Her Secret Life

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Dudes like you are the reason I’m in this predicament,” Graham said. “I’m just trying to be one of the good guys here.”

  “Have you just tried telling her why you’re not into her?” Craig asked. “Maybe she’ll be reasonable.”

  “She’s not reasonable at all, though. She said I don’t want her ’cause her hair doesn’t blow in the wind. I mean, really. I’m not that guy. I love all the sistas.”

  “It is hard for chicks like her in DC, though,” Lorne said. “There’s a lot of competition for the handful of decent guys who would actually settle down with them. You’re a hot commodity, and you don’t even know it.”

  “And she’s been putting in work,” Craig said. “She probably feels like she wasted her time.”

  “Whose side are y’all on?” Graham asked.

  “Yours, but you need to understand your enemy.”

  Graham sighed. He didn’t want Leslie to be his enemy. She was his sister in Christ.

  “She’s not my enemy.”

  “She is if she’s trying to make you lose your job,” Craig said. “Just hold off from saying anything to your boss. She may not say or do anything else.”

  “He needs to get ahead of it,” Lorne said.

  “He shouldn’t be the one escalating it,” Craig argued back.

  “Never mind, y’all. I’m gonna pray about it before I do anything. I honestly feel bad that she’s upset, but I can’t help it that I’m not attracted to her.”

  “You’re gonna wish you followed my advice,” Lorne said. “I hope your new boo likes unemployed dudes.”

  Graham wasn’t going to let this thing with Leslie go that far. If worse came to worse, he’d go to his supervisor and defend himself.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Graham looked down at his phone to verify that he had the right address for Onika’s home. He did, but there was a sign in front of it that said, “Safe Harbor.” Nothing else. What kind of place was this? Was Onika on drugs? Mentally ill?

  What had he gotten himself into picking up girls on the Metro platform?

  He paid the driver and got out of the cab, but he was still concerned that this had been a bad idea. At least, this was a decent neighborhood on the Northeast side of DC, and the town house was in a row of other well-kept houses. It must’ve cost Onika a mint, because this area was notoriously expensive due to gentrification.

  The door swung open before Graham got up the walkway. Onika stood smiling and waving. She wasn’t kidding about him being on time.

  “Come on in!” Onika said in a bubbly voice.

  “Okay . . .”

  Graham followed her inside, and immediately he calmed down. It was just a very nicely decorated town house. Nothing said rehab or home for the mentally ill.

  “I made crab cakes, whipped potatoes, and green beans. Sound good?” Onika asked.

  Graham’s stomach grumbled. He’d come directly from work. “Yes, it does sound good.”

  “I have to admit, though, I didn’t cook it. I ordered in.”

  Graham laughed out loud. “You just said you made it.”

  “I made the call.”

  They both burst into laughter.

  “I guess that’s good enough.”

  Onika led him into the dining room, where the entire table was set. It was a really nice setup, with a floral centerpiece. Onika had really gone out of her way to make it nice.

  They both sat, and Ty came out wearing an apron and holding a bottle of wine.

  “I’m the waitress for the evening,” Ty said, “and even though you won’t be paying a bill, I do accept tips.”

  “Hello again, Ty. Did you help Onika put all this together?”

  “I did. That’s what roomies are for.”

  “Oh, you’re roommates?”

  Ty glanced at Onika. “I’ll let her explain, but yeah, we’re roommates.”

  Ty poured wine into both their glasses and said that she’d be back later with their dinner. There was bread and salad already on the table.

  “Should I bless the food?” Graham asked.

  “Sure.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes, and Graham offered a brief prayer. He noticed that she didn’t say “amen,” but he didn’t comment on it. At least she was tolerant of his beliefs.

  “So you saw the sign on the way in, right? Safe Harbor,” Onika said.

  “Yes, I was about to ask you about that.”

  “This is where I live, but I run a program that houses women in crisis. So sometimes there are single moms here, runaways, addicts, homeless. All of the above. Ty is the only one here now, though, and she’s about to move.”

  “Really? What’s her story?”

  Onika shook her head. “Not my story to tell, but she was in need, and we helped her.”

  “We? Do you have grant funding? There may be some government money available if you’ve got certain licenses.”

  Onika cleared her throat. “Most of our funding comes from private donors, but I do have a partner. She lives here, too. She’s just not here right now.”

  “So that’s why you didn’t want to bring me to your home.”

  “Right. I had to get to know you first. Our residents’ safety is important to me.”

  “But you left Ty with my homeboy, Lorne.”

  Onika chuckled. “She is a grown woman, plus she liked him. Who am I to block?”

  Graham was satisfied with this, and it all made sense. Why she was so secretive, why she didn’t call him right away.

  Ty brought their food in and placed it on the table.

  “Will you two be needing anything else?” she asked.

  “No, and if we do, I can get it. Thanks, Ty,” Onika said.

  “Okay, girl. Y’all enjoy. I’ll be upstairs.”

  Ty left the room, and Onika grinned at Graham. Her good mood made him feel warm inside. He imagined holding her in his arms, and what her lips tasted like. Maybe he’d find out later.

  “How has your week been so far?” Onika asked. “Have you seen Leslie at work?”

  Graham’s warm feeling dissipated. “Yes, and she has been acting crazy. She broke down crying on Monday, like I broke her heart or something.”

  “Oh no. I feel bad for her.”

  “Don’t feel bad for her. She is tripping.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like being a single black woman. It’s hard.”

  Graham nodded. “That’s what I’ve been hearing. I thought I was being nice spending time with her, but it kind of backfired on me.”

  “Maybe you can still end up being friends.”

  “Enough about her. What’s up with you? Ready to start your new job?”

  Onika bit her bottom lip. “No, it fell through. I’m starting this tutoring gig next week until I find something better.”

  “Will you be able to do everything you need to do to run this place and have another job?”

  “Oh, um, yes. This place basically runs itself. I’m actually thinking about moving into an apartment so that we can help more women.”

  “You would leave here, for an apartment?”

  “Well, yes . . . then we could be fully listed as a nonprofit organization and get more grant funding. And of course . . . it would be a nice apartment.”

  “I see.”

  The front door to the town house opened, and a middle-aged black woman came inside, her arms full of bags. Graham watched Onika’s face go white as a sheet, and she jumped up.

  “Charmayne,” she said, “do you need help with your bags?” Onika ran over to Charmayne, and Graham followed. He wasn’t going to let Onika carry bags while he sat at the dining room table.

  “Well, hello,” Charmayne said to Graham.

  He extended his hand to shake Charmayne’s and then took one of her bags. “Hi. I’m Graham, a friend of Onika’s.”

  “I’m Charmayne Ellis.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Are you one of the residents here?”

  Charmayne ga
ve Onika a look Graham couldn’t decipher, but then she smiled. “Yes, I live here.”

  “I thought you went to your Bible study,” Onika said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Well, yes. I just decided to bake a cheesecake to celebrate Ty getting her apartment.”

  “Cheesecake?” Graham asked. “Did someone say cheesecake? That’s my favorite dessert.”

  “Is it? Well, you’re welcome to stay if you want,” Charmayne said.

  “Of course he’s welcome. He’s here for dinner, silly,” Onika said.

  Charmayne made her way to the dining room. “You’re right. We are one big family here, Graham. I really am happy to meet you.”

  She looked down at the table. “Oh, crab cakes. Very nice. Romantic.”

  Charmayne went into the kitchen. Graham and Onika followed with the bags. They started to put things away, but Charmayne stopped them.

  “I can handle this. Your dinner is going to get cold,” Charmayne said.

  Graham and Onika went back into the dining room and sat down. Onika took several rapid bites of food. She seemed nervous and unsettled, so Graham knew something was going on; he just didn’t know what.

  “Onika . . .”

  “What? What’s up?” she asked.

  “Is this Charmayne’s home and you’re living here?”

  “No! We run this place together, actually.”

  “Then why are you acting so weird?”

  Onika took a huge gulp of water from her glass. “Because I broke one of our cardinal rules. We have it for the residents and ourselves because of some of the issues the women have. We don’t entertain at home.”

  “Oh, and you thought Charmayne was going to be out for a few hours.”

  “Yes, she left for Bible study like she does every Thursday, but clearly she didn’t go. And you were acting like I was being secretive. I wanted you to know where I live . . . what I do.”

  “All you had to do was tell me,” Graham said. “I would’ve respected the rules.”

  “Well, now you’ll know if I don’t ask you to come back. It’s not because I don’t enjoy you; it’ll be because we have someone with a precarious situation. Ty is fine, and she’s moving this weekend. We’re getting new residents over the weekend, so I don’t know what it’ll be like then.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, thank you for breaking the rules just to see me and pretend cook me dinner.”

  Onika laughed. “Picking up the phone is just as good as cooking if you’re not the best in the kitchen.”

  “What do you know how to cook?”

  “Spaghetti, and Hamburger Helper. I can also do quite a few things with a boneless, skinless chicken breast.”

  “That’s enough. I won’t starve to death then.”

  Onika laughed. “So you think I’m going to be cooking for you on a regular basis?”

  “Yes. Soon. That’s what good girlfriends do for their boyfriends.”

  “You’re going to be my boyfriend?”

  He nodded. “I’m already on date number three.”

  “What do good boyfriends do? Girlfriends cook meals, and boyfriends do what?”

  “I’m glad you asked. Boyfriends teach their girlfriends how to swim. So . . .”

  “Um, no . . .”

  “You have twice-weekly swimming lessons at the recreation center. They’re usually seventy-five dollars for ten sessions, but for you, it’s free. All you have to do is wear a cute bathing suit.”

  Onika threw her head back and laughed. “What if I don’t want to learn how to swim? Because you know you can’t make me learn if I won’t get in the water.”

  “You’ll get in, and I’m gonna help you get over your fear. You should know how to swim.”

  Without warning, Onika got up from the table, ran over to Graham, and kissed him. It wasn’t a particularly sexy kiss. It was a loud peck on his cheek next to his mouth, but barely brushing the side of his mouth.

  “What was that for?” Graham asked.

  “You didn’t like it?” Onika whispered, her face still inches from Graham’s.

  “I did. I just want to know what I did, so I can do it again.”

  Onika let out a little giggle. “I don’t know. I think I like that you’re trying to save my life. It’s kinda hot.”

  “Well, we can go down to the Anacostia River if you want me to really save you. You can jump right in, and I’ll pull you out. Then what reward will I get?”

  This made Onika’s small giggles grow louder. Then she kissed him again, and this one was sexy. He pulled her in closer, wrapped his arms around her, and settled in. It had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman. An even longer time since he’d done more.

  He wanted the kiss to last forever. His hand stole into her hair—loosened it so that the curls tumbled over her shoulders and brushed his face. It smelled like coconuts. Finally, when they could no longer breathe, Graham separated, but still held her face close to his. He bit her bottom lip to seal the deal.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Onika looked at the address of the DC community center where she’d be tutoring. It was right near the Eastern Market Metro station, one of her favorite, eclectic parts of Washington, DC. She knew it well, because Aaron’s town house was about a thirty-second walk from the station. It was on the southeast side of DC, but near the Capitol, where there were million-dollar residences.

  When she emerged from the Metro station, Onika didn’t even look in the direction of her former home. She was reminded of a Bible story her grandmother loved about Lot’s wife turning into a pillar of salt. Earlene had always said that it wasn’t the looking that had killed Lot’s wife; it was the longing for everything she’d left behind.

  Onika did long for everything she’d left behind, but she couldn’t allow herself to think about it. She pushed forward, wondering if the future held a different kind of wealth.

  Onika’s lip curled at the sight of the dilapidated community center. She’d worn a simple skirt and blouse that she would’ve worn on the first day of school, but as soon as she walked into the run-down building she wished she’d just worn jeans and a T-shirt.

  An elderly woman came out to greet Onika. She had the brightest of smiles on her face. Onika couldn’t help but return the smile.

  “You must be Charmayne’s friend. I’m Mrs. Grandbury. We don’t have any clients yet today, but I think we will later on.”

  “Okay. Well, what time do they typically show up?” Onika asked.

  “Right around dinnertime.”

  Onika nodded. Her hours were noon until eight o’clock in the evening on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Saturday mornings. Not a lot of hours, but enough to put a few dollars in her checking account.

  “Dinnertime isn’t for a few hours. Is there anything you’d like me to help with until then?”

  Mrs. Grandbury clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you asked, baby. You can help with dinner.”

  Onika’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait? You mean like help with a meal?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. We’re having spaghetti and meatballs tonight. That seems to be a hit with everyone.”

  “I thought the people came for tutoring. You feed them too?”

  “We mostly feed them.”

  Onika chuckled and shook her head. Charmayne knew exactly what this place was, and that it wasn’t somewhere Onika wanted to be four days a week. Not that she didn’t believe in service. She put in many volunteer hours with her sorority sisters. Epsilon Phi Beta was known for their dedication to service.

  But now Onika needed to make real money and build her résumé. She wasn’t even able to get a job at a temporary agency. DC was full of contractors looking for talent, but all Onika had was a degree and an in-depth knowledge of table etiquette. No one was hiring for that.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs, huh?” Onika asked. “I bet you make a mean plate of spaghetti, Mrs. Grandbury.”

  “Chicken and dumplings, too. That’s what I’m making them on
Saturday. That’ll really be a treat.”

  “This type of place is typically staffed by volunteers. How can you afford to pay me?”

  “Oh, Ms. Charmayne pays all of the ladies she sends over here. We do have volunteers that come in from the high schools and what not. They will be here in a little while. Mostly, this place runs on faith, love, and donations.”

  Onika stood staring at Mrs. Grandbury. Charmayne hadn’t networked to get her this job. She’d created the job.

  “Does Charmayne send many women over here?”

  “About once a month we get a new one. They usually last until they get a real job, but Ms. Charmayne gives them a paycheck and sends us food, too. She is a good woman.”

  Onika followed Mrs. Grandbury wordlessly into the kitchen and got straight to work. With a well-worn apron, she covered her skirt and blouse and chopped onions and bell peppers. It seemed like an endless number of them. She cut so many onions that her eyes were raw from her salty tears.

  Onika watched Mrs. Grandbury move around the kitchen, making her spaghetti sauce with swift, nimble motions that belied her age. The kitchen seemed to take twenty years off the little lady. While she was cooking, she seemed more like a young grandmother than a great-great grandmother, which is what she probably was.

  “Do you have children, Mrs. Grandbury?” Onika asked as Mrs. Grandbury squeezed an entire clove of pressed garlic into a huge skillet containing olive oil.

  “I did have a daughter. I gave her up for adoption, though. A nice family got her, and they moved out of town. I didn’t see her grow up.”

  Onika gasped and wished that she hadn’t brought it up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “No need to be sorry. I was only thirteen years old. I didn’t have no business trying to raise a baby, and so I didn’t.”

  Mrs. Grandbury kept cooking and didn’t elaborate on how she’d ended up pregnant at thirteen but Onika was sure curious. She wondered if it was a rape or if she’d been promiscuous as a girl. Onika couldn’t imagine the sweet little lady before her being a bad girl.