“Yes, you can.” I reach out and take her hand in mine. “You can, and you will. I’ll switch my night off from Tuesday to Wednesday and I’ll take care of Dre that night. There’s one problem solved.”
“It’s not just that, though,” she says sadly.
“I’ve been making great tips lately and I’ve got some extra money put away. I’ll buy Dre a coat and help more with the bills.”
Tears overflow Anita’s eyes. “Why would you do any of this? I haven’t even been nice to you.”
“Girl, you ain’t got time to be nice to me. You’re a working single mom going to law school. Law school, Anita. You’re gonna be an attorney, making a difference in people’s lives. What kind of law do you plan to practice?”
“My dream is to work at the Southern Poverty Law Center.”
I take her other hand and squeeze both of hers in mine. “Listen to me. That would be a dream for me, but for you, it’s a goal. You can do this. We’re getting you through law school. I’ll help with laundry and cooking and Dre. You just need to tell me what you need, okay?”
Anita pulls her hands from mine, covering her face as she weeps.
“Mia, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think there was any way…”
“We can do this,” I tell her.
“My own family won’t help me like you are.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around her in a hug. “You took me in when I needed a place desperately. You trusted me and gave me a place to live. I owe you.”
“You pay your way and you know it.”
I laugh and hug her tighter. “You’re just a little stubborn, you know that? You remind me of my grandma.”
Anita laughs. Just a bit, but it’s a laugh. And I think it’s the first one I’ve ever heard from her.
“Thank you, Mia.” Her voice cracks with emotion, and I almost lose it.
“I want a ticket to your law school graduation,” I say. “Dre and I will be there. You think about that as you grind out this last year, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll make some dinner before I go to work,” I say. “Dre can come to the store with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely sure.”
Anita looks a little bit lighter as she washes the dishes. I’m not sure who feels better—me or her. It feels really good to be needed, and to be helping someone who deserves it.
Guess I’ll be putting on more pots of invisible tea.
That evening, I step out of my Uber and make it into the bar just as my shift is about to start.
“I was getting worried,” Janice says as I tie on my black bar apron. “You’re always early.”
“Yeah, I was busy today.”
Busy is an understatement. Dre wore my ass out today. It was fun, though. We played, walked to the store, took a forty-five minute nap, played some more and made dinner together. He’s a sweet boy who loves helping. Any form of attention lights him up.
I’m leaving my phone in the break room before my shift when I look down and see a text.
Anton: Hey, hope you’re good. No Uber tonight. I’m in town and will be there to get you at 2. And just so we’re clear, I’m not fucking you.
* * *
I smile, warming from head to toe. Wise or not, I’m definitely getting attached to Anton. Tucking my phone into my backpack, I head for the bar, a guy reaching out to grab my arm on the way.
“Hey, sexy! What kind of bourbon you got?”
I look down at my arm. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, just havin’some fun.” He rubs his crotch with his free hand.
I scowl and pull my arm away. “Go fuck yourself, dickhead.”
Fortunately, he’s my most obnoxious customer of the night. And one woman gives me a $20 tip on a $60 tab, which is great.
I’ve just returned from my break when I look over at the door, hoping to see Anton. He usually comes in for water around this time when he’s giving me a ride that night.
But instead, I see Adam, and a wave of nausea rolls through me. He looks back at me, unsmiling.
I can’t believe I ever thought he was attractive. His short black hair and intense dark eyes only look ominous to me now.
My stomach is in knots as Adam makes his way over to the bar. I have to steady my breathing as I pour drinks, reminding myself I’m safe here.
I think that’s why I feel so violated right now. Lucky Seven is my place. It’s part of my new life, without bad memories. Adam shouldn’t be here.
Dashing into Janice’s office, I ask if she can cover me.
“Sure, what’s wrong?” she asks as she gets up from her leather chair.
“Just…someone came in and I don’t want to make a scene.”
She nods and heads out to the bar for me. I approach Adam.
“What do you want?”
His gaze moves up and down my body. “I just came in for a drink.”
“Yeah, right. There are lots of places you can get a drink. Did you just want me to know you know where I work? Message received. You can go.”
“You always were a mouthy bitch.”
“Maybe you should divorce me.”
He narrows his eyes. “No one else would ever want you, Mia. I’m the only one who really knows you.”
I’m lightheaded as I wonder what Adam would say in front of all these people. Anything that humiliates me gives him pleasure.
“We can talk outside,” I say, leading the way out the front door.
As soon as he steps outside, I ask him again, “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to see my wife. You look like shit, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
He shifts on his feet. “I’ve about had it with this shit, Mia. You need to come home.”
“I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
His jaw tightens and I freeze, steadying myself for the onslaught I know is coming.
“You were nothing when I met you. Nothing. Just a Southside street rat without a penny to your name. I made you into what you are.”
“Clothes and manicures are just things. And Adam, you don’t want me anymore. You cheated on me—”
He leans in closer, and I instinctively step back. “I’m a professional athlete. I was blowing off steam. None of those women meant anything to me.”
“It’s not just the cheating. It’s everything. We’re better off apart, and you know it.”
He scoffs. “Fuck that. You’ve always been dependent on me and you still are. It’s gonna take more than a blow job to keep getting my money. You need to move back in and be the wife you agreed to be when we got married.”
“I don’t want—”
“You’re damaged goods, Mia. Second rate. No man wants a woman who can’t even give him children, and I’m willing to take you back. You should be on your fucking knees thanking me.”
“No. I told you a year ago I was done, and you just won’t listen.” I turn to open the door and Adam grabs my wrist.
“Let go.”
“Hey,” a guy in a group of college-aged guys walking into the bar says to me. “You okay?”
“I want to go inside,” I say to him, trying hard to keep my voice steady.
“You heard her,” the guy says to Adam. “Let go.”
Adam drops my hand and I hurry into the bar, practically running to the break room, where I cry for a good five minutes.
I feel dirty. Damaged. Deeply ashamed. Adam makes me hurt like no one ever has.
I’m not in a good state to see Anton. It’s a dangerous game I’ve been playing, texting with him and letting him drive me home. If Adam finds out, I suspect things will go from bad to worse.
I get my phone and type out a text to Anton.
Me: I have another ride home tonight, don’t come. Thanks anyway.
I wipe my face off then and go back to work, telling a man who asks what I’m doing later to fuck off.
It’s all an act, though. I’m not one
of those strong, take-no-shit kind of women. I’m a joke, barely even holding it together. Adam’s right—if Anton knew who I really was, he wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
Chapter Ten
Anton
* * *
Mia’s bare shoulder is soft and warm beneath my lips. She moans into my ear, sending a shockwave of arousal that hits every nerve ending in my body.
I’m so damn hard. I ache with frustration and desire for this woman. And even though I know this can’t be real, I let myself live out this dream, clinging to every shred my subconscious comes up with.
“Anton,” Mia says, her voice soft and distant. “I want you.”
I want to smell her, taste her, lay eyes on her perfect, naked skin, but the dream won’t give me any of those details. The thick weight between my thighs tells me this is enough, though.
“Anton! I need to take a piss!”
The dream ends abruptly when Uncle Dix summons me.
“Fuck,” I grumble. “I’m coming, okay?”
Not in the way I want, of course. My hard-on is the only part of the dream that was real, and I’d love to linger in bed and imagine the end of my dream, getting satisfaction the only way I have for almost three years now.
Instead, I have to start this day at 4:20 a.m. by helping my cranky uncle out of bed and into his wheelchair.
“Why don’t you just use the bedpan and go back to sleep?” I mumble.
His groan is dismissive. “Ah, fuck that thing. I can’t get my piss in there. I have to bend my dick over the edge and piss runs all over me. It’s not a damn garden hose.”
I exhale deeply. “Okay, no big deal. I was gonna get up at five anyway.”
I take him into my bathroom, pull his pants down and lower him onto the toilet seat, grabbing my toothbrush.
“Can you get the hell out, Anton?” he barks. “Give a man a little bit of privacy, would ya?”
“I shower with men every day; this is nothing. It’s not like I’m watching you piss.”
“Get the fuck out, sonny!” Uncle Dix waves toward the door with his good hand. “I can’t go with you right there. Go start some breakfast, or are you planning to starve me again today?”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and leave the bathroom.
“I didn’t starve you; I just refused to give you beer and pizza for dinner,” I say over my shoulder.
“That turkey burger smelled like you took a big shit on a plate!” Uncle Dix grouses. “It’s a hell of a note, treating an old man this way. Can’t even get a decent meal.”
I sigh heavily, knowing it’s a waste of time to argue with him. I pad into the kitchen in the darkness and reach for the coffee canister, just getting the lid off when he yells again.
“Anton! You just gonna leave me sitting on the pot ‘til I die in here?”
I’m gonna kill the old bastard. This new setup is stressing me the fuck out. Since Marjorie left, I’m taking care of Uncle Dix all the time when I’m home. I talked to the manager of my high-end apartment complex about getting some emergency help while I’m working until the nursing agency finds a new nurse. Doormen from my building are taking rotating shifts with Uncle Dix for me, and I’m paying them very well for it. They aren’t nurses, but all he really needs is a babysitter to keep him in line.
I get Uncle Dix from the bathroom, pull his pants back up and try to help him wash his hands, but as always, he refuses.
“My own germs aren’t gonna hurt me, you snowflake,” he snaps.
He’s unbearable. I don’t know how any of the nurses lasted as long as they did.
I get the lights on and settle him into his favorite recliner with the tablet he likes to use, then help him get his glasses on.
“The Comets lost again,” he says as I’m starting the coffeemaker in the kitchen. “Alexei better get his shit together.”
“They still have a good standing in the league,” I say.
My automatic response is always to defend my brother. I can call him on his bullshit, but I don’t like other people doing it.
“He needs to get his thumb out of his ass,” Uncle Dix says, disgusted.
“Why don’t you call him and talk to him about it?” I suggest. “He was just telling me he’s hurt that you never call him.”
“Alexei?” Uncle Dix sounds shocked.
“Yeah. Don’t tell him I told you, though, he’d be pissed. He said he loves the way you call it like you see it.”
“Huh. Guess I’ll call him later.”
I’m celebrating inside. Alexei didn’t really say that, but he deserves a nice long phone call with our uncle after what I’ve been dealing with. Uncle Dix will criticize his game, his life choices and even his hair in ten minutes or less.
“We’re having oatmeal with fruit today,” I say as I set a mug of coffee on the table beside his chair.
I found him a Yeti mug with a lid that has a slot to drink out of, because he sometimes spills coffee on himself.
“What the fuck is this?” he demands when he sees it. “A goddamned sippy cup?”
“It’s to help you not spill it, you grouchy bastard.”
He peers at me over the lenses of his glasses. “Anton, I already need help wiping my ass, now I can’t even drink coffee out of a normal goddamn coffee mug?”
“You want a regular mug?” I reach for the new cup. “I’ll get you one, but don’t come crying to me when you spill it.”
He gives me his trademark groan of disdain. “This one’s fine, just go make my breakfast.”
That’s as close as I’ll get to “thanks” from him. I go back to the kitchen and start the oatmeal, pulling up my workout for today on the tablet I keep on my kitchen counter.
It’s back and shoulders day. I’m looking forward to my workout more than usual. I’m very much about my routines, and taking care of Uncle Dix has thrown my sleeping schedule off kilter.
It was off kilter before, when I was picking up Mia on nights I was in town, but I had no regrets. Seeing her for a few minutes was worth giving up sleep. But I haven’t seen or spoken to her in almost two weeks, since she texted me and told me not to come that night.
I don’t want to ask the doormen to come cover me any more than I have to, and I’d feel guilty as fuck if I came home at almost 3:00 a.m. after taking Mia home. Then they’d know I was out doing something personal.
I miss her, though. Even though I didn’t spend a lot of time with her, I felt myself falling for her with every second. Making her smile lit me up in every way. I knew she was compassionate and gorgeous before, but now I know she’s so much more. She’s strong and savvy. Hard-working.
It stung when she told me not to pick her up that night. I was only trying to be a friend to her. I’m pretty sure I was her only one, too, and she still didn’t want me around.
She’s married. To my teammate. And those are both lines I can’t cross. Of all the women in the world I could burn night and day for, why Mia Marceau?
“Anton!” Uncle Dix yells. “I gotta take a shit!”
I shake my head, forced back into my new reality. I can’t fucking wait for the doorman to get here at 5:30.
On my way home from practice later in the morning, I can’t help changing my route home. I park across the street from Mia’s building, seeing it in the daylight for the first time.
I don’t even know which one she lives in, so it’s not like I can knock on the building door. And if she walks out, she’ll think I’m stalking her or something.
My urge to sit on the front steps and wait for her is strong. But I have to get back to Uncle Dix, so instead, I take out my phone and text her.
Me: I’m always here if you need me.
As I pull away from the curb, I can’t believe how much I want her to text me back.
I’ve got it bad for Mia. And though I can’t act on my feelings for her, they’re always present, coursing through my veins every minute of the day.
If only I’d met h
er before Adam did.
Chapter Eleven
Mia
* * *
There are big, fat snowflakes in the air on my walk to work on the first day of December. Even though it’s cold, there’s something very festive and pleasant about walking in the city with my fellow Chicagoans today.
Christmas is this month, and even though I have almost nothing, I’m looking forward to it more than I have since I was a kid. Helping Anita out is taking all my extra money, but I’m so damn happy. The tension has lifted in the apartment and now the two of us talk often. She and Dre are the closest people I’ve had to family besides my grandparents.
My nose is pretty much numb by the time I’m two miles into the walk. I ran out of credit on the Uber gift card, so I’m back to hoofing it every day. I miss the extra time I had in my days when I had a ride to and from work. It’s almost two hours both ways.
Walking’s not so bad, though. What I miss most is getting a ride home from Anton. Knowing he cared enough to stay up late and see me home safe was a nice feeling. One I’ve never gotten from a man before.
Anton’s very handsome; it’s impossible not to notice. But I never felt an attraction before because of Adam. Now, though, I find myself thinking about him often. He has a quiet way about him that I like. The stubble and longish dark blond hair seem out of character for him at first, but now that I know him a little better, I get it. He’s just not all that into his looks, which makes him that much more attractive. And those blue eyes…
I take a deep breath as I wait for the walk signal at an intersection, shaking off my thoughts of him. No point in daydreaming about someone, and something, I can’t have.
Adam’s visit to Lucky Seven a couple weeks ago shook me up. I know he didn’t just come to talk to me—he has my number. He was letting me know that he knows where I work, even though I never told him. That he can keep tabs on me anytime he wants to.
My grandfather told me hate is a waste of time. It eats away at the goodness inside us, he said. But I don’t know how else to describe the way I feel about Adam. He has me in a chokehold I don’t know how to find my way out of.
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