by Lisa Eugene
“You don’t give a shit, do you?” I accused tartly.
He stopped mid-stride and pivoted to face me, surprise widening his eyes. “You with your fancy suits and your fancy car, looking down your nose at everyone else! Do you have any idea what kind of shitty program Emmy was in before she got into your school? They put her in front of a TV all day long! More than once, I picked her up from school to find her sitting in urine because no one took her to the bathroom or even bothered to help her get changed! Do you have any clue what goes on in the real world?” I shook my head, giving a scornful snort and ignoring his glower. The muscles in his jaw bulged sharply, but I was beyond taming. “No, I don’t think you do! Or you do, but you just don’t give a shit!”
“Ms. Carmichael, you are out of line—” His deep voice sounded barely controlled, the rattle of a dangerous growl.
“Damn right I am!” I yelled, so worked up I was shaking. “You’re a selfish, fucking asshole!”
“Ms. Carmichael—”
“You don’t care about those kids in that school! You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. Your charity is just for publicity, to make your company look better, to bolster your political career and get you elected as mayor. You’re a heartless monster, just as I figured when I first laid eyes on you!”
Mr. Rutherford’s face transformed into pure rage. In three long strides, he was in front of me, so close that every breath I inhaled was tainted with his potent scent. Intense. Male. Spiced with fury. The calm, cool businessman had vanished. He looked like he wanted to shake me until I shattered. I sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly frightened, afraid I might’ve gone too far. But I was frozen in my spot, too stunned to move a muscle.
“You know nothing about me,” he rasped. “Not a fucking clue.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously. His deep blue eyes skewered me, leaving me feeling inexplicably injured. My brain fired warning shots, urging me to retreat, but I stubbornly lifted my chin and remained in place. Despite my alarm, I wasn’t one to back down.
I absorbed all of him at once. There was the punch of dark stubble along his jaw. He had an unusually full bottom lip for a man, an almost indiscernible curve to his nose, a high forehead, and thick, almost jet-black hair that fell around his head in short waves. He was big, possessing everything in abundance. He was potently and conspicuously male.
“Now, get the hell out of my office before I decide to show you just who you’re dealing with. I have no desire to stand here and listen to some ill-tempered harpy!”
His gaze swept slowly down the front of my shirt to my foolishly displayed cleavage. Goose bumps swarmed my flesh and my skin prickled as if his gaze was the barest touch. To my utter mortification, my nipples beaded tight and nudged against my shirt, obvious to us both. Hot arousal swept through me, my breaths releasing in quick, delicate puffs of warm air. I thought I heard a subtle hitch in his throat, but when his eyes returned to my face, they were framed with a deep scowl. I saw reproach in their depths and it struck like a lash.
“I do not settle for scraps, Ms. Carmichael.” He took a measured step back, cool and impassive once again. “I suggest you re-button your shirt. I know how you worry about catching a chill. Good day.”
In the parking lot, I looked for his Bentley so that I could kick in the other door. Not finding it, I scolded myself when tears threatened. I wasn’t just upset he’d upheld Emmy’s expulsion, I was ashamed at my foolish actions and my body’s response to him. Humiliation snuggled deep in my chest and sat there.
Scraps? The word rankled. I couldn’t believe I gave so much power to the insult. Rutherfucker was an asshole. Pure and simple. I couldn’t explain why I felt so hurt from his rejection. It wasn’t as if I’d really wanted him.
I blinked at the persistent sting at the back of my eyes, wondering what the hell was wrong with me lately.
I wasn’t a crier. Crying never solved anything. It certainly didn’t pay the bills, and it wasn’t going to get Emmy back into the Academy. Along with getting a job, I now had to find my daughter a new school, one that would understand how special she was.
When I got home, Stanley was loitering with a few of my neighbors on the front stoop of my walk-up. I’d spotted him before I got too close thanks to the gleam of the sun off his bald head. I still didn’t have the rent, and couldn’t risk running into him. A thin sheet of snow dusted the ground, but the weather was mild. I snuggled into my coat and backtracked, deciding to take an idle walk around the block to kill time. By the time I returned to the building, he was gone.
I grabbed my dirty laundry, intending to spend the next few hours at the Laundro-Mat. Realizing I was down to the last few ounces of laundry detergent, I found an extra bottle of dish washing liquid and mixed it in. That should do the job. Laundry detergent was expensive, and right now I had to make everything stretch. I needed to be frugal. Who knew when there’d be another paycheck.
At five, I drove to the Academy to pick up Emmy. My heart lit up when I saw my daughter. As always, Emmy soothed the chaos in my soul, and the tumult of my day faded away. Mrs. Nancy stood behind Emmy outside her classroom as students crowded into a messy line, following their teachers down the hall for dismissal.
As I approached, the teacher clasped her hands to her breasts, a smug grin filling out her cheeks.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Mrs. Nancy beamed.
I hugged Emmy and stamped a kiss on her forehead. Emmy didn’t return the hug. She never did. She stared straight ahead, her gaze steady. Her hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, and her pink Dora backpack hung from her narrow shoulders. The backpack was filled with rubber bands of all shapes and sizes. For some reason, Emmy had an attachment to them, adding to her collection every chance she got. I cut a curious eye at Mrs. Nancy, wondering at the joy I read on her face.
“You have to see this!” the teacher glowed, barely able to contain herself.
Confused, I chuckled, but followed as Mrs. Nancy took Emmy’s hand and led us into the music room.
She walked us to the front of the room to a massive grand piano. It shined beautifully, the black polished wood flirting with the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling bay windows.
“Sit.” Mrs. Nancy indicated a chair and I obeyed, still eyeing her quizzically.
The teacher lowered herself to the piano bench. Straightening her back, she flitted her fingers over the keys and played for a full minute. It was music I recognized, a popular classical piece, but I couldn’t name the composer if my life depended on it.
Minutes later, Mrs. Nancy took the chair next to me. Emmy replaced her on the piano bench, took off her backpack, and without preamble, started playing.
My heart froze and my breath faded away. Hairs on the back of my neck sprang upright. The music rippling from the piano was stunning, infinitely beautiful. It was fluent, graceful, and exploded with passionate emotion.
I realized they were the same notes Mrs. Nancy had just keyed out, but it was obvious Emmy played them much better. I watched, shocked as my daughter’s little fingers danced quickly over the ivory keys with a life of their own.
“My God . . .” I breathed. I’d known Mrs. Nancy had been working with Emmy on the piano, but I’d had no idea about this.
I watched in a daze, only rousing when Mrs. Nancy squeezed my knee and smiled broadly. Emmy kept playing, her tiny body dwarfed by the colossal instrument. Her eyes closed as she swayed slowly, total serenity blanketing her face. As she played, the music seemed to weave through her, to burst to brilliant life.
“She’s truly remarkable.” Mrs. Nancy leaned over and whispered to me. “It’s Mozart - Piano Sonata number ten in C minor. I’ve only had to play it for her a few times. She watches my fingers. Now she’s playing entirely from memory.”“Wow.” I was tongue tied. Words seemed inadequate.
“It usually takes months to learn this piece. And not many people play it as well as she does—not even classically trained pianists.”
“I was thinking I could teach her a few more pieces, and perhaps she can play at graduation in May, maybe do a little concert for the other students. It would be wonderful for them—for us all.”
Mrs. Nancy smiled proudly, her eyes lighting with anticipation.
I blinked again, staring blankly into the teacher’s kind face as reality hit me.
She didn’t know. This was Emmy’s last week.
My throat tightened, clogged with emotion I couldn’t give a voice to. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, to explain there’d be no concert—ever.
I leaned over and wrapped my arms around the older lady, squeezing hard. No teacher had ever shown such an interest in my daughter, or taken the time to discover she possessed such a gift. I’d always known Emmy was special. But to me, every child was special. Every child was a treasure who possessed something unique and priceless. Emmy always had a penchant for music, but I’d never known of her incredible aptitude to play.
“Thank you,” I breathed sincerely. “Thank you.”
“It is entirely my pleasure,” Mrs. Nancy said, her eyes wet at the corners.
I realized mine were, too. What was with me this week? It seemed I was making up for many years of drought.
The music stopped abruptly and Emmy turned to face us. She shrugged on her backpack, signaling it was time to go. I stood and approached her. Leaning down, I looked into my daughter’s dark eyes and smiled proudly.
“You were amazing, Em. I love you so much.”
Emmy focused somewhere over my shoulder. Her eyes seemed blank, her features placid, but I knew. I just knew somewhere inside, she rejoiced.
CHAPTER FIVE
After three crappy job interviews and three prompt rejections, I started to despair. Even the dog-grooming interview hadn’t gone well. They’d said my hands were too big. Seriously? I was starting to think I should consider myself lucky. Who knew where they’d expected me to put my hands.
Mom had Emmy this evening. She usually took her every Tuesday for an overnight so they could spend time together. It was great for Emmy to get out of our claustrophobic apartment, especially now that she wasn’t in school. Every morning this week, she’d put her Dora backpack on over her pajamas and come into my room. And every morning, I’d had to patiently explain to her she wasn’t going back to the Academy. Every morning my heart broke.
Not one to concede defeat, I’d appealed to Mr. Clancy. He’d practically laughed in my face, seeming to derive some evil pleasure from Emmy’s dismissal. He was probably still angry I’d stood up to him, that I’d made an accurate assessment of his character. He and Rutherfucker were cut from the same soiled cloth. Mrs. Nancy, along with a few other teachers had promised to appeal to the board on Emmy’s behalf, but I wasn’t optimistic.
I’d just heated a can of soup for dinner when a knock sounded at the door. My cell was to my ear as I listened to Wanda recount the fiasco of her last date.
“Girl, that man wanted me to call him Daddy! Can you imagine that?”
I laughed, replacing the pot on the stove. “Did you?”
“Puleeze! I called him a cab and told him to get the fuck out of my apartment. I don’t play that. Ain’t no man putting me in ponytails and whipping my ass!”
The words painted an image in my head and I laughed out loud. Wanda was close to six feet tall. She’d make a very big little girl.
“You never know, Wanda. You might like it,” I teased.
“Just like I’d like a colonoscopy.”
The knock sounded again. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Stanley had already come by twice today and I’d played deaf. Rent was now more than two months overdue and he was pissed. Marie was being difficult, taking her time releasing my last check. Despite several calls, I’d gotten nowhere. The situation was disheartening. Marie was just another insidious vine intent on strangling my steps as I tried to move forward. Why is everything always such a struggle?
I was tired. Life’s constant battles were tedious, and trying to maintain control always felt like fighting the inevitable squeeze of a tight fist.
This didn’t sound like Stanley’s frantic knock.
“Someone’s at the door, Wanda. Gotta go.”
“Maybe it’s a hot man who wants to spank your ass,” she teased.
“Maybe I’d let him,” I returned dryly. “If he’d wash my dishes and clean my apartment.”
“I always knew you had some kink in you. Girl, you need to get laid.”
I rolled my eyes, making my way toward the door. “I’ll have to pencil it in between finding a job and suing my ex for child support.”
“Seriously. You haven’t had a date in like two years.”
The person at the door called my name, giving me an excuse to get off the phone. The last thing I wanted to do was rehash my pitiful dating record with Wanda. I didn’t have time for relationship drama, and I hadn’t met a man in years that stirred my interest. I hated to admit it, but after what happened in Rutherfucker’s office, I had slightly less confidence in my feminine appeal.
“Not happening.”
Wanda sighed heavily. “You’re a beautiful girl, but you give men attitude. It’s a major cock-blocker.”
“Good-bye, Wanda! Gotta go.”
Wanda chuckled, knowing very well I was running from this beleaguered subject.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
“Can’t wait.” I blew a loud kiss and signed off.
The voice sounded again though the door. This time I recognized it.
I disengaged my locks and pulled open the door to find Gladys, Roslyn, and Brenda, all waitresses from the restaurant, standing in the hall.
I gave them tight hugs and ushered them in, then checked the hallway quickly to make sure Stanley wasn’t around.
“How’re you doing?” Gladys asked, taking a seat on the beat up couch. Roslyn sat in the armchair and Brenda lowered herself onto an overturned crate I used as furniture.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “You guys want a glass of water?” I wished I could offer them more, but everything in my kitchen was now rationed.
“No, thanks.” Brenda shook her head. “We just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
I smiled at my friends, genuinely happy to see them. They were good people. Their friendship was the only thing I’d miss about that job.
“How’s Marie?” I grinned.
A collective moan circled the group.
“Still up our asses,” Roslyn answered with a scowl. “Driving us crazy as always.”
I nodded knowingly.
“Did Emmy start her new school yet?” Gladys asked. I’d told her about the dismissal from the Academy.
Emmy and I had a meeting tomorrow with the local public elementary school. The school offered an adjunct program for children with developmental disorders.
“I’ve met with the principal, the head of the special education department, and a few of the teachers. She should hopefully be starting next week.”
“That’s great,” Gladys exclaimed.
Although not impressive, the school was clean and didn’t seem overcrowded. It bothered me that there were metal detectors at the entrances, but the principal assured me the devices were more of a precaution than anything else. There were no enrichment programs like the Academy offered, but it was free and closer to home.
“We heard Marie on the phone with you the other day giving you a hard time about your paycheck,” Roslyn stated, pulling my attention.
“Yeah, she keeps telling me it’s not ready.”
“That’s bullshit. We were all paid last week. You should call the department of labor.”
I nodded. “I did. And after being on hold for thirty-three minutes, they told me to go online and file a complaint
and someone will get back to me.”
“That’s messed up,” Brenda chimed in.
“Yeah, I won’t hold my breath. I’ll have to deal with Marie myself.”
A moment of awkward silence followed. I knew the girls were at a loss for words, aware of my troubles. My situation was bleak. They knew I had a deadbeat ex and had been struggling to pay bills even before I’d lost my job. I watched them exchange furtive glances and wondered what they were up to. Gladys extracted an envelope from her purse and passed it to me.
Frowning, I flipped it open. My body stiffened when I saw the crisp hundred dollar bills. There must’ve been four or five of them. My chest squeezed tight as though the air in the room had suddenly thinned. I looked up, wide-eyed, at the three ladies. They each gave me a cautious look, full of tender pity. My fingers shook.
Dear God . . . has it come to this?
Before I could open my mouth, Gladys raised a hand, cutting me off.
“So the last day you worked, you left early. You didn’t get a share of the day’s tips.”
I blinked rapidly, throat swelling. There was way more in the envelope than a day’s share of tips for one person.
As if reading my thoughts, Gladys added, “We put in a little extra.”
I let out the breath I was holding and passed the envelope back to Gladys. I’d never taken charity and wasn’t about to start.
“You girls are great. I appreciate the gesture, but I can’t let you do this.”
A chorus of protests started, and it was my turn to cut them off.
“I’m touched you would do this for me, but really, I don’t need it.” I cleared my throat and coughed up a lie. “I have a little put away for rainy days like this.”
They exchanged glances again and I couldn’t tell if they believed me, but I couldn’t let that worry me. There was no way in hell I’d take their money.
“I am looking for work, though. You could keep your ears open and let me know if you hear of anything.”
