by Tina Martin
“You just can’t leave it alone, can you?” Carter asked, taking a hard look at his friend.
“I think it’s important that I find out some information on this girl…in case you come up missing.”
Carter grinned. “She’s twenty-six, Tee, and harmless.”
“She ain’t got no family ‘round here?”
“Nope.” Carter bit into a chip. “None that I’m aware of.”
“That’s why you helping her? Can’t find any of her folks?”
“No. I’m helping her because I want to.”
“Really?” Terrance asked. He’d never seen Carter help anyone in this manner. Carter was always a showoff – the man who would give a taxi cab driver a fifty-dollar bill just for driving him five miles up the street, the man who left pretty waitresses hefty tips, the man who bought rounds of drinks for everybody at the club – not the man who rehabilitated homeless women in the privacy of his own home. Something else was up.
“Tee, let’s just play cards.”
Terrance stared at him hard. “Wait a second…wait…a…second. I know that look.”
“What you talking about now, man?”
“That look on your face. You like her! Are you feeling her, dawg?”
As much as Carter wanted to, he couldn’t withhold a smile. “She’s good company. I’ll leave it at that.”
Terrance got up, walked to the fridge and grabbed more beers. “Forget cards. This night just got a lot more interesting.” He placed two beers on the table, ready to interrogate Carter a little further. “So you actually like her?”
Carter turned the beer bottle up to his mouth and took a drink. “Yeah. I like her.”
“How much do you like her?”
“What do you mean, man?”
“I mean, do you like her, like her?”
Carter smiled. “Tee, what are you—”
“Oh shoot! You trying to get with her, playa? That’s why you moved her in your crib, ain’t it? Now you got her all to yourself. Easy access on the low-low.”
“Nah. It’s not like that,” Carter chimed in. “I like her as a friend. I care about her.”
“You what!” Terrance yelled after he swallowed beer. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The friend who swore up and down he would never, ever, ever, ever fall in love?”
“I didn’t say I was in love with her. I said I care about her.”
“Same thang.”
“Nah, it’s not the same thing,” Carter retorted.
“You tell me how that’s not the same thang.”
Carter grinned a little. “Listen, man. My heart went out to her—”
“Oh, lawd! This man is in love,” Terrance said loudly, then stood, clapped his hands like he was in a church choir. “Can I get a witness up in here!”
“Tee, keep your voice down, man. Exactly how many beers have you had?”
Terrance sat down and looked at Carter. “Out of the ten years I’ve known you, I have never, I repeat, never heard you use the word heart in a sentence.”
Carter laughed it off. “Which card game we playing first?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should leave. I feel like a third wheel now. You probably wanna be in there with ya girl.”
“She’s not my girl. Plus, she’s off limits.”
Terrance frowned then smacked his lips. “Off limits? What does that mean to you?”
“Means that even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t pursue her.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s off limits. Now, can we play cards?”
“Forget the cards.” Terrance slid the deck of cards in his pocket. “Talk to me man, ‘cause you got a brother worried with this strange behavior.”
“There’s nothing strange. I simply won’t pursue her. She’s a friend. I care about her. She’s gonna stay with me until she gets back on her feet and that’s that. Now are we playing or what?”
“Ah’ight,” Terrance said, pulling the cards from his pocket and began shuffling. “Since y’all just friends, you won’t mind if I holla at her then?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” Terrance laughed. “She’s single right? Why can’t I holla?”
“Because you can’t. You gon’ have to sow your wild oats elsewhere, playa.”
Terrance smirked. “Yeah…whatever you say man. Now I know you like that girl.”
Carter picked up his cards, went through the motions of playing a game and kickin’ it with his boy until he couldn’t hold back his feelings any longer. Three beers and four card games later, he looked at Terrance. “Let me ask you something. What if I did like Shayla? What would you think about it?”
“Oh…got a few brews in ya and now the truth comes out, huh?”
“I’m just asking, hypothetically.”
Terrance thought for a second. “I don’t know, man.” But he did know. He knew the caliber of women that Carter was able to obtain and Shayla was not that. She wasn’t a ten. Maybe a low eight, but definitely not a ten.
“So you wouldn’t you think I’m crazy?”
Terrance dropped his cards. “Honestly, dawg, I’ve seen you pull some real dimes with bangin’ bodies…not to say Shayla’s not pretty and all but you’ve had plenty of women who looked way better.”
“Looks aren’t everything.”
“So says the man who told me he only dealt with model types.”
Carter couldn’t dispute it because he had said that several times. And who knew him better than Terrance? “Shayla’s more than just the way she looks. She’s a sweet girl.”
“And that, my friend, is the problem…she’s a girl.”
“She’s twenty-six, Tee.”
“And you’re thirty-five. Listen, man. Men our age need the whole package, not a twenty-six-year-old with just a cute face. We need the kind of chick who knows what she wants out of life…independent, direct, straightforward women. My first impression of Shayla is that she has no clue what she wants. Don’t get me wrong, she seems like a sweet girl, but she’s not the kind of woman you usually go for. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”
“What kind of women do I go for?”
“Well, Camille for example. Now, she was hot…nice body, great smile. Wasn’t she an attorney or something?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then Julissa…don’t know why you dissed that girl. She was gorgeous…was about to finish medical school if I remember correctly.”
Carter sat back in his chair, relaxed. He was hearing everything Terrance said, but in his mind, Shayla was more to him than those women. Than any woman. “She sent me roses a few days ago.”
“Who? Julissa?”
“No. Shayla. She actually sent me roses…never had a woman do that for me. Never had a woman cook for me.”
“Maybe she’s doing that so you don’t kick her out. If I was living with you and didn’t have no money or no place to go, I’d cook for you too, dawg,” Terrance said then chuckled. “I ain’t sending you no flowers, but I’d definitely cook some hotdogs, burnt bologna or something.”
Carter smirked. “She doesn’t do things for me because she wants something in return.”
“If you say so.”
“She doesn’t. I opened a bank account for her back in March…put five thousand dollars in there. You know how much money is still in there?”
“Wait…you gave this chick five-thousand dollars?”
“Well, I put it in an account for her to use. You know how much is in the account as we speak?”
“How much?” Terrance asked, even though he was trippin’ off the fact that Carter gave her that much money.
“Forty-five hundred dollars. The only thing she buys is gas for the car, food for the house and a few other things she needs from time to time. She doesn’t care about the money…didn’t run off buying earrings, bags, perfume and clothes. If that was any other woman – Julissa, Camille, whoever – you know all that money would be go
ne by now.”
“Yeah, but fair is fair, Carter. When you out here wining and dining these women and they give you what you want, why shouldn’t you buy them what they want? You know the rules of the game.”
“You right, man. You right. But that’s played out now. At what point does a woman actually look at me and see me. I’m not an A.T.M. machine.”
“Then don’t act like one.”
Carter sat up tall. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, look at you, dawg. You pushing a Cadillac truck, living in this…this mansion.”
“It’s not a mansion.”
“You got a fully loaded Lexus—”
“Shayla drives that now, so you might as well say that’s her car.”
Terrance looked confused and kept making his point. “You wearing Louis Vuitton this, Ralph Lauren that…leaving these extravagant tips, buying out the bar…gold diggers can smell your money a mile away.”
Carter grinned uncomfortably.
“So what do they do next?” Terrance continued. “They approach…see what you’re working with…what your game is and once you fall for their smooth seduction, the money comes flying out and boom! Carter Bank & Trust has officially been breached.”
“You a fool, man,” Carter said cracking up.
“And if you think Shayla’s no different, you better think again.”
“Nah,” Carter said. “She is different.”
“You sure about that?”
A confident smile swept across Carter’s face. “I’m sure.”
“Maybe so, but still, man, she’s not—”
“She’s not what?”
“Your type. She’s not…um…how do I put this delicately?” Terrance thought for a moment because he knew Carter liked Shayla. So treading softly, he said, “She’s not on your level.”
“Oh, so she’s not good enough for me is what you’re saying?”
“You said she was homeless. How’s it gonna look if you start introducing this woman to your colleagues? What you gonna tell them when they ask how y’all met? You gotta think about stuff like that.”
Carter leaned back in his seat again.
Terrance took a sip of beer. “Look, man. I know you. This thing you’re doing for her has to be a mid-life crisis type deal.”
“Mid-life crisis, Tee? I’m thirty-five.” Carter laughed.
“Well all I’m saying is, you never fall for any woman, let alone bring a homeless person home to live with you. You don’t even speak to homeless people. At least you didn’t use to.”
“I’ve kissed her.” Carter watched Terrance’s mouth fall open. “I’ve kissed her several times, actually, and each time I felt the earth quaking underneath my feet. I never had the desire to do that with another woman.”
Terrance frowned. “But you had the desire to lock lips with a homeless woman?”
“Will you stop calling her that?”
“My bad…”
“And in answer to your question, yes. I had the desire to kiss her and I loved it.”
“Well, still, I don’t think she’s the exception because she cooks for you, sends flowers, doesn’t spend your money and kisses you until the earth breaks apart underneath your feet. Okay, maybe she is the exception.” Terrance laughed.
Carter laughed too.
“Or maybe you’re confusing things because you’re helping her.”
Carter considered telling Terrance a little more about who Shayla really was but quickly erased the thought from his mind. He would probably flip out had he known that Shayla was Jacob’s fiancé and Carter wasn’t in the mood for more of his friend’s drama and interrogation. So instead, he said, “Yeah, you’re probably right,” even though he knew his friend was wrong. There was something more with Shayla. Something deeper. “Anyway, like I said before…she’s off limits. I just wanted to know your thoughts.”
“Ah’ight man,” Terrance said picking up the deck of cards.
Thirty minutes later, after they’d played a few more games, Terrance left. Carter collected beer bottles from the table and tossed them in the trash. He jogged upstairs, checked on Shayla before stepping in his room, lying on the bed, face-to-ceiling, thinking about her yet again.
Chapter 23
May 2010
Summer was quickly approaching. Dogwood trees budding, wild flowers stretching for the sun, birds singing harmoniously into the sky – hot weather was just around the corner. The temperature had consistently been in the lower eighties, dropping to the upper sixties only at night. Along with the heat waves, a new beginning was stirring for Shayla. She’d gotten her head on straight, thanks to coaching from Carter. He filtered her mind of negativity, made her see that it was possible to move on after losing everything. He’d given her so much more.
From day one he welcomed her with free reign to his home and now, seeing she was seriously considering floral design he helped to support her dream by studying with her. They watched YouTube videos on flower arranging, and the thing he did that really blew her away was order ten bouquets of flowers – lilies, tulips, roses, daisies, orchids – all for her to practice. He even had them delivered with sweet little notes like I’m so proud of you and pretty flowers for a pretty lady. Carter was indeed a charmer.
That same day, he’d helped her arrange them, they both playing like children in the kitchen tossing green stems at each other followed by Carter securing her in a tight embrace near the fridge, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his chest. He couldn’t help but wonder what Jacob would’ve thought of him if he could see this. But maybe it was senseless to care so much about what a deceased person thought. Or, maybe it was his own guilt that made him constantly question himself. Either way it went, he was falling for her. And if he couldn’t stop himself, no one else would.
* * *
Shayla sat in the den alone, browsing Central Piedmont Community College’s floral design class offerings on Carter’s laptop when she heard the doorbell. Carter had been at the office since noon, busy with urgent meetings and other things he had to wrap up.
Shayla checked her watch. It was close to eight. She set the laptop on the couch and walked a few steps to the front door. Maybe it was Jacqueline stopping by for a pop-up visit. Standing on her tiptoes, she peeped through the small window at the top of the door and was surprised to see a tall, strikingly gorgeous woman standing there. She looked like she’d just walked off of an America’s Next Top Model set.
Shayla opened the door. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah. Who are you? The housekeeper? Carter didn’t tell me he hired a housekeeper.”
Shayla frowned at the woman. “No, I’m not the—”
“Anyway, sweetie, I’m looking for Carter,” the woman rudely interrupted with her British accent to boot.
“My name is Shayla, and Carter is not here yet. Did you try his cell?” Shayla asked to see how well the woman was connected with Carter. If she had his cell, chances were, she knew him pretty well. Besides, she already knew where he lived.
“I just called his cell, but it went straight to voicemail…tried the office too. Do you know where he could be? He’s usually not late for our dates.”
“Dates?” Shayla said crestfallen, her heart beating fast at the thought that Carter had been seeing this woman behind her back.
“Oh, yes. We usually meet at The Blake Hotel, but he wasn’t there this time so I figured I’d come by here.”
“Oh,” Shayla said, feeling jealous, betrayed and somewhat queasy. Carter said he never had any of his ‘women’ by the house. Now Shayla knew that was a lie. What else had he lied about?
“Anyway, can you give him this?” She handed Shayla a brown expanding file folder.
Shayla took it and swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’ll make sure he gets it. Oh and I didn’t get your name.”
“Genevieve. And tell him I dropped by?” She flashed her perfectly aligned white teeth that somehow made her fake, condescending smile look believ
able.
“Okay. I’ll tell him,” Shayla said faintly, completely chagrined by Genevieve’s presence. She watched her walk away in a white blouse, a tight black pencil skirt, seven-inch red heels and a fierce strut. Shayla swung the door shut and dropped the folder on the desk in the foyer.
In that moment, she came to understand what all the women Carter had dealt with before her had concluded – Carter was too good to be true. There was something about him that made her want to believe he’d moved on from the player lifestyle, and was looking for something serious with a woman. Something with meaning. Something with her. But after watching Genevieve leave in her fire truck red Benz, she knew she was nothing in comparison. She was just an experiment for Carter, a way for him to prove to the world he could do something for the betterment of another person. He couldn’t really see the love Shayla felt for him – love that went way beyond a simple attraction between a man and woman. No, this was something deeper, a close friendship that sprung from her personal tragedy. His act of kindness had her feeling things she never thought she’d feel for another man, but found them in him.
Now, she felt betrayed, or perhaps she’d misread his expressions – a hug here, a kiss there – affection that made her heart desire love again. But love really wasn’t Carter’s intention and it was her fault for confusing his generosity with feelings that just weren’t there.
Still disappointed, wandering around the house thinking about how Genevieve and Carter must’ve found their way to The Blake Hotel by now, having a rendezvous on a king-sized bed in a high-class suite, Shayla went for a walk to clear her head, trying to block out visions of Carter’s lips kissing another woman. But that’s all she could think about – those same sweet lips that kissed her were now on some stuck-up, tight-skirt wearing skank. The more she thought about it the angrier she became, taking longer breaths and harder steps thinking about Carter’s lie. Yeah, he was working late all right…if you call ‘working late’ putting in overtime at The Blake with black Barbie.
I must’ve been a fool to think he actually liked me, Shayla thought as she stomped down the dark street uninterrupted. “I’m so stupid,” she said loud enough so only she could hear, coming to this somewhat harsh realization.
