Empty

by Stacy - Deanne

  Empty

  By

  Stacy-Deanne

  Empty

  Copyright © September 2014, Stacy-Deanne

  Cover art by Mina Carter © September 2014

  Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  ISBN: 978-1-939151-69-8

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Sugar and Spice Press

  North Carolina, USA

  www.sugarnspicepress.com

  Chapter One

  Forty-five year-old college professor Bella Terry ordered a lime smoothie at the counter of the Sacramento, California gym and headed to one of the tables in the corner. She made sure to pick the table close to the men’s room in hopes of seeing Cameron Moore with his shirt off or anything close to it.

  She cut her eyes to the door of the men’s room every time a man exited or entered.

  I should be ashamed of myself. My old black ass has no business even thinking about this boy, let alone trying to catch a look at that sweaty chest again.

  She slowly turned her head toward the men’s room as another guy walked out.

  Is he showering? Is he dabbing that perfect ass and six-pack stomach?

  “Stop it,” Bella whispered and set her drink down. “What is wrong with me?”

  What was wrong with her? It had been years since any man lit a fire in her. It was true that you couldn’t help whom you were attracted to, but this was ridiculous. She and Cameron couldn’t have been more different. She was twenty years older, black, and other than an interest in psychology and Ping-Pong, she couldn’t find one thing they had in common.

  Oh.

  She glanced around.

  Well, they had the gym in common starting today, and they had school in common. Too bad she was his professor.

  She dropped her head.

  When was the last time just looking at a man made her feel so good? Why in the hell did it have to be someone she had no business being attracted to in the first place?

  * * * *

  Cameron dabbed sweat from underneath his arms and slipped back into his white muscle shirt. He glanced at the door of the men’s bathroom every time someone left or walked in. Professor Terry still sat at that table nursing her drink.

  He grinned.

  He’d been coming to this gym for three years and never saw her there before. Was she stalking him?

  I wish.

  He wiped his sweaty hair and shook the perverted thoughts from his head. Here he stood, young, fit, intelligent, and the women at Elrod University fawned over him every time he looked around. He could write a book on how many women wanted to date him from school. He’d turned down women most men would dream of just talking with.

  The door swung open and another man walked in.

  Cameron cut his eyes to Bella again. She sucked from the straw even though he doubted anything was in the cup.

  He shook his head.

  What is wrong with me? I could have beautiful women my own age, yet I lust after my teacher.

  Something pulled his eyes back to the door.

  She wasn’t just a teacher of course. Bella Terry had been the object of his affections since he first saw her. Despite her age, she proved hotter than many of the younger women at the school.

  He grabbed his gym bag, inched toward the door, and then stopped.

  She had something that the other girls didn’t have. Something he longed for. Bella understood him. She really understood. They’d spoken after class many times, and it wasn’t just to give him a graded paper or explain something he’d missed on a test. They’d shared and the conversations had ventured into territory that they probably should’ve avoided.

  Walk away. Just walk out of the door and pretend you don’t even see her.

  If it were that easy, she wouldn’t be driving him crazy in the first place. She ruled every part of him. He no longer cared about crossing that line. He wanted to know the woman outside of the classroom. He’d peeked into her soul but longed for her heart.

  He grabbed the door handle and sighed. “Shit.”

  He left the bathroom.

  Chapter Two

  “Professor Terry?” Cameron stood at her table with a sly smile. “I thought that was you on the treadmill but I wasn’t sure until now.”

  Yeah okay.

  She sipped from her straw and grinned.

  He straightened the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  She raised the smoothie. “Why do most people come to gyms?”

  Those magical dimples appeared when he grinned. “I just meant I’ve never seen you here before. I’ve been coming here three years.”

  “I usually go to the gym by my house, but I don’t like the people it’s been attracting lately.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat down. “What do you mean?”

  “Seems like someone’s robbed or a car is broken into every time I’m there.” She sipped.

  “I see.” He nodded. “Well crime is everywhere. A woman was mugged here last week.”

  She sat back. “Looks like I’ll be looking for yet another gym.”

  “I’m sorry.” He laughed with his blue eyes twinkling. “This is a cool place though. Anyway we can’t stop doing what we like because of crime or else we wouldn’t do anything.”

  She pointed at him. “You sound like a psychology major.”

  He smirked and ran his hand through his short blond hair. “You know I get that a lot.”

  She laughed until she remembered she was too old to be carrying on like some teenager with this boy.

  “Ooh.” She tapped her watch. “I’d better be going.” She got her gym bag from the chair beside her.

  “Don’t run away on my account.”

  “I’m not.” She faked a smile and got up. “I gotta go fix dinner.”

  “No you don’t.” He wobbled his head. “You live alone.”

  “Just because I live alone means I don’t need to eat?”

  “No but if it’s just you, then dinner can wait.”

  “No it can’t.” She patted her stomach. “I burned a lot of calories on that treadmill and my stomach’s rumbling like an earthquake.”

  “I don’t hear any rumbling.” He snickered. “I get the feeling you’re trying to brush me off. You can’t fool a psychology major. You’re divorced right?” He waved off the answer before she could speak. “You’d be surprised how thick the grapevine is at Elrod University.”

  “You’ve been talking to the wrong gossipers then.” She sat down and put her gym bag on the table. “My husband died fifteen years ago.”

  “Oh.” He looked at the table. “I’m so sorry, Bella.”

  Bella? He called me Bella without even asking?

  “I had no idea he died. May I ask what happened?”

  She took a deep breath. “We had a car accident, and he died.”

  “My God.” He touched her hand.

  She looked at his long, smooth fingers caressing hers.

  “I bet that was horrible to go through.” He let go of her hand. “If you want to talk about it, then I don’t mind listening.”

  “Believe me I’m fine.” She raised her hand. “Like I said it’s been fifteen years. I still think about him, but I’ve moved on.” She stood. “I really have to go.”

  “Wait.” He reached for her. “I hate that you think you have to go.”

  “What?” She scoffed. “I have to go because I have to go.”

  “You have to go home and be alone?” He sat back. “You have a son, right?”

  She swallowed. “I’d rather not discuss my son with you.” She got
her smoothie off the table. “In fact I’d rather not discuss anything that has nothing to do with class with you.”

  “Why?” He scooted up to the table. “I happen to enjoy our conversations. In fact, I need them. I don’t have many people I can open up to.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t think I’m the best choice to be your friend.” She stood back from the table. “Cameron, there are certain things professors and students don’t discuss.”

  “Like your son?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like what…things we like to do? Food? What?”

  “Don’t try to play me like a fool.” She gestured with her cup. “You know exactly why this isn’t appropriate.”

  “I’ve read the Elrod handbook a thousand times and nowhere does it say professors and students can’t talk outside of class.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on.”

  “And what is going on, Bella?”

  “Don’t call me that.” She raised her eyebrows. “I wanted to tell you before that the way we talk after class…we shouldn’t do that anymore. People might see and start getting ideas.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Well I do care.”

  He shrugged. “Why?”

  “You know why.” She slammed her drink on the table.

  People turned around.

  “You know,” she whispered. “I get a feeling that makes me uncomfortable when I talk to you.”

  “Maybe that’s because you like talking to me and you don’t know how to deal with that.” He stood. “I’ll let you off the hook. I like you a lot. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  She avoided his amazing eyes.

  He walked from behind the table. “There’s just something about you, and I wanna be closer.”

  “Are you out of your mind, Cameron?”

  “Maybe, but I can’t change how I feel.” He took her hand. “If we like being with each other…isn’t that all that matters?”

  “I…” She pulled her hand away. “I gotta go.” She turned to leave.

  “Bella.” He touched her arm. “You owe me, and you need to pay up.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A Ping-Pong match.” He held his arms out. “Remember you told me you were the champion and I made you a bet that you couldn’t beat me.”

  She lowered her head and laughed.

  “I’m serious.” He chuckled. “You said you could beat anyone, and I wanna see if you can beat me.”

  She lifted her head.

  “How about a match at my place tonight?”

  “You must be out of your damn mind, Cameron Moore.” She huffed. “I’m not going anywhere near your place.”

  “I’m only talking about a friendly game of Ping-Pong.” He winked. “You can’t come for that?”

  She looked him up and down. “I can’t come to your place for anything.”

  She left.

  Chapter Three

  “My God.” Bella dropped her purse when she opened her front door. “Isaiah?” She yanked her son off the couch.

  “Mmm?” He stared at her with bloodshot, sunken eyes and dry lips. “Momma.” He coughed. “Hey…hey…” His usually neat dreads tangled on the ends. Lint and grass littered his goatee.

  “Isaiah!” She shook him. “Look at me, boy.” She grabbed his face and forced his eyes on her. “Look at me, damn it.”

  “Huh?” His pupils rolled back.

  “Isaiah!” She pushed him back on the couch. “Wake up!” She jumped up and down. “Wake the fuck up!”

  “What?” He gaped.

  “How did you get here?” She hit his chest. “How?”

  “Hakeem brought me.” He spit. “Why are you yelling so damn much? This is why I don’t visit your ass. You’re always yelling.”

  “Stop coming over here high and I won’t have to yell.” She gripped her head. “I told you that you can’t be over here if you’re high. What happened?” She sat beside him. “You were doing so well, baby. Why did you get back on that shit again?”

  “It’s easy when you got no job or prospects.” He crossed his arms. “I live in the real world, Momma. Things don’t always work out.”

  “You think you gotta tell me that? You talk like you just met me. Like you don’t know the crap I had to go through to be where I am now. I didn’t just wake up and be a professor at Elrod University.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s always about you isn’t it?”

  “Isaiah.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep putting you together if you keep tearing yourself apart.”

  He sucked his lip. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to get help and stick to it!” She pointed to the front door. “I want you to stop lying, stealing, and hanging out with people who are no damn good.”

  “Oh.” He chuckled. “Look who’s talking.”

  She closed her eyes. “I made my mistakes, but I also made them right.”

  “And you think you can judge me?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes I think I can judge you, Isaiah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the cokehead, not me.”

  “You’re a drunk.”

  “Yes.” She jumped up. “Yes I am a drunk, but I’m not the one who broke into your house and laid on your couch am I?” She poked his chest. “You are twenty-two years old. You can’t keep blaming me for your mistakes. Me being an alcoholic has nothing to do with your habit.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.” He jumped up. “It’s all about you, Momma. My life turned out this way because of you.”

  “No.” She leaned back. “What’s happening to you is because of your own choices.”

  “Because of the fucked-up childhood I had!” He stomped around the living room. “I can’t believe this. Dad and I took care of you after all your damn binges.” He pointed to her. “How many nights did I go to sleep without knowing where you were?”

  “Isaiah—”

  “How many days when I was growing up did you not come home, Momma?” He walked up to her. “You’re in no position to judge me.” He grabbed her arm. “Look at me. Everything I am is because of you.”

  “No.” She tore away from him. “I will take responsibility for not being a good mother but not for this.”

  “So you’re not to blame for my problems?” He pulled at his dingy sweatshirt. “What happened to my father?”

  She almost choked on those words. “Don’t.” She waved her hand, holding back tears. “You promised me you wouldn’t throw that in my face. Don’t hurt me like this, Isaiah.”

  “Since you’re not to fuckin’ blame for my habit…tell me what happened to my father.” He shook her arm. “Say it!”

  “Stop it!” She got free and slapped him.

  He bent over, rubbing his face.

  “How dare you throw that in my face?” She shook her finger at him. “You don’t know how awful it feels to live with that. I died the day your father died. It kills me every single day to know he’s not here because of me.”

  He looked at her.

  “You want me to say it?” she shouted. “I killed your father.” She beat her chest. “I killed my husband who I loved!” She shoved him. “I killed him because I was drunk and got behind that wheel. Are you happy now? You’ve hurt me once again so are you happy?”

  “I’m sorry.” He hit the side of his head. “I didn’t mean it, Momma.” He hugged her. “Please. I lost my job. I got nothing. I can’t get off this shit by myself.”

  “I love you.” She didn’t hug him back. “But if you’re asking for a place to stay, then the answer is no.”

  “What?” He let her go.

  “I told you that if you can’t stay clean, you can’t stay here.”

  “Momma.”

  “Hush.” She balled a fist. “I cannot have an addict in my home, Isaiah. It isn’t good for you or for me. I fight every day to stay sober. I have for fifteen years. It’s your turn to fight now. I ca
n’t and I won’t do it for you.”

  “Why should I be surprised?” He held a distant gaze. “I’m used to you not being there for me.”

  “Isaiah.”

  He went to the door. “What else is new?”

  He left.

  Chapter Four

  “Am I terrible?” Bella blew her nose into the tissue as she spoke on the phone. “I’m a terrible mother and a terrible person.”

  “You are not a terrible anything,” Yolanda said. “I want you to take a deep breath, Bella. You have this situation under control.”

  “The hell I do.” She threw the tissue on the carpet and propped her legs up on the couch. “See what he does to me? That’s why he couldn’t stay here. He was only here a few minutes and already I’m falling apart.”

  “Bella, it’s okay.”

  “No it’s not.” She snatched another tissue from the box. “I did this to him, Yolanda. It’s because of me his life is so screwed up.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Come on. You’re my sponsor. Aren’t you supposed to always be honest?”

  “All right, you made some mistakes.” Yolanda exhaled into the phone. “But he’s a grown man now. His actions are his responsibility.”

  “I’m pathetic.” Bella raised the tissue. “I’m a professor of social psychology, yet I can’t relate to my own damn son.”

  “As someone who is a recovering addict, you know that you cannot help him unless he wants help. You gotta stop blaming yourself for everything Isaiah does wrong just because—”

  “What?” Bella sniffled. “Because I killed Ollie?”

  “We don’t need to get into that. You did the right thing by not letting Isaiah stay there. With the stress he puts you through you’d have been off the wagon in a week. You’ve worked so hard all these years and you deserve to have the hard work to pay off.”

  “I know.” She nodded with her eyes closed. “There’s not a day goes by that I don’t want a drink.”

  “That’s why we take one day at a time right? That’s the only way we can conquer…”

  Bella’s cellphone beeped. “Hold on, Yolanda. I have another call.” She checked the ID.