“A contractor? Really? I thought you and Ray were going to be doing everything DIY? Won’t he want to have a say in the selection process?”
I stepped out of the bathroom, heading downstairs to get a bottle of water and a fresh toothbrush to brush my teeth. “If Ray was actually leaving Chicago that would be a consideration. However, he’s not, so really… I no longer have a “boo”.” As I passed through the bedroom, my ruined photo print and the gaping hole in the wall caught my attention again. “Add raggedy ass drywall to the list of things to tell the contractor, and don’t forget funky ass water.”
“Done and done. But wait a minute… no longer have a boo? Ray not leaving Chicago? What the hell is going on?”
I paused on the stairs and pushed out a breath. As my personal assistant – and ride or die bestie— Ayden was so connected to me that she would find out soon enough anyway about the drama with Ray, so it really didn’t make a ton of sense not to just tell her now.
So I did.
And when I was done, she was silent for a long moment before she launched into a tirade. “That sorry, no-good motherfucker. How dare he wait until you— why the hell would he— UGH, I can’t stand his ass! What is wrong with him?!”
“I don’t know, Ayden. Wish I did.”
“Everything you’ve been planning centered on him. If he’s out of the picture now… what are you going to do?”
Ah, the question of the hour. What was I going to do?
My lingerie store, Scantilily, was successful in Chicago. We had a retail area, where customers could just stop in and purchase, but our bread and butter, what set us apart, was the Scantilily experience. No stick-thin, ribcage bearing models plastered the walls in my store. Upscale décor, accessible pricing, and a sales experience modeled after bridal shopping were the cornerstones of my business model. Women of all sizes came in with their friends or lover, or whatever combination in between. They told us what they were looking for, and we delivered. They sipped champagne and modeled, and joked, and laughed, and left with a great memory and bags full of things that made them feel sexy.
It was a great business… I just wasn’t that sure I could replicate that success.
But I stepped out anyway. Ray said he was moving to further his political career, and he wanted me to come with. It was just the push I needed to take the chance on a second location, in what was honestly a beautiful, up-and-coming area. The costs, though, were huge. The deposit on the building space we were leasing, the costs to have it built out to fit our business model, hiring employees, advertisement, licensing, insurance… it was a lot.
I couldn’t open a new store from a distance – well, I could, but I didn’t want to. The Scantilily brand was my baby, my everything. I needed to be hands on. My mother damn near disowned me for moving away from the city where I’d been conceived, raised, and still loved, to “chase behind a rusty ass man”. Turns out, she was right. But obviously, I didn’t know that then.
All I knew was that he was talking about getting married once we were relocated, and mulling over a rough outline for a five-year plan that included kids. I was about to turn 34, so even though I wasn’t even sure I wanted kids… time was ticking. And I loved him, and I believed he loved me. We were young, vibrant, and making our way – this was the time to do these things!
I just really wish he’d broken up with me before I bought the house.
Of all the mistakes, of everything… that was definitely the most idiotic one. It was supposed to be my “Look, I wasn’t just playing along with you when we talked about this, I’m not too cute to break a nail or use a saw!” gift to him when he got here. It was going to be a surprise, because that was something we’d always done with each other, back when things were less… roommate-like. Competing to see who could outdo the other, who could deliver the best bombshell.
Ha.
Ray definitely won this time.
“Guess what? I know you made all these huge decisions thinking we would be together forever, and this was going to be this great adventure with each other, but… SURPRISE, don’t nobody want your ass, bitch! HAHAHA!”
That wasn’t really what he said, of course, but by my estimation, it may as well have been. I was standing frozen, on stairs of questionable structural integrity, wondering what the hell I was going to do now. He was probably snuggled comfortably in bed, beside my replacement. He would move on with his life, because that was what men did. They broke hearts and then skipped away, finding the next woman to be too enthralled by a handsome, straight, ambitious black man with no kids to realize that with all those qualities, he still wasn’t worth shit.
And while he was doing that… what would I do?
With everything in an upheaval, my heart broken, and me embarrassed beyond belief that I’d done all of this to be with him… what would I do?
Come on, Fallon… what are you going to do now? What are you going to do with your life?”
I…
I would…
“I’m going to make it work.” I straightened my shoulders, and stopped allowing my head to droop as I looked around my new house. “Ray didn’t make me. He was just… a season. That season is over, apparently, so I’ll move forward. I’m going to be just fine without him.”
Two.
I forgot what it was like to break up.
Ray and I were together for so long that the sudden loneliness caught me by surprise, even though we hadn’t been physically together for an extended time since I moved. That was the first clue I ignored that something was up. He would never come here, it was always me going to him, and even with that, he’d seemed less and less excited about each visit anyway. But I’d pressed on, because that’s what I did, kept moving forward, and leaving obstacles behind.
So that’s what I did now.
I got up every morning and made myself look cute for work. I talked and laughed with my customers and my peers on the block. I spoke to my parents and mentioned nothing of what happened with Ray. Of course I talked to Ayden, and she cussed and fussed with me for hours, and then we vowed never to speak of him again. This was how we did things, ex boyfriends were dead to us, buried, and had no place in our hearts or minds. The sentiment behind that was good enough, but the practicality of simply erasing someone from your psyche was something else entirely.
But I couldn’t dwell for too long, right?
Even though a dull ache had been heavy on my chest for the entire week since the breakup, even though I was guzzling water like a maniac to replace the hydration I was shedding through tears, I pressed on. Life moved forward, despite the hurt and disappointment of the moment. This moment, this pain, this anger, it would pass, and God willing, I would still be here.
That made me happy. Because honestly? Life was good. Really and truly just… good. I felt it, deep in a place that I couldn’t identify, that right here, even in a new city with none of my family, none of my friends, and a broken heart… this was where I was supposed to be. That feeling I’d been having, the well of complacency I’d been trying to break out of when I decided to embrace the idea of moving? It was gone.
I was moving forward.
The peaceful beauty of early mornings energized me. Even though I’d just spent the last six or seven hours immersed in dreams, I didn’t feel fully awake until I had my morning tea in hand, watching the scene in front of me. Outside my window, I watched the sun begin to bathe everything it touched in a soft glow, and slowly, the city began to come alive.
This was exactly where I’d been last week when I got that phone call from Ray, but this day was going to be different. This day was going to be good, because life was good.
I’d slept peacefully last night in the brownstone, for the first time since the breakup. My store had a big order of new lingerie coming in today, and I was getting the prototypes in from a designer I was working with for an exclusive Scantilily line. I couldn’t wait to feel that silk and lace in my hands.
And, I looked damned go
od today, thanks to my breakup diet of water and coffee. I pulled my mass of kinky natural hair into a huge puff on top of my head, put on big earrings, eyeliner and lip gloss, and I was done.
I tied myself into a floral wrap dress in bright colors that reflected the mood I was trying to get into, double-checked my laptop bag and purse, then went downstairs to lock up and head out. I tossed my bags onto the passenger seat, climbed into “Big Baby”, the deep magenta bubble Chevy I’d been driving since college. Put my key into the ignition, and turned.
Nothing happened.
Big Baby didn’t come on.
I tried it a few more times, begged and pleaded with her, then pulled out my phone to call a tow truck, and a cab.
And I reminded myself that despite this, life was good.
“Time for a re-up.”
I looked up from the purchase order slips scattered across my desk and floor to see Yves, one of our sales clerks, standing in the doorway. She was holding out one of the sleek glass trays I used to serve chocolate from one of the local businesses to the customers. The tray was empty, which was good because it meant that the customers were actually eating the candy. Bad, because it meant that it was time to go and get another order, which I didn’t have time for.
Despite my chosen mantra, and trying to reinforce to myself throughout the day that life was good, I had a problem.
Well, more than one actually.
The first was my car being stupid on me this morning, which completely threw me off schedule. Tow trucks, and cabs, and car rental companies… I’d spent entirely too much time, entirely too early, focusing on things with wheels and motors.
When I finally made it into the store, I was met by a frantic Ayden, shoving packing slips in my face. Apparently, the list of items we requested had been completely ignored, and the company we’d ordered from had just shoved a bunch of lingerie in the box and sent it, hoping something would stick. So now, we had to go through everything, compare to what we actually ordered, and send all the extra back.
I was irritated, cranky, and hungry because the little drama with my car had caused me to choose between getting to the store and having breakfast. Breakfast lost.
“I’ll do it,” I said, dropping a pile of neon lace thongs on top of my desk. “I need to get out of here for a second anyway.”
Ayden nodded, sending her silky bob gliding around her pretty bronze-toned face. “Go, please. It’s been a rough morning, you need the break. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
Ayden wrinkled her face at me. “Uhh, yeah? I’m pretty sure this is what you pay me for, so if I ain’t got it… I need to be reconsidering my job. Go. It’s almost lunch time anyway.”
After a little more prodding, I left the sorting of inventory to Ayden, and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. I loved this neighborhood, and today was one of those days where the neighborhood loved me back. It was a beautiful out. The sun was shining, a cool breeze was in the air, the delicious aroma from Urban Grind was traveling through the neighborhood, the—
“Aye, walk that fine ass past here again so I can get a second look.”
“Gahhhhdamn, do you see the ass on her? Whew.”
The unfortunately common groups of catcalling men were out.
I rolled my eyes as I passed the construction zone not far from my store. When I’d leased space for Scantilily, the area now occupied by scaffolding, heavy tools and crude men in construction hats had been the site of two businesses. A dry cleaners, and Pot Liquor, which was a modern soul food restaurant I’d frequented before both businesses were destroyed by a fire. The only thing separating Scantilily from the dry cleaner’s was a tiny furniture store that had taken some minimal structural damage as well.
I’d barely had my business open a month when the fire happened, and a lot of my inventory had been ruined by smoke damage. The building could have been destroyed, or my expensive shelving, or the computers I kept there. I could have lost the entire inventory. But I didn’t.
Because life was good.
Five months had passed since the fire, and now the demolished area was contained by a big chain-link fence, with a sign affixed to it that said “New and Improved Pot Liquor, coming soon!” They were taking over the whole space to expand the restaurant, for an even more successful business, so I think they’d agree that life was good as well. In any case, I got myself past the catcalling construction workers as quickly as I could, and was about to step into Urban Grind – the large corner coffee shop that anchored the neighborhood – for a sandwich when I nearly bumped into Charlie.
Charlie was one-half of the ownership of Pot Liquor, and very, very pregnant, with twins. She had deep roots in this neighborhood, but had only recently moved back herself – a few months before I came to town. She and the other business owners on the block had been a great help to me, by showing me around and making themselves available, to a point that I was surrounded by friendly faces. Their warmth had been comforting through the loneliness of moving to a completely new place, and some of the relationships I’d built were well on their way to becoming great friendships. Charlie was one of those.
Right now though, she was lurking in the entryway of Urban Grind, peeking around the corner to catch glimpses of the construction site.
“Charlie, girl… what are you doing?” I asked, as she grabbed my hand, pulling me under the covered entrance to the coffee shop with her.
“Shhh,” she said, holding a finger in front of her lips. “I’m trying to see what’s happening with the building. I overheard Nix on the phone a few minutes ago, so I know something is wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t he tell you?”
“I have no idea.” She peeked around the corner again, and then suddenly shrank back as somebody exited the coffee shop. “Some bullshit about not stressing me out because of the babies.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “So, what you’re saying is, your husband is – reasonably – trying to filter the amount of stressful information that gets to you because you’re six months pregnant with his twins?”
Charlie turned to me, with her face pulled into a scowl. “Whose side are you on?”
“My stomach’s,” I laughed. “I’ll have to catch you another time, I’m starving.”
“Wait, wait!” Charlie grabbed my arm, pulling me toward her again. “I need you to walk past there again and tell me what you see.”
“I see a bunch of sweaty men with dirty minds. Why don’t you just walk past yourself?”
She sighed, then rested herself against the brick storefront. “Because Nixon will kill me if he sees me at this construction site, especially without him. Something about ‘breathing in concrete dust, messing up his babies’ lungs.’ He’s so dramatic.”
“I don’t see any dust floating around.”
“Exactly.” She nodded, then peeked around the corner again. “But still, I need you to—”
Charlie stopped talking as my phone began to chime in my purse. It took me a couple of seconds of digging to get it, so I pushed the button to answer the call as soon as it was in my hand so I wouldn’t miss the call. Then my mind registered the name on the screen.
I should have just missed the damn call.
“Fallon, I really thought we’d be capable of handling this like adults, but I guess I thought wrong, huh?”
That was the first thing Ray thought it was appropriate to say to me, a week after he broke my heart in the wee hours of the morning, over the phone. I rolled my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers, trying to stave off the immediate headache that started building at the sound of his voice.
“What the hell are you talking about, Ray? We haven’t even spoken since you decided you didn’t want to be together anymore.”
“Your brother.”
Ohhh, shit.
My little brother, Donnie – or Don Juan as he, to my embarrassment and disgust, called himself – was never a fan of Ray. My b
rother was disturbingly handsome, charming, well educated, and according to Ray, a troublemaker. But Donnie wasn’t. He just… made trouble for Ray.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, even though I could imagine. Two days ago, Donnie had called me in the middle of a little sob session, and despite my efforts no to alert him that anything was wrong, he was onto me about five seconds into our conversation. I told him what happened with Ray, and made him promise to leave it alone.
Apparently, he had not left it alone.
“He was waiting for me, this morning. In front of my job, Fallon. Threatened to kick my ass in front of my boss, and coworkers.”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “So what, Ray? It’s not the first time he’s threatened you.”
“In front of the people I work with, it is. I just got out of a meeting with my boss, where I had to sit and stew while I was berated for my personal issues coming into my workplace.”
“Oh boo–hoo! What do expect me to do about it?”
He huffed into the phone. “I expect you to call off your damn dogs. Is somebody going to be waiting when I leave for lunch? Or—wait, are you trying to sabotage me because we broke up?”
“You’re giving yourself way more shine time in my thoughts than you actually get, if you’re implying that I asked him to say anything to you. I have better things to do than send my relatives to berate you. And why would I send him to the firm anyway? Donnie knows where the apartment is. He would have looked for you there.”
“I guess he came to the firm because I wasn’t at the apartment last night, I was at my gi—I mean, my coworker’s—”
I swallowed hard as Ray sighed, then cut himself off, realizing he’d said more than he should. I pressed the inside corners of my eyes, trying unsuccessfully to stall the flow of tears. I’d suspected another woman, but having it confirmed, especially that it was a coworker, and I knew exactly who… that may have been the moment I really decided I hated him.
The Way Love Goes (Serendipitous Love Book 4) Page 2
