Playing the Hand You're Dealt

by Trice Hickman

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Baldwin,” the man standing next to the server spoke.

  Brenda turned her attention to the deep voice that she remembered from the phone. The man was immaculately dressed in a tailored navy suit. His dazzling smile and smooth ebony-hued skin made her lose her train of thought. He extended his large hand, shaking hers with a gentle grip.

  “My name is Harry Winston, and I’m the room service manager. This is the meal you ordered,” the handsome man offered. “I took the liberty of enhancing your dining experience to amend for the inconvenience we may have caused with the initial mix-up.” He motioned with his right hand, directing the server to remove the lids of the covered dishes for Brenda’s inspection.

  In addition to the salmon Dijon, wild rice, asparagus with hollandaise, and the bottle of chardonnay that Brenda had ordered, there was a platter of fresh fruit and imported cheeses, chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and a small vase of beautifully arranged flowers.

  “I hope this is to your liking,” the manager said.

  It took Brenda a second to respond. “Um, yes.This looks fine.”

  “We’re glad you’re pleased,” the manager said. “This meal is on me.”

  After Brenda inspected the food, she escorted the two men to the door. As they were on their way out, the manager stopped and turned toward her, letting the server float out into the hallway. “Again, I apologize for the inconvenience and I hope you enjoy your dinner.”

  Brenda smiled. “Thank you, I’m sure I will.” She didn’t know what possessed her to say what came out of her mouth next, but before she could stop herself she purred in a playful tone, “With a name like Harry Winston, you could be a girl’s best friend.”

  She shocked herself, and couldn’t believe she had said something so flirtatious, and to the help of all people! She wondered if he had even caught the meaning behind her tease.

  The manager nodded and smiled. “Yes, but even the rarest of jewels can’t compare to the gift of meeting a new friend, especially one as beautiful as you,” he said in a smooth, even tone.

  His remark startled Brenda, but then she reminded herself that she should’ve known he would understand. Working in a luxury hotel, he was bound to know a little something about Harry Winston, one of the most exclusive jewelers of rare gemstones in the world. It was every hotel manager’s job, regardless of their department, to understand the needs of their discriminating guests. “Thank you.” Brenda blushed.

  Harry looked deep into her eyes and gave Brenda a smile that made her body tingle. “Again, I hope you enjoy your meal, and please make sure to call and let me know if everything meets with your satisfaction.” He bowed his head slightly before walking away.

  After Brenda closed the door, she stood in place for a moment, feeling light and free. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. She pulled the desk chair up to the cart and began to eat her meal. In no time she devoured her entire entrée and side dishes along with half the chocolate-covered strawberries. Brenda shook her head when she realized she’d just broken a rule that she’d adhered to for over thirty years—to never clean her plate. It was one of the practices that helped her maintain her slim figure. She always left food on her plate regardless of how tasty the dish, but tonight she’d eaten until the last drop of hollandaise sauce disappeared. She wondered where her ferocious appetite had come from.

  Brenda walked over to the chair in the corner and sipped her chardonnay as she thought about Harry Winston. She hadn’t been this excited about anything or anyone since she could remember, not even one of her parties.

  She’d done her share of flirting over the years and had come close to taking it to the next level on a few occasions. But she ran in small circles and knew those trails could easily lead back to her doorstep. So she was always careful to stop things before they grew out of control, limiting her escapades to heavy fondling, and in exceptional cases, a quick romp of oral sex. In her book, that didn’t qualify as real sex; even Bill Clinton had said so. Her discipline was one of the many qualities upon which she prided herself. Unlike her husband, who’d been weak to the flesh of others, actually committing full-fledged adultery, she had remained true to the vow of fidelity she’d taken thirty-two years ago—at least in her mind.

  Brenda remembered the first time she learned of one of Ed’s affairs. She was furious and couldn’t believe that with her good looks, charm, and sophistication, Ed had been stupid enough to risk their marriage over a hot-to-trot tennis instructor. But her anger soon calmed because after seeing the woman, she realized that the only draw for Ed had been the easy convenience and well-toned body that the woman possessed. She was no real threat, so Brenda let it go, as she did one or two others she’d discovered. They may have had their fun with him, but she had his last name and his money.

  But Brenda also knew she had to teach Ed a lesson. She forgave him, but he needed to pay for his infidelity, so they began counseling—her way of punishing him.They attended therapy sessions for three weeks before Brenda realized it had been a big mistake on her part.The therapist wasn’t helpful at all, and had actually inflicted more damage on their marriage.

  During one particular visit, the therapist asked them to trace their relationship back to the reasons why they had married in the first place. Brenda nearly had a stroke when the woman made pointed suggestions, alluding to the possibility that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose to coerce Ed into marrying her. After the session ended, Brenda stormed out of the office, never to return. She knew the homely, bifocaled therapist could never understand that sometimes a woman had to do what she had to do. It had nothing to do with entrapment, but everything to do with executing a strategy.

  Satisfied from her full stomach and delicious meal, Brenda let out a small sigh, followed by a devilish grin as she thought about a new strategy formulating in her mind. She had a growing desire to see Harry Winston again.

  Chapter 11

  Emily . . .

  Standing in My Friend’s Shoes

  Today was one of the most wonderful yet intensely exhausting days of my life, and it all started yesterday when Samantha came walking into my empty, newly renovated home and shouted, “Surprise!” as Bradley walked in behind her. I was unpacking a box and was so stunned that I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Bradley was the last person I had expected to see.

  Samantha had been trying to play matchmaker for me, and because her other efforts to hook me up hadn’t worked out, she decided to contact Bradley. I couldn’t believe she didn’t warn me first, but instead of getting upset, I bit my lower lip and tried to be polite.

  A part of me felt guilty about the constant communication I had been having with Bradley. After I sent him the card and fruit basket last month to thank him for the wonderful design work he’d done, he called and thanked me back, beginning a series of nightly phone conversations.

  Talking to Bradley felt comfortable and allowed me to open up about things. I told him about the loneliness I felt without my mother, the adjustment of starting a new job, and the frustration of getting the house in order. Samantha and Ms. Gerti had been wonderful and supportive, but I didn’t want to constantly unload my burdens on them, so I accepted Bradley’s calls. It was something I now regretted. I knew it was selfish, and that was why I felt so guilty. Although I had made it clear to him that I wasn’t interested in resuming a romantic relationship, I had used him as a sounding board, knowing deep down that he wanted more.

  Earlier in the morning when Samantha and I walked around the corner to Starbucks to get coffee and danishes before everyone arrived, I told her where things stood. “Even if I wanted to be with Bradley, which I don’t, I’m living here now and it wouldn’t be fair to him because he doesn’t like long-distance relationships.”

  “Girl, if you took him back he’d quit his job, sell his house, pack his shit, and move straight up I-395 in a heartbeat,” she said. “He even told me that he’s looking at jobs up here.Whe
n are you gonna realize that you got it like that?”

  Having it like that with Bradley wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was right in front of me.What I wanted was exhilarating, if not exceptional. What I wanted was the only man who had ever been able to stir the intoxicating blend of love and lust deep inside me that made me feel whole each time the sound of my name escaped his lips. What I wanted was her father. But how in the world would I ever be able to look Samantha in the eye and tell her the truth?

  When we returned to my house with breakfast goodies in hand, it was Samantha’s turn to experience shock. We walked through the door to find her ex-boyfriend, Tyler Jacobs, shaking hands with her new man, Tyme Alexander! Samantha looked as if she’d seen a ghost. It was one of the very few times she’d ever been rendered speechless. I had to admit I was shocked, too. Samantha’s face went pale and I had to remind her to breathe.

  After tense introductions were made, it became obvious to Tyme that his new woman had a past with Tyler. I pulled Samantha into the kitchen so she could gather herself. “Just relax, it’s going to be all right.”

  “It’s not that easy,” she sighed with anxiety. “How would you feel if you were in the same room with one man who you’d slept with and another who you planned to sleep with?”

  I had no idea that ten minutes later I’d be standing in my friend’s shoes.

  Half of me had hoped that Ed would come by today, and the other half prayed he wouldn’t. When he walked in I could see his eyes search the room as he scanned all the men until he landed on Bradley. He was trying to place him, and when he did, I saw the memory register in his steel-trap mind. Although they’d never met, I knew Ed recognized him as the man who’d held my hand as I cried on his shoulder during my mother’s funeral. Ed noticed everything.

  When the guys began to unload my furniture from the rented U–Haul, my mouth went dry when I saw Ed and Bradley bringing in my sofa, chitchatting like old friends. I could see that Ed was questioning him like a witness on the stand because Bradley was doing most of the talking, responding to what I knew were carefully crafted questions on Ed’s part. He was like that. He could get you to talk about things without you ever realizing you were giving him information. He had done the same thing to me a few times.

  Bradley must have given him an earful because Ed kept glancing at me all day with an expression that I couldn’t quite place. It was unnerving. My only relief was that I had a house full of people to distract from the effect that he always had on me. At one point, Ruben asked if I was okay. I made up an excuse, telling him I was a little tired from all the moving.

  After a full day of sweaty, back-breaking labor, we finally emptied the entire truck of all my things. Slowly, the room cleared as everyone began to head out, tired from hours of rigorous lifting. Bradley asked me to join him and his relatives for dinner, but I declined. Although he was disappointed he took it in stride, understanding that I had lots of work left to do. I invited him over tomorrow, and that seemed to lift his spirits. But I knew his enthusiasm would be short-lived because I planned to reiterate that while I appreciated his friendship, that was all we would ever have.

  Finally, my house was empty, except for Ed and me. He offered to stay and put together my new computer desk in my home office. After he finished he came downstairs looking slightly tired but still devastatingly handsome. I stopped the work I was doing and offered him my thanks along with a cool drink. I thought I’d be nervous with just the two of us in the house, but to my surprise I wasn’t. Just as I had welcomed Bradley’s unsolicited calls, I welcomed Ed’s company.

  We sat on crates beside each other and laughed and talked for an hour. It was the first time we’d ever engaged so much and for so long without me feeling uneasy. Generally, being around him had always carried a strained and tiring fatigue, having to keep up a veil of pretense that hid my longing. But last night I felt like I could be myself—my goofy, silly, dry witted self. I showed Ed the real me and he liked it.

  But suddenly our conversation took a serious turn, on his prompting. He brought up Bradley and his suspicion that my ex wanted more than just friendship. He said he’d only mentioned it because he cared about me. I smiled inside and told him that I knew he did. Our words echoed in my ear because they were revealing.

  All the doubts and questions I had concerning the way Ed felt about me were erased. We confirmed our feelings without being specific. We didn’t have to spell it out because it was already there—on my face, in his eyes, lying on our tongues ready to leap forward. After eleven years, we finally acknowledged what had been hanging over us. But very quickly our moment returned to the undeniable heat that always managed to rise between us, pulling us back to the sensible side of ourselves that protected us from making a mistake.

  When Ed told me he had to leave, I knew that he didn’t really want to go. I didn’t want him to leave either, but we both knew it was for the best. I closed the door and watched from my window as he drove away, all the while my heart still pounding as if he were standing next to me. A half hour later my phone rang.

  “Girl, I’m in love!” Samantha yelled into my ear.

  “With who?”

  “Who do you think?” She laughed. “Tyler and I are back together, just like that,” she sang through the phone.

  “I knew it, I knew it! I could see something brewing between you two the minute you laid eyes on each other, and so could everyone else, for that matter.” Then a thought occurred to me. “What about Tyme?”

  “Like you said, everyone saw it, and he did, too. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  “Wow,” was all I could say.

  Samantha went on to tell me how she and Tyler had rekindled their flame, and she was going to see where it would lead. After we ended our call, I opened the lone bottle of wine that I’d stored in my refrigerator, poured a glass, and then went upstairs to relax in my tub. I drew a hot bath and soaked. The welcoming water felt good to my skin. I was happy for my best friend, but I was also excited for myself. I smiled at the thought of Ed, and how much I wanted him to hold me, how good it would feel to rest in his arms. Now that we’d all but verbally confirmed our attraction, I didn’t have a clue about our next move, or if there would even be one. I knew he cared about me, he’d said that, but it didn’t necessarily mean love. And I certainly couldn’t speculate on how it translated to his marriage.

  Ed’s marriage was the colorful elephant I’d danced around for years. Rather than think about Brenda, I concerned myself with how Samantha would react if she found out that I was in love with her father. Focusing on Samantha’s feelings helped to absolve me from my guilt of wanting to engage in a relationship with a married man. Either way, I knew I was caught in a no-win situation.

  After what seemed like hours, I rose from the tub and wrapped a big, soft towel around my tired body. I walked over to my suitcase, rummaged through the pile of clothes inside, and pulled out a pair of panties and a T-shirt. I slipped them on, secured my hair into a ponytail, and then crawled into bed.

  As I relaxed under my fresh-smelling sheets, all I could think about was Ed, and what I would do the next time I saw him.Then a thought crossed my mind. Besides the birthday party next weekend, when would I see him again? Now that I was no longer living in his house, our interaction would be limited. When I was under his roof I had avoided him, but now that I was in my own place I wanted to see him. I’d been so preoccupied with moving out that I hadn’t thought about the trade-off—not seeing Ed on a daily basis.The relief I thought I’d feel was replaced by a sudden sadness. I couldn’t win for losing.

  As I closed my eyes and settled into sleep, I let my worries drift away with the rest of my tired muscles. And like that, I stopped worrying about the future of my relationship with Ed and what it might hold. After the moment we shared tonight, anything was possible. My dreams could come true or my nightmares could spring to life.Today was over and tomorrow was a new beginning.

  Chapter 12

  Sama
ntha . . .

  That Was All I Needed to Hear

  I was like my father, in the sense that not too much could throw me off my game. But when I looked dead into the eyes of the only man besides my daddy whom I had ever loved, respected, and admired, I felt as if I was going to lose my balance. There in front of me stood Tyler Jacobs. Over the years, I wondered from time to time if I would ever see him again, but I tried not to dwell on the thought because of the hurt and pain I had caused him.

  Emily and I had just returned from a Starbucks run when we walked into her living room and saw Tyme shaking my ex-boyfriend’s hand. “There’s my girl,”Tyme called out to me as Emily and I hesitated for a moment, completely at a loss for words. Tyme introduced me to his cousin, Jason, but when he attempted to do the same with Tyler, that’s when things got funky.

  “No need for intros.” Tyler smiled as he looked into my eyes and extended his hand. “Samantha and I are old friends.”

  Even though Tyler’s statement was casual, it was loaded with meaning, and Tyme could sense it along with everyone else in the room. When I shook Tyler’s hand I felt a strong, liquid heat spread through my body . . . and I hadn’t even touched my coffee! At that moment I knew it was going to be a long day.Thank goodness for Emily. She carted me off to the kitchen, calmed me down, and gave me the encouragement I needed to go back out and face the music and the men.

  A minute later we heard the doorbell ring and I sprang forward, glad to have a distraction. I greeted Emily’s flaming next-door neighbor and his fine-ass boyfriend as they breezed into the room. Another round of introductions was made, but it did nothing to cut the tension that filled the air. I decided to focus on the brazen Latin lover and his man, who looked like a dead ringer for Tyson Beckford.