Fancy exhaled and said, “Issues. Love. Job. You name it. Family issues, too. That’s if I include Caroline.” An icebreaker would be better than starting off telling SaVoy her real problems, but where should Fancy start?
Fancy occasionally looked out over the water as she drove across the San Rafael Bridge. The same bridge she crossed while giving Byron a blow job. Now she hadn’t heard from him since his so-called emergency. But that was all right. Mrs. Lee would soon meet Fancy Taylor. Fancy bounced to the tune of Missy Elliot playing in her head.
“Okay, and? I know something is bothering you.”
“You’re right. There’s no way I’m going to end up a single old maid like Caroline. This year is my year to get married, settle down, and start having crumb-snatchers, in that order. I love men, and although I am discriminating, I don’t discriminate. As long as the dick is permanently attached at birth—none of that ‘I was born a woman now I wanna be a man’ bullshit—it doesn’t matter. Girl, he can even be bisexual. I really don’t care as long as his ass is rich.”
Fancy merged onto Highway 101.
SaVoy shook her head. “Now you’re not making any sense.”
Fancy held the directions, periodically glancing down, then focusing on the road signs.
“I’m trying to give you the history first. After profiling over two dozen men, I figured one package of testosterone was suitable for marriage.”
Pleased that she’d found the Sunday Morning restaurant, Fancy pulled into the paved parking lot. The building sat isolated on its own cliff overlooking the ocean.
“Whoa, the view is gorgeous,” SaVoy said, admiring the hillside.
With two people ahead of them, Fancy turned her back toward them and whispered, “Girl, I’m in my prime and my stuff is so good no man can whiff just once. Which is exactly why I need to find a husband while I’m ripe, right, tender, and tight.”
The couple turned around. Fancy stared at them.
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for in a man. What are you looking for?”
Fancy sang, “That’s because you’re not listening. I want a rich, handsome husband. But all the rich men are either married or gay. Trust me, I’ve done my own survey and my report shows the broke ones are readily available and expect to get laid every time they spend a dime. Like Tyronne. Bump that ’cause as fine and as intelligent as I am I know I deserve better.”
“Now that I do agree with,” SaVoy said. “But why should a rich man be interested in you? And please, let me do the talking when it comes to Tyronne.”
Oh, no she didn’t. Fancy raised her eyebrows and said, “You’re kidding. Right?”
SaVoy set the menu aside and ordered a short stack of hotcakes with potatoes and sausage while Fancy ordered a vegetarian omelet with egg whites. “You’d better start eating less and exercising more or you’re gonna end up like Tanya.”
Conversation during breakfast excluded Byron and Harry. Fancy no longer wanted to discuss her personal issues with Miss Perfect.
After they’d finished eating, Fancy drove along the winding road, twisting and turning for miles until she reached Muir Woods. They had changed clothes in the rest room and locked their bags in the car. Fancy flashed her park pass and said, “Follow me.”
Overlooking the redwood trees in the forest, Fancy stood quietly listening to the steam trickling between the boulders. She smiled thinking about Desmond. She stopped at the top of the mountain wondering in which direction Mrs. Lee lived.
“What happened with your job?”
“I quit,” Fancy said, descending the trail. “I’ve decided to work for myself.”
“Wow, that’s a brave move. Doing what?”
“Commercial real estate sales and purchases.”
“Oh, that reminds me, I’m having dinner with Byron next Friday.”
“Byron who? My Byron?” Fancy continued hiking the narrow trail. The distance between the mountain and the cliff safely accommodated one person.
“Yes, he’s helping me secure financing to buy the building Papa’s leasing. Maybe, if you get a license, you can be my agent.”
“When did all this take place?” Fancy thought SaVoy was her confidante. Having dinner with Byron behind her back was scandalous. It was good that Fancy hadn’t told SaVoy about the rape.
“It’s not like that, Fancy. It’s strictly business. I’m not that kind of friend,” SaVoy said, hiking behind Fancy.
“When did you get his number? How did he get your number?”
“Well, not the same way you did. He gave me his card at my party in front of you. But you were so busy keeping up with Desmond, Caroline, and Carlita, I guess you missed it. Fancy, I don’t want Byron, and I didn’t ask for his help. He offered.”
“Whateva.” Fancy stopped and motioned for SaVoy to stop too. “There’s a yellow jacket nest along the wall.” A dozen fat and yellow wasps were swarming the area. With less than three feet between the nest and cliff, Fancy said, “Don’t panic. When you start walking, keep moving and don’t stop. Just follow my pace.” Fancy stepped briskly between the redwood roots protruding from the ground.
Once they made it beyond the nest, they were silent until SaVoy said, “Isn’t it great Desmond’s finally going to take the law exam?”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Fancy said. When in the hell did Desmond decide to take the test and why hadn’t he told her?
When they exited the park, Fancy leaned over a trash can and heaved several times. Her undigested omelet landed on top of a Sunday newspaper and reminded her of Mrs. Lee.
“Are you okay?” SaVoy said, patting her back. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”
“No. I’m fine. I can drive.” Fancy rinsed her mouth with bottled water, started the engine, and said, “We have one more stop to make.”
CHAPTER 20
Life had a way of showing up with or without Fancy. The child growing inside her would now make her responsible or irresponsible for two lives. This kind of situation was supposed to happen to other women. Fancy had spent so much time trying to get her own life in order that she’d skipped a pill here and missed one there, but when she did remember she doubled her dosage like the nurse suggested. Maybe having a child would help her get serious about her goals instead of talking about them. Here she was, trying to tell Desmond to set his resolutions while most of her resolutions had become a delusion. A mirage. Hidden behind a façade.
“Okay, Fancy. Get serious.” Fancy sat in her car on University Avenue. She was too young to have so many issues. Why was her life so difficult? Why couldn’t she have fun like the U.C. Berkeley students, who were laughing and joking as they traveled in groups toward the campus?
Fancy slipped on her stilettos, grabbed her plastic bag and marker, then strolled across the street.
Beep. Beep. “Hey, Fancy!”
Who was shouting her name in the middle of the street? Fancy kept walking.
“It’s me! Adam!”
Adam? Fancy stood on the embankment and glanced back to the side of the street she’d just crossed. “Hey!” Fancy smiled to conceal her damper emotions. “Call me!”
“Let me make the block. Wait for me.”
Should she wait for Adam when she was five minutes late for her appointment with Mandy? Fancy stood in front of the coffee shop next door to Mandy’s office. Adam parked in the red zone.
“How are you? Girl, you still lookin’ good.”
“I’ve been better. How’s the married life treating you?”
“Not good. She’s always complaining I’m not home enough. I can’t sit at home and make money. A man like me has got to go where his business is. I can’t build a house sitting in my own house. I’m trying very hard to keep her happy. But when that woman gets upset, she cuts me off.” Adam drew an imaginary line across his waist.
Fancy couldn’t lie and say it was good seeing him. She could tell him she was pregnant and that the baby was his. “Adam, it was meant for us to see one another. How els
e could I tell you that I’m pregnant with your child?”
“Hey, hold on a minute. You don’t look pregnant to me and we haven’t been together for”—Adam counted on his fingers—“four months.”
“Bye, Adam.” Fancy entered the coffee shop.
“Wait! Let me park my car! I’ll have a cup of coffee with you!”
As soon as Adam drove around the corner, Fancy dashed into Mandy’s office. The receptionist looked at the clock. “You’re late and Mandy has another appointment in ten minutes. You’re going to have to reschedule.”
Fancy bypassed the receptionist and entered Mandy’s office.
Mandy swiveled in her direction. “Fancy, I have another client in a few minutes so you’ll have to reschedule. Or you can wait. If my ten o’clock doesn’t show by ten after, I can see you then.”
“Why don’t you see me now, and if your ten o’clock shows up, at ten after, I’ll leave.”
Mandy motioned for Fancy to have a seat.
Fancy’s dry eyes looked directly at Mandy. “Harry raped me. Byron won’t return my calls, and I’m pregnant,” Fancy said, holding her flat stomach. She kicked off her shoes and curled her heels underneath her butt.
“Raped? Pregnant? Oh, my gosh, Fancy, no. Did you report this to the police? Is it Harry’s baby? Have you seen a doctor?” Mandy asked.
Mandy had asked so many questions, Fancy became quiet. “I went to the free clinic and still ended up having to pay fifteen dollars for a pregnancy test and consultation. The results came back positive and it’s Byron’s baby.”
“Fancy this is not a game. Did you say Byron because that’s what you want? Or is he really the father? And why did you go to the free clinic instead of going to Kaiser?”
“Oh, and I’m unemployed so I have no medical benefits.” Fancy uncurled her feet, placing them on the floor next to her shoes. “Does it matter who’s the father? Let’s say someone broke into my house and stole all my things. Does it matter if I know the person? The point is my stuff is gone. Right? Maybe now Byron will marry me.” Fancy didn’t tell Mandy that Byron would have to get a divorce first.
“What makes you think it’s Byron’s baby?”
“We always spend time together. He’s always there for me. Besides, he told me he loves me and he wanted me to have his kids.”
“Fancy, a man should never ask you to carry his baby before he asks you to carry his last name. Besides, he’s never there when you need him most.”
“That’s not true. Byron loves me. I’m going to tell him about our baby tonight over dinner.”
“Does Byron know about the rape?”
“No. And I’m not going to tell him.”
“How do you know it’s not Harry’s baby?”
“Of course it’s not Harry’s baby.”
“Did you go to the hospital after Harry raped you?”
“No.”
“Fancy, that’s the first thing you should’ve done. That way the doctor could have taken samples of pubic hairs, semen, blood, or any other particles that transmitted from Harry’s body to yours. The information would support your case as evidence in court. You never answered if you filed a police report.”
“No, I didn’t.”
The receptionist buzzed Mandy. “Okay, give me five more minutes and tell the client I won’t bill him for this session.”
“Could it be Desmond’s baby?”
“No way,” Fancy said, slipping on her black heels.
“How’s your mother?”
“You mean, Caroline. She’s Caroline.”
Maybe on her next visit Fancy would tell Mandy that Caroline would need a new place to live once her ex was released from prison. Thaddeus was another problem Caroline had created and another reason Fancy hated her. When Fancy was twelve, Caroline had convinced Fancy to lie to the police and say Thaddeus raped her. Thaddeus was charged with child molestation. Fancy had grown tired of Thaddeus beating on Caroline every weekend but the first time he’d hit Fancy and called her fat and ugly, Fancy never wanted to see him again. After he was sentenced, Fancy thought Caroline would spend more time being a mother instead of chasing men. Fancy was wrong. Nothing changed except the faces. Caroline still drank too much, threw up too often, and made Fancy clean up the mess. Fancy would’ve run away, except she had no place to go. So she’d lied on Thaddeus and promised Caroline she’d never tell anyone. And so far Fancy hadn’t told a soul.
Mandy took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Here’s my home number. Call me if you need me. I’ll see you next week. And please be on time. We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do.” Fancy hurried out of Mandy’s office and headed home.
Most of the day Fancy lay in bed nauseated. She was sick but forced herself to shower and dress for her date with Byron.
Her reflection was not one of an ill woman. The halter-top dress exposed her cleavage. The short dress showed off her thighs. And her hair draped over her left shoulder, highlighting her toned back.
Byron’s driver arrived early so Fancy took her time before going downstairs. Surprisingly, Byron was in the car, so Fancy smiled.
“Hey, I missed you. Where’ve you been?”
“You look nice. You always look nice,” Byron said, kissing her on the lips.
Fancy shivered, then said, “So, you had dinner with SaVoy last weekend?”
Byron leaned back. He didn’t respond. Well, at least he knew that she knew he’d taken out her best friend.
The view from their dinner table at The Claremont Resort was romantic. Byron ordered lamb chops for himself, duck for her, and a bottle of champagne.
“I have a lot on my plate right now. I brought you here to tell you this may be our last date for a few months.”
The nausea in Fancy’s stomach rose to her throat. She swallowed air. “Why?” Her eyes searched his, trying to find an answer. “I love you. We can work out something.”
Byron nodded at the waiter, acknowledging to pour the champagne.
Fancy lifted her glass and said, “A toast. To our unborn child.” She smiled as she watched the smile on Byron’s face disappear. Her smile vanished.
“What did you say?”
Fancy repeated the toast, holding her flute in the air, waiting for Byron’s approval.
“This is not a good time. Look, I’ll pay for the abortion.”
“I’m not having an abortion!”
“Calm down.” Byron motioned for the waiter to bring the check. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“This. You call our baby a this.”
“Let’s go.” Byron stood behind Fancy, waiting to pull out her chair. He waited, then said, “You have ten seconds.”
“Or what?” Fancy said, eating her vegetables, “you’re going to call your wife?”
Byron stood behind her chair for exactly ten seconds, then he left. Fancy scurried behind him because she needed a ride home.
“Look, I’m not ready to start a family. Just be patient. I’ll arrange for the abortion, and have someone stay with you for three days.”
Oh, hell no. This wasn’t foreign to Byron. How many women had had abortions for him? Byron had the driver pull over. He sorted through the floral bouquets at a roadside stand and bought a colorful assortment of sunflowers.
His phone rang so Fancy looked at the driver who looked at her. She looked at the caller ID. It showed home.
Fancy smiled and snuggled under Byron after he got in the car. “Spend the night with me.”
Byron sat quietly, staring out the window. “There’s something I need to tell you,” Byron said right before the red message light flashed on his phone. Byron listened to his message, then said as his driver doubled-parked in front of Fancy’s building, “Sorry, I can’t stay tonight.”
“What were you going to say?”
“It can wait. I have to go. I love you,” Byron said, waiting for her to get out the car.
“What about the money you still owe me?”
“I
’ll give you the money for the abortion this weekend.”
“I’m not having an abortion. I mean the money for working at your fund-raisers.”
“My accountant paid you months ago. Look, I don’t like the way this conversation is going. I’ve already wasted too much time. I gotta go.” Byron tipped the doorman and said, “Please, see Ms. Taylor to her door.”
Fancy didn’t want to let Byron know she was unemployed and that it was his fault she’d fired her regular sponsors to be with him. Before the driver closed Byron’s door, he was on the phone.
With so many things happening, Fancy had forgotten to check her mailbox. She jumped with excitement. A familiar envelope from Washington and Associates only meant one thing. Harry’s check had arrived. “You don’t have to escort me upstairs, I’ll be fine.” As soon as the elevator doors closed, Fancy opened the envelope. Non-negotiable was watermarked across the front of her fifty thousand dollar check, and a bill for seven thousand dollars was enclosed with a letter.
The following expenditures in the amount of fifty-seven thousand dollars have been deducted from your settlement and your liability to Washington and Associates is due immediately. If you have any questions, please contact the attorney.
Every real estate course—principles, ethics, finance, escrow, property management—and the bleeding heart was deducted from her payment. “Fuck this! Harry’s gonna pay me my money or first thing Monday morning I’m calling the cops.”
CHAPTER 21
SaVoy was especially excited because after several dates, this was the first night Tyronne invited her to his place. She packed three DVDs, her cell phone charger, Nintendo and Play Station controllers, clothes for church tomorrow, and the lavender silk nightgown and robe she’d bought earlier. SaVoy was nervous and excited about spending her first night, all night, with a man. Scribbling on a blank five-by-seven note paper she wrote, “Papa, I’m staying the night at Tyronne’s. His address and phone number are . . .”
Instead of wearing a ponytail, SaVoy finger combed her curls. How could she not over- or underdress for a house date? After changing several times, SaVoy wore her blue jeans, a tan asymmetrical cut blouse, black boots, and a short tan leather blazer. Her M.A.C. gloss shone between the chocolate lip liner.
He's Just A Friend Page 16
