and looked around as if searching for something. “And Lord knows where my good tablecloth is. I could’ve sworn it was in the front hall closet, but then again it’s been lent out to Lynn so often . . . she may still have it.” She leveled Liv with a conspiratorial stare. “You and I both know she’s not the best when it comes to returning things.”
Liv walked deeper into the kitchen and went to place her pies out on a small breakfast table near the window. “You’re way too nice, Ma. I don’t know why you continue to lend her all your things when you know she’s not good at giving them back.”
“I know, honey, but she’s still my friend and my neighbor, so you know how that goes.”
Liv had no answer for that. Her mother was her mother, and she just couldn’t help being the giving type. All her life she had done for others, be it for Liv or her two younger siblings, Alexandrea and Elijah, or in her capacity as a teacher for the past thirty years. And though she was now retired, she still volunteered as an after-school literacy specialist three times a week. Just then, she could feel her mom coming up behind her and knew she was checking out the pies. “If you’re finished assessing, care to share your thoughts?” Liv asked as her mother lifted the tops off the plastic pie covers.
Her mother gave her shoulders a warm squeeze. “Oh, sweetie, all these pies look delicious. You’ve outdone yourself. They will be absolutely perfect. I know everyone is going to go crazy for them. The cake I ordered is really just a cute extra. I hope your father gets a kick out of the photo I put on it.”
Liv raised a brow. “Oh, Mom, why did you do that? I hope you didn’t go too far with the photo cake. You know how Daddy is. He’s not one for surprises.”
Her mother got a wicked twinkle in her eye, and it did nothing to soothe Liv’s nerves. “Oh, I know, but this is all in good fun. And besides, he’s retired now. It’s time to shake things up a bit. It will be good for him to laugh and step out of his comfort zone.”
Liv shrugged. “If you say so, lady. That’s your husband. You’ll be the one dealing with the consequences.” She teased her mom, then looked around once more. “Speaking of, where is the retirement boy of the hour? As a matter of fact, where is everyone else? I know the guests won’t arrive for another forty-five minutes, but what about Drea and Elijah? Shouldn’t they be here helping out?”
To that her mother shook her head once again, and her eyes went toward the ceiling. “Oh, honey, please, there you go starting things. Your father will be back shortly. He was getting a little antsy about the party, you know how he is—not really one for fanfare, so he was bugging me by getting too underfoot—so I sent him out to the grocery store for some extra supplies. And as for your sister and brother”—she let out a breath—“Alexandrea should be here after she finishes a quick shift at the restaurant. Her boss called her in and asked her to cover for just a few hours because someone called out sick. And Elijah, well, he’ll get here when he gets here. You know how your brother is, always more intent on his studies than anything else.”
It took all she had for Liv to keep her comments behind her teeth. Yeah sure, Drea got called in for a quick shift. And just how quick would that shift be, she wondered. Was it long enough for her married boss to try to put the moves on her way-too-gullible younger sister? The thought of Drea being used by her jerk of a boss always sent Liv’s blood boiling. Though Drea steadily denied anything was going on, and that she was tough enough to handle her handsy boss, Liv didn’t believe it. All it took was one visit to the trendy SoHo eatery and a moment’s look at Drea’s boss in action, and she knew. The guy was up to no good.
And as for her perpetual college student younger brother, Elijah, well, he always conveniently found himself deep in his studies when it was time for any sort of hands-on work to be done. The day their very own Peter Pan finally grew up and took a little responsibility would be a great day indeed.
It was with that thought that not quite Peter Pan actually walked in. Tall and lanky with a surprisingly disarming smile, Elijah knew how to play to a room. It was with that smile that
he sailed in and took their mother into a tight hug. “I thought you said there was a party going on here tonight, Ma? You think you made enough food? I can polish off this ham myself,” he said as he stepped away from their mother and reached for one of her sweet potato biscuits.
“Now, Elijah, you know that food is for the guests. Don’t you go spoiling your appetite,” their mother said without any real censure to back it up.
Elijah paused mid-chew and gave his mother a grin. “As if one little biscuit could put me off my appetite for more of your food.” He looked around, his eyes finally landing on Liv for the first time as he waved his half-eaten biscuit in front of her face. “Hey, big sis, did you taste one of these? Mom really put her foot in it this time.”
Liv gave him a tight smile. “No, I’ll get mine with dinner. There is too much to be done right now for me to get into eating. And for you too,” she added.
Elijah gave her only an eye roll by way of a reply, which had Liv shaking her head while her mother let out a frustrated breath. “Okay, kids, don’t you two start in now. Yes, there is plenty to be done. Elijah, you go on in there and set up that buffet table for me. We don’t have a lot of time before the guests get here. Olivia, look in the hall closet and see if you can find the good tablecloth. Maybe I missed it. And if you don’t see it, go on ahead and use the backup one. It’ll just have to do.”
“Do you want me to run over to Ms. Lynn’s apartment and ask if she’s got it? I will if you don’t want to call.”
Her mother just shook her head. “No need. I don’t want to put her out. Besides, I’m pretty sure she does have it, and when she sees I’m using my backup cloth, hopefully that’ll spur her conscience on to give me back my own.”
Too Sweet to Be Good Page 25
