by Carmen Green
Excited, she scrounged in her desk and came up with two dollars and eighty-three cents. Tia dropped the extra change back into the drawer. She might need that for another lunch. “I’ll buy one bar if you give me your lunch, too.”
“What! I’ll be hungry by lunchtime.”
“You’ve got more roast beef at home, man. But can you eat forty-six boxes of chocolate?”
“Crap,” he whispered. “Fine.”
Vic shuffled over, took the money, and dropped the candy and his lunch on her desk. “You the black Mafia now?”
“Get out,” she told him, with a smile.
She devoured half the sandwich in a few bites, then forced herself to stop.
Two dollars and fifty cents had bought her three meals today. She didn’t want to eat them all in one sitting.
Tia dialed the mail room to tell Rhonda/Ronnie she was still employed but was told she’d been called into a meeting with the Normans.
The roast beef and rye staged a revolt, but Tia coated her stomach with two more precious Tums and prayed her new best friend wasn’t in trouble because of her.
The clock read 9:30. She’d had the morning from hell, but things were hopefully looking up.
Byron’s face popped into her mind. He’d been stern and angry, but when she left him, his eyes had been wary. Behind them, though, had been something else. Longing, she realized. Did he have a woman? Definitely not. Who’d have a hard-ass like him?
Tia flicked the computer mouse back and forth idly.
He’d rescued her again. Was there a limit to how many times a person could be saved by one police officer?
She didn’t think so but bargained that if she made it through the day without getting fired, and got the condo without any drama, she’d kiss Byron Rivers on the mouth.
In 2065.
By the time Tia walked through the revolving doors of Colony Square, the sky was dark, winter showing off its power. Cold air braced Tia on each side, and she hesitated, wishing her next steps were to the destiny of her choosing. Except her chauffeur-driven squad car was waiting.
Byron stepped out and came around just as she reached for the handle. “You can’t sit in the front,” he said.
Tia sucked her teeth, attitude enveloping her like the cold wind. “Do I have to look like I’m under arrest as I leave the job I barely have?”
“Why is everything always a fight with you?”
“Back in trouble again, Tia? This is so you ... so perfect.” Chance had walked up behind Tia, catching her off guard.
The smirk on her face stung to the soles of Tia’s aching feet. Her mother had always taught her that hate wasn’t possible if love lived in a person’s heart, but that was another lie Millicent Amberson had passed on to her gullible child.
Tia’s purse slid down the sleeve of her borrowed jacket. Screw the rest-of-her-life list. Kicking Chance’s ass was the only thing she had left to do before she died. “Chance, I’ve had it—”
“Tia, we have to get going if we’re going to make it to our dinner reservations on time.”
Byron’s arm slid around Tia’s neck in a semi-choke hold.
“You’re”—Chance looked off into the distance for the answer to her assumption—“you’re not here to arrest her?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because she’s guilty of a crime?” Chance said, as if Byron were the biggest doofus in the world.
“I don’t usually incarcerate my dates. We’re late, darlin’,” he said to Tia.
He’d only planned to peck her on the lips, but after this morning’s nonsense and his midmorning dreams, he couldn’t help kissing Tia for real. All day he’d felt anxious, until now.
He took her into his arms and let their mouths touch. Slowly, her soft lips slid against his, and when the delicate tip of her tongue greeted his, Byron knew this was no longer playacting. He let his guard down and enjoyed the moment.
When their mouths finally separated, he realized her scary-looking boss was still there. “Good night,” he told her.
Byron opened the passenger door and helped Tia inside. She glanced up at Chance, who had turned a lovely shade of stupid, and rolled her eyes.
When Byron climbed inside and shifted the car into drive, Tia kissed him again, her fingers playing at the base of his scalp. His cheek tingled.
“Is she still looking?” he said, his voice heavy until he cleared his throat.
“Yep.” Tia watched through the passenger rearview mirror.
“She’s a piece of work.”
“Her jaw is still on the ground. She’s Cruella De Vil, black heart included.”
Byron drove around the corner and merged into evening traffic, the bright red and white lights from other cars winking at them.
Tia yawned, lack of sleep catching up to her. Although her heart pounded and her eyes begged to close, she couldn’t really rest until she was inside her home.
She gazed at him and couldn’t look away. She noticed the strength of his jaw, the curve of his full lips, and the way he gripped the steering wheel in his large, capable hands. Tia blinked, feeling things she had no right to. “I owe you. Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.”
Inexplicably, the statement rubbed her like sandpaper against raw skin. “Is everything with you about your job?”
“You trying to say I don’t have a life?”
“I’m asking if you do.”
“Yes, I have a life.”
“No elaboration? ‘Yes, I do,’” Tia imitated. “You just seem like you could be, and I’m not saying that you are, but boring.”
“Is that so?” He smiled, and his dimple winked at her. She wanted to stick her tongue in the little indent.
“Yes. What do you do for fun?” Tia asked, needing to know more about the man that had insinuated himself so intricately into her life.
“I have fun, and it’s none of your business.”
“Good answer,” she said softly. “You just had your tongue in my mouth, and I shouldn’t know what you do to have fun?” Tia giggled and squeezed his right leg. The muscle jumped against her palm. “Talk about putting the cart before the horse.”
She pulled her hand away and looked out the passenger window. “You hide behind your job. I said thank you. A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have sufficed.”
He looked at her, then back at the road.
“Thank you, Byron,” she said pointedly.
He breathed deeply and shook his head. “You’re welcome.”
Tia folded her arms. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? So,” she said, glancing out the passenger window, enjoying the familiar scenery, “what do you do when you’re not working? You a member of the stun gun club?”
“You are not funny,” he said, although he smiled a little. “Once you’re in the house, you should consider changing the locks.”
He’d successfully averted any conversation about himself, returning to the reason why she was in his car. She’d tried to even the playing field, yes, for her own comfort, but he wasn’t having it.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” was all Tia could manage through tight lips.
He glanced at her before bringing the squad car to a smooth stop.
“Have you been patrolling the condo parking lot since our unfortunate meeting?”
“No. My zone was changed.”
“Because of me?”
“The 22,400 people that live in zone two needed another patrol car added for their protection. Nothing to do with you. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Acute embarrassment knocked on the door of her ego and gave her a fat lip. Life, as he’d so eloquently mentioned, wasn’t all about her. So why did she feel as if she were under a hot microscope?
“I was just wondering if you’d seen anything out of the ordinary?”
“No, but you’re not expecting anything strange to happen, are you?”
Strange? Tia didn’t know how to answer that. Dumped. Jailed. Deserted by her one loyal be
st friend. Potentially losing her job.
Tia wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think things could get any more bizarre. “No.”
“Have you had any encounters with your ex?”
“No, I haven’t seen Dante, or talked to or thought about him, except about how much pleasure I’m going to have when I squash him like the little bug that he is.”
The car jerked, and Tia lurched forward, her hands smacking the dashboard as cars screeched to a halt behind them.
“Have you forgotten how to drive?” she sniped. “I just did twenty-four hours in jail. I don’t want my last thought to be, is my mother going to get my coffin at a closeout sale on the Internet?”
Disbelief skittered across his face, and Tia knew she’d just made another mistake.
“This is a camera light,” he said with force. “I have to obey the laws like everyone else.” Byron jabbed his finger at her, then the light. “But that’s beside the point. You must have enjoyed your stay in jail, because you just made a threat against a man you’ve been ordered to stay away from. You’re talking to a police officer, for God’s sake.”
“I may be, but I’m also talking to a man with four sisters. You should know when we’re talking junk and when we’re not. Besides, Byron, in the same situation any one of them could have been me.”
He really laughed then. Tia considered wringing his neck, but then she wouldn’t be a visitor in prison, but a resident.
She shoved her hands under her thighs.
“My sisters would never threaten to take out their ex-lovers. They’re all upstanding citizens, as you should be.”
“After what I’ve been through, I should be able to get a taste of revenge. An eye for an eye. You’ve heard of it.”
“Don’t try to get me to agree with your sick philosophy.” He was quiet for a moment. “What are you planning?” Byron demanded.
“None of your business.”
“You’re done with him. He’s gone. You’re getting your house back, and pretty soon your life will return to whatever normal is for you. Why would you want to risk freedom for revenge? Is he worth it?”
Tia didn’t say that she wanted to hurt Dante for hurting her, because these emotions were new. All her life she’d always been the calm one. Always in control. But now all she could think about was rocking his greasy-headed boat. In the deep sad recesses of her heart, she wanted to examine what had happened to their relationship. But then the reasonable woman inside her wanted to leave the past behind—after she got him back.
Still, Byron’s points were valid. Her life was inside that house around the corner, and she could start over.
“You’re right. He’s not worth it.”
Byron patted her knee, leaving a memorable handprint. “No, he isn’t. Get in the house. Deal with your personal issues and move on.”
Byron eased the car onto the property and drove slowly.
Any rebuttal Tia wanted to make was swallowed in the familiarity of being so close to home. The stoop looked lonely without the huge pots of petunias she’d planted last year to add an inviting splash of color. Each day when she’d left the house, she’d smile at the blooms, and upon her return every evening, it was as if the flowers were welcoming her home. Tomorrow she’d put the pots out even though it was too soon for the flowers. That would show the world that the ugly smudge their breakup had left on the neighborhood was being erased. It would signal that she was moving forward.
She’d hung the sea green shears over the single-pane clear glass side panels on either side of the front door four weeks ago, her dream of a serene entryway to the house falling apart with the breakup. Decorating had been her focus all those weeks ago. Making the relationship work had been important.
Now the thought of seeing Dante again made her stomach squeeze.
Byron parked next to the handicap spaces and got out. Coming around, he opened her door, offering her his hand.
Tia thought of leaving him hanging but didn’t. Just because she felt evil didn’t mean she had to be evil. Besides, he’d be out of her life soon, too.
Stepping out of the car, she eased ahead of Byron and walked up the short flight of stairs, her heart thundering.
“You got your keys?” he asked.
“I do.”
Tia inserted the key and was attempting to turn it when the door was wrenched open.
She backed up, surprised at the black woman who stood before her, clad in a floral silk robe, curly weave cascading down both sides of her face. She was thick, her lipstick faded, her mouth twisted at being disturbed.
“Who the hell are you?” Tia demanded.
“The new tenant, Ida Wilkes. I heard you might be stopping by. This is for you.”
The woman shoved a sheaf of papers into Tia’s hand.
Incomprehension flooded her as she stared at them. Lease agreement? What the hell?
“There must be some kind of misunderstanding,” Tia said. “This is my home.”
The woman cocked her head. “You would be the one not understanding. You see, you might own it, but I rented it. This lease agreement says so. Buh-bye.”
Rage suffused Tia, and before she could think through her actions, she launched herself through the closing door, caught a handful of hair, and yanked.
Chapter Fifteen
In the back of the squad car, Tia wiped her tears.
Byron was glad that he hadn’t cuffed her, after the unexpected attack on Ms. Wilkes.
“I want that crazy bitch arrested!” Ida Wilkes stood on the stoop outside, holding her head, pointing at Tia. “She yanked out my weave. She assaulted me!”
“She thought your hair was going to close in the door. She was trying to help you.” Great lie, and so far from the truth, Byron had a hard time keeping a straight face. Hair streamed through Ms. Wilkes’s fingers, a whole section of French braids visible on her scalp.
“What the hell kind of excuse is that?”
“I can’t account for her logic.” Byron looked back at Tia, who was unrepentant and hollering in the car. “Who leased you this condo?” he asked Ida Wilkes.
“The former owner, Dante Manuel.”
“He’s not the rightful owner. Ms. Amberson is.”
“Mr. Manuel said he was, and I believed him. I acted in good faith, and now you’re tryin’ to say I’m out my hard-earned money? I don’t think so.”
“Would you happen to know Mr. Manuel’s current address?”
“No. He said he’d gotten an acting job in Los Angeles. That’s why he needed to do everything in cash. I made him give me a receipt, though. And he said he’d contact me for the rent in a few months. That was fine with me. I’m paid up for a minute, anyway.”
“This is a misunderstanding,” Byron said, reading the lease, which looked legit. Manuel had made the agreement the day before the hearing, but Byron wasn’t sure what took precedence. Manuel had been living in the house up until Judge Dunn’s order, and as a resident, he had been able to make decisions regarding the property. Leasing it was another ball game, one where Byron didn’t know the rules. The judge would have to get involved, and that made Byron edgy because the question became, where would Tia go in the interim?
Whether he was five miles away or three thousand, on the west coast, Manuel was doing a good job of sticking it to Tia.
“When did you meet with Manuel?” Byron asked Ms. Wilkes.
“Two weeks ago, Wednesday. I paid him forty-five hundred dollars, four months’ rent in advance, and didn’t have to pay a security deposit. So you tell crazy ass over there, this condo is legally mine. Here.” She stomped into the foyer and pulled several boxes from against the wall and shoved them onto the porch with her foot.
“He said she might come for these.” The woman glared up at Byron. “I don’t want to see her around here again. If I do, I’m gone kick ass first and take names later.”
Pissed now that nothing had gone as planned, Byron pulled the handcuffs off his belt. “Are you threatening
Ms. Amberson? If you are, I’ll be glad to charge you and take you to jail.”
“Brotha, please! If she ain’t goin’ to jail, I definitely ain’t. Besides, I ain’t threatenin’ nobody. I’m promising that if she tries to break into my house again, she’s going to meet Ms. Whoop Ass.”
The door slammed in Byron’s face, and he turned to look at Tia. Her eyes were round, and they widened as he walked down the stairs, his arms laden with her boxes. He could see her struggling to open the back door, but the futile attempt just further infuriated her.
He could hear her through the glass, screaming, “What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?”
He was asking himself the same damned thing. After arranging the boxes in the trunk, he opened the driver door and slid in.
“That’s my house, and I want it back now.”
“Tia, Manuel leased it, and the agreement looks legit. You’re going to need a lawyer.”
“Why?” she screeched. “I have you. You were told to get me into my house. You promised me this morning. I can’t believe this. What the hell just happened?”
Byron turned around, bulletproof glass and metal separating him and Tia. Her face was taut from crying, her dark eyes piercing by the overhead light.
“He rented the place to her the day before the hearing,” Byron said, striving to stay calm. “Manuel took forty-five hundred dollars from her, and now she refuses to leave.”
“I’m the rightful owner of that condo. I’m supposed to be in there, not her! Do something!”
“Tia, first of all, quit screaming. Second, you snatched her damn near bald, and she has a legitimate lease agreement. You’ll probably have to go through the process of evicting her.”
“I’ll take care of that right now. Let me out of this car. Evicting her isn’t a problem for me. Come open this door. I’ll do what you couldn’t do.”
Tia kept bumping the door with her shoulder, a slightly deranged look in her eyes.
Why were all women crazy?
“You’re not going anywhere near that house. Tia,” Byron said forcefully, trying to get her to look at him. She finally stopped moving. “I’ll put in a few calls, and within the next couple days, we should have an answer as to how to get her out.”
