Wrong Way Renee

by Wynter Daniels

  “What did you get us? How does Santa get down the chimney?”

  “Do the elves make everything?”

  Gary Junior and Alyssa shot questions at Renee like automatic rifle fire. Little arms hugged her the moment she stepped out of her car at her parents’ house. Their eyes were as bright as their green and red outfits as they jumped and squirmed and squealed.

  “Merry Christmas, Alyssa. You too, Gary. You'll have to wait until morning to see what I got you.” She buttoned up her lips and refused to say another word.

  The kids disappeared inside the house in a split second.

  Char loaded shiny packages with huge bows into her husband’s arms and hung red foil gift bags from his fingers.

  “Merry Christmas.” Gary leaned his head toward Renee as best he could, loaded down with gifts and tried to kiss her cheek.

  She air kissed him back. “Merry Christmas, guys. Need some help?”

  “No thanks, Gary's got it.” Char closed the back door of the Expedition and walked toward the house, empty-handed. Typical Char.

  Renee rolled her eyes as she opened the hatch of her Jeep and pulled out two shopping bags full of gifts. Their mother used to call Char the delegator when they were growing up because she always managed to dole out her chores to someone else.

  Inside the house Renee followed her nose to the kitchen and found her father carefully placing marshmallows on top of a sweet potato casserole while her mother washed pots and utensils. He popped one in his mouth.

  Renee jumped right in and carried serving dishes into the dining room. Char gathered her children to wash their hands. It was as loud and crazy as every event there, a typical family Christmas.

  During dinner, Renee felt her mother's stare before she saw it. When she looked over the platter of pork roast, past a wine goblet of eggnog, her fear was confirmed. Elizabeth's gaze was trained upon her. “Yes, Mama. I'm feeling the vibes. What is it?”

  Her mother leaned back in her seat. “I was wondering how poor Toy is.”

  Renee pushed a blob of melted marshmallow off her sweet potato. “She's okay. Her last divorce was rough, though. It took a toll on her.”

  Don't look at the ceiling or she'll know you're lying.

  That had been a dead giveaway when she was a child.

  “I ran into her mother last week at the grocery store. Victoria said Toy was doing great, dating, working. Is that not true, Renee?” Char asked.

  Elizabeth looked at Char. “Renee had to leave the firm Christmas party to comfort poor, poor Toy. Isn't that right, Renee?” She moved in for the kill. “At least that's what you told Cleave, hmm?”

  “You know, Mama, it really isn’t your business.” She sat ramrod straight in her seat and folded her arms, challenging her mother.

  Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. “I know you're not a big fan of pork roast, dear. So I got you something you're more comfortable with—bologna.”

  Luther shifted in his chair, his gaze darting from his wife to his daughter and back again. He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you two are talking about.”

  After a minute of uncomfortable silence, someone started another conversation and Renee finally relaxed a little.

  Making her excuses after all the dishes were done, she headed to Joe's father's house but she had trouble finding her way in the dark in an unfamiliar section of town. She took a wrong turn and ended up in a scary part of the city. Ramshackle buildings with shells of burned out cars adorned the landscape. She pulled over and called Joe's number.

  “Hey there. Where are you?” he asked. “We thought you'd be here by now.”

  She glanced up at the street sign in front of her. “I'm at Thirty-Sixth Street and Bel Aire Avenue. Do you know where that is?”

  “Oh God, how did you get there?” His voice was low and full of concern.

  “I don't know. I guess I took a wrong turn.”

  A loud bang on her car startled her, causing her to drop her phone. She looked around to find the source of the noise. A vagrant stood at the passenger window, his face pressed against the glass.

  Cold fear spread through her. She frantically groped around the floorboards for her phone. She could hear Joe's voice but hands shook as they patted the carpeting, feeling under her seat.

  “Renee? Renee, what's wrong? Renee?” Joe was yelling.

  She finally retrieved the phone. “Tell me how to get the hell out of here. There's a man banging on my car.”

  The whites of the man’s eyes appeared yellow under the dim street lamp. He wore a knit cap over his stringy, gray hair. His lips moved and she could hear him making some noises, but she couldn't tell what he was saying.

  “Drive. Drive now. Get away from him,” Joe ordered.

  “Okay. I'm going.” The moment she gave the car a little gas, the man stepped back and her heart finally slowed down.

  “Are you with me, honey?” Joe asked.

  “I'm here.” She was trembling but thankful she was okay.

  “Tell me where you are now.”

  “Thirty-Seventh Street.”

  “Take your next right onto Thirty-Eighth.” She could hear the worry in his tone as he talked her out of harm's way. His voice calmed her as she drove toward him, her safe haven.

  She arrived at his father's house ten minutes later, still on the phone with him. He was in the front yard, cell phone in hand, pacing.

  She hurried out of the car and dashed across the lawn to him, still shaking. He wrapped his strong arms around her, rubbing up and down her back, and everything was better. The warmth of his body eased the tension.

  “You're okay, babe. I'm here. I'll never let anything happen to you. You're fine.”

  Looking into his eyes, she saw his relief. His furrowed brow relaxed as he inspected her, making sure she was all right. In his arms, no harm would come to her. He kissed the top of her head, then rubbed her back as he led her inside.

  A heavyset man with white hair sat in a recliner chair in the living room. He stood when they came in. “Glad you're safe. Joe was beside himself. J. J. Morton. Nice to meet you, finally.” He offered his hand.

  She shook with him. “Thank you. Merry Christmas. I sure am glad to be here.”

  A middle-aged blonde woman came in holding a dishtowel. “Ah, you made it. You had us all worried.”

  “Sorry about that. Nice to meet you.”

  “Eloise. Pleasure's mine. Have a seat. Can I get you some eggnog? Coffee? Tea?”

  “A virgin eggnog would be great.” They didn’t seem put off by the fact that their son was dating a black woman. If she brought Joe to her family’s home, it would unfortunately be a very different story. She sat on the couch. Joe joined her, draping his arm around her shoulder protectively.

  Eloise returned with a glass of eggnog and set it down on an end table.

  “So, no harm done, right?” Joe squeezed her shoulder.

  “I'm a little shaken up, that's all. I'm sure the guy meant me no harm, but you never know.” She snuggled closer to him.

  “Always assume they mean you harm. Now, how about opening your gift.”

  Not him, too. “Joe, I thought we weren't doing that.”

  “We're not. I am.” He handed her a small gold package. She pulled off the gift wrap to reveal a velvet jewelry box.

  “I can't believe you.” She opened it to find an emerald and diamond tennis bracelet. “Joe. You shouldn't have. But I'm glad you did. It's beautiful. Thank you.” She kissed him. Realizing his father was staring at them, she pulled away, heat rushing to her cheeks.

  “Don't mind me,” J. J. said. “I love watching a pretty woman kiss my son.”

  Her face burned.

  “Dad. Don't embarrass her.” Joe's smile brightened his face, revealing the beginnings of crows' feet next to his eyes.

  “Here we are,” Eloise said from the adjacent dining room. “Pecan pie and apple pie. What does everyone want?”

  J. J. stood and went into the dining room t
o stake his claim. “Pecan, of course, dear. “

  Renee leaned over to kiss Joe again when his father was gone, her lips lingering near his, savoring the taste.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “You are too sweet. I love this bracelet. Will you help me put it on?” She took in the room while Joe struggled with the clasp. Two matching floral print recliners flanked either side of a large beige couch. Paintings were everywhere, landscapes, portraits and one still life.

  Finally Joe got the bracelet closed and they headed into the dining room for pie.

  Renee took a bite of the pecan, savoring every morsel. “Eloise, did you make this?”

  “I don’t believe in store-bought pies.”

  “That is without a doubt the best pecan pie I've ever had. It's delicious.” She took a bite of the apple.

  “Thank you.” The older woman smiled from ear to ear.

  “Eloise is a chef.” J. J. beamed at his wife.

  “Oh really? I'll bet you eat well.”

  The man patted his belly. “I think that's obvious.”

  “That's just your winter coat, honey,” Eloise patted his hand.

  “Do you own a bakery or something?” Renee asked the other woman.

  Eloise’s cheeks reddened. “I wish. I work at Southern Estates Country Club.”

  Renee choked on the apple pie. She grabbed for her eggnog. Why did it have to be the same club where Cleave was a member?

  Joe covered her hand. “You okay?”

  “I'm fine,” she croaked. She forced herself to suck in a breath, then immediately coughed. Finally, she recovered. “I'm fine. Really.”

  He shook his head. “God, Renee. Two scares in one night.”

  She had the same thought. After they finished eating, the foursome sat in the dining room telling stories about Christmases past.

  “When Joe was eight, he found all the gifts his mom had hidden in the basement. He unwrapped every one of them, then tried to reseal them. Of course, it was obvious they'd all been opened. When she confronted him, he told her Santa had done a crappy job of wrapping them.”

  They all laughed.

  “I was never very patient.” Joe winked at Renee.

  She glanced at his parents, wondering if they’d caught his innuendo but they acted oblivious. “When I was probably about that age, my sister—who's two years older than me—got the Barbie house I'd been hoping for. I got a bike or something. I was so jealous that I went in her room with scissors and cut a small hole about this big in every article of clothing she owned.” She made a circle with her thumb and index finger. “My Mama made me wear every one of those shirts and pants at least once as punishment.”

  “Weren't they too big?” Eloise asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. My sister is way smaller. When we were growing up, from the time I was seven and she was nine, we wore about the same size. My sister got all the thin and gorgeous genes from our mother. I got stuck with the not so thin and gorgeous genes.”

  “I bet you're the best looking one of the bunch,” Joe said.

  Gooseflesh covered her skin. He seemed to have a talent for making her feel good about herself. She left at midnight, mindful that she was to be at her parent's house early the next morning. On her way home she thought about Eloise. What were the chances that Joe's stepmother worked at the country club where her family, and more importantly, Cleave, were members? She resigned herself to the fact that she had to break things off with Cleave, and soon. If she didn’t, her luck would ensure a major disaster.

  * * * * *

  There was no traffic on the road Christmas night so Renee arrived at Becky’s house in record time. As usual, Bo jumped on her and nearly knocked her over.

  “Down, Bo,” Becky scolded. But the dog never listened to her. She finally pulled him from the room by his collar and closed him into her bedroom before returning to the living room. Huffing, she settled into the butterfly chair.

  Renee stretched out on the couch. “So what's going on? My curiosity’s been piqued all day.” She prayed Becky didn’t want to sell the salon and she was prepared to beg her not to if necessary. What if Becky was ill? God, she’d die if anything happened to her best friend.

  “First tell me about your Christmas. How was it meeting Joe's parents?” She folded her hands on her lap.

  The familiar warmth filled her like it always did when she thought of Joe. “It was nice. They're very down to earth, like he is. Really warm and welcoming.” She told her about taking a wrong turn, the vagrant and Joe talking her all the way to his dad's house. “I rushed into his arms and it was like I was home. I love being with him, but when I'm with Cleave, I want to be there. Anyway, I found out Joe's stepmother is a chef at the country club where Cleave is a member. What are the chances?”

  Becky's eyes opened wide. “You're kidding?”

  “I wish I was. I have to stay away from the restaurant there now.”

  “I'm thinking it's time to cut bait with one of them. Do you know what you're going to do?”

  “I have to end things with Cleave. But he's so sweet, Beck, I don't want to hurt him. I really like him. I just…I like Joe more.” She wrung her hands. “So, tell me what's going on with you. I’m dying of curiosity.”

  Becky shifted in her seat. “Where do I begin? Okay. You remember I told you I had a baby when I was sixteen?”

  “Yeah. And you put him up for adoption.”

  “Right. Well last Monday I'm out front pulling weeds and stuff when this man approaches me.” She rubbed her temples. “Do you want a drink or something?”

  “No, I'm fine. Go on.” Her mouth was dry, but she wanted to hear what was going on.

  “Okay. So, he tells me he's a private detective. There's his card.” She pointed to a business card on the coffee table.

  Renee picked it up and read. “Brian Temple, Private Investigator.”

  “Anyway, he tells me my son has been searching for me and would like to meet me.” Tears welled in her eyes and she stopped speaking for a moment. “He wants to meet me, Renee. He's twenty years old and he lives in Jacksonville. He's a dog groomer. Can you believe that? Me a hairdresser and my son is a dog groomer.” She shook her head.

  Renee took a deep breath, relieved that nothing was wrong with Becky and that she had no plans to try to sell the shop. “Weird.”

  “I'll say. So here's the thing. Meeting him—Justin is his name—scares the shit out of me.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “Why?” Renee felt her own tears threatening.

  She shrugged. “What if he's angry that I gave him up?”

  “Becky, that is the most loving thing someone in the position you were in could have done. Why would he be angry? You gave him life.”

  “I think sometimes kids who were adopted are angry at their birth mother.”

  “I don't think he'd have hired a private investigator and asked to meet you if he was angry. He probably wants to fill that unknown in his life.”

  “If I decide to meet with him, will you be there with me?”

  “I guess. But don't you want to be alone with him?” Part of her wanted to say no, it would be too intimate a moment for her to intrude upon. But she'd be there if Becky thought she might need her.

  She shrugged. “If I do, you can step outside or something.”

  “I’d do anything for you. You know that. If you're brave enough to meet him, the least I can do is to be there for you.”

  Becky crossed the room and bent to hug her. “Thank you. This means so much to me. I'm going to do it. You’re such a good friend.”

  No, she wasn’t. If she was really a good friend, she’d have admitted that she wasn’t doing a very good job with the salon’s finances. But she’d tell her about all that another time. Right after the holidays.

  She said a silent prayer, hoping Becky’s meeting with her son would all work out the way Becky wanted.

  * * * * *

  “Mind if I drive your car?” Joe
asked on New Years Eve.

  As long as it meant she didn’t have to ride in the police car, Renee was good with that. “No problem.”

  “Since we’re leaving the county, I can’t take my SO issued car.”

  She handed him the keys as he opened the passenger door for her. “Where are we going?” Her stomach flip-flopped.

  “Can you guess?” He kept his gaze fixed on the road as he turned out of her complex.

  She waited as he merged onto the highway. “How long are we going to be on the Interstate?”

  “You'll see.” A smile played on his lips.

  She squirmed in her seat, wondering what the evening ahead held for them. After driving for twenty minutes, she finally realized where they were headed. “I've got it. We're going to the beach, aren't we?”

  He looked over at her, grinning. “Was it the sign that said, ‘Beaches’ that tipped you off?”

  She reached across the seat to hit his thigh, his hard-as-a-rock, muscular, sexy thigh. He took her hand and kissed it. After another thirty minutes they passed the closed tollbooth, then turned left.

  She rolled down her window to glimpse the white foam glide atop the dark water. The sound of the waves crashing and the smell of the salt spray instantly relaxed her. They passed a few couples sitting or walking along the shore.

  Joe found a spot away from the other cars to park the Jeep. He came around to the passenger side to open her door, then pulled a towel out of the back seat and offered her his hand. “Glad you keep a towel in your car. I forgot to bring the blanket I had in mine. Think we should take off our shoes?”

  “Yeah, that'd be a good idea.” She slipped off her sandals, thankful she'd had Chantelle give her a pedicure earlier in the week.

  They walked about a quarter mile down the beach under a crescent moon.

  “How's this?” He spread the towel on the sand.

  “Fine. But for what?”

  He pointed to the left. “See that pier?”

  “Yeah.” Strings of lights were draped along it.

  “At midnight they shoot off fireworks from there.”

  She gasped. “Oh, I bet it's beautiful.”