“I guess I should think about moving out if I get the job. I imagine you’re ready to have the place to yourself again,” she added, playing with the ruffle around the pillow. “Having a roommate thrust upon you with little notice was hard, I’m sure.”
“Actually having you around is like freshman year, only better. Don’t rush to move out on my account. I mean, who would I race, and beat, in the mornings?”
“Suzette?”
“We’re a long way from that. Truthfully, the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”
“Which one? Me moving out or her moving in?”
“Either. There will be no moving truck involved in the second date.”
Mikaela lightly tapped Casey’s thigh with her fist. “Anytime you change your mind let me know. A week’s notice would be nice.”
“For you, I can do seven days.”
Chapter Nine
“Happy birthday to me,” Sara whispered as she finished off another beer. Looking at the bottom of the glass, she wasn’t sure if it was her fifth or sixth. Maybe she should have gone with shots, she thought. They seemed more festive, more in keeping with turning a year older, going another year without that Batman bike.
“Can’t go there.” She rubbed the back of her neck and looked into her glass again. When she wondered again if this was her fifth or sixth, she knew she was well on her way to being drunk. It didn’t really matter if she was. She had already done her MLK volunteer work, she wasn’t driving, and crawling home was still an option. It was her birthday and she could celebrate it any damn way she wanted. “So there,” she said and lifted her glass so the solidly built bartender could see she was ready for another beer.
And if maybe she was drinking to keep away thoughts of what she’d find out tomorrow morning, that wasn’t so bad, she told herself. It wasn’t so bad if she forgot for a while that she’d soon know for sure her parents hadn’t died in a car accident like she’d grown up believing. If she forgot, that she’d know for sure they’d been murdered in their own home, shot down while she was hiding. Her breathing hitched and she realized she’d gotten sucked back into the rabbit hole she was desperately trying to get out of.
Beer. She would think about drinking more beer, she told herself, accepting another cold draft. Taking a sip, she leaned back in the high-backed chair and tried to focus on how much she enjoyed drinking beer. It shouldn’t have surprised her when instead Mikaela popped into her mind. It was hard to believe that only yesterday they had been in this same place, talking and laughing and having a good time. Now that she was here alone and close to being drunk, she could admit she wanted to be with Mikaela again. Admit she’d spent a good part of the afternoon fighting against the urge to pull out that scrap of paper and make the call.
Hell, she was fighting urges right now. She gripped the glass tightly, knowing she couldn’t, wouldn’t call. To do so would make her dependent on another person, and she’d sworn that would never happen to her. She didn’t want to be someone who felt better at the sound of another’s voice. Those days had been gone for a long time and she wasn’t going to let them come back. She wasn’t going to let Mikaela slowly inch into her life until she was a necessity and then have her turn around and leave. No. She was the one who left first. That’s the way it had to be.
“You doing okay?” the bartender asked.
“I’m fine,” she replied, managing to sound steady. “But this should probably be my last one. Got things to do tomorrow.”
The bartender nodded. “Let me know when you need a taxi.”
“I’m walking. Only live a few blocks over.” She peered at the clock on the opposite wall. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost ten.”
Sara reared back and wobbled on the stool, surprised she’d been at it for over four hours. How many beers had she had? “Maybe could use an order of fries to soak up some of this beer.”
“Coming right up.”
She rubbed her temples, thinking about how much she would really regret this indulgence in the morning. At least she didn’t have to get up as early. Jackson had agreed to give her the time off, and the Records Department didn’t open till eight-thirty. Still, she wanted to be first in line, first one finished and out of the door.
“Damn!” She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about anything.
The sound of loud voices drew her attention to the front of the restaurant. A group of women were laughing and jive talking about the basketball game they’d won. Wishing she could have been playing in that game, Sara took another sip of beer. Thursday. She’d go Thursday.
“Hey. Don’t I know you?”
Sara didn’t bother to look up. She didn’t know anyone but Mikaela. But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her either.
“Yo, white girl at the bar. Don’t I know you?”
She blinked, looked right, then left. She was the only woman sitting at the bar, white or black. Curiosity piqued, she managed to swivel around and narrowed in on the speaker. It took a moment for recognition to get through her beer-soaked brain and she sat up straighter. “Know? I wouldn’t call it that.” That sounded better to Sara than the truth, and technically it was true. Stopping the other woman from hassling Mikaela did not constitute knowing.
The woman walked over to the bar. “I’ve seen you before. Oh yeah.” Her lips twisted into an ugly snarl. “I remember now. You’re the bitch who got in my business the other day.”
“Technically it was also my business,” Sara felt compelled to point out. “You were bothering a tenant in front of the building where I work. Doing my job, that’s all.”
“Bothering? I was talking to her, bitch.”
“It’s not so much talking when the other person does not want to participate in the conversation. If I remember correctly, Mikaela said she was done with you.” And later that night she took me home with her, she thought. Imagining what the would-be bully would think of that made her grin.
“What the hell you smiling about?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Ooh, Nina, I think she just dissed you,” the shortest in the group said. “You gonna let her get away with that?”
Sara’s mind cleared enough to realize she might be in trouble. There was one of her and four of them. And the one of her was none too steady. “No dissing. Hold on.” She blew out a breath, fished her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed the number from memory. “It’s Sara.”
“Hey! I can’t believe you called. How’s it going?”
“Could be better. There’s this, uh, situation here and I need you to clear things up.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I…yeah, probably.”
“You need a ride?”
“Walking. I’m at the wings place and there’s someone here who claims I got in her business the other day. Someone you know.”
“And did you?”
The amusement in Mikaela’s voice came through loud and clear. “See, no. Gotta make sure the tenants are safe or I’ll get fired. Your fault,” she added, after taking another look at Nina and her gang.
“Mine? I drove you to drink?”
“You had your part. Hold on.” She handed the phone to Nina, hoping that would clear things up. “Tell her.”
Nina gave her a hard look but took the phone. “Who the hell is this?”
Sara smiled her thanks when the bartender delivered fries and a glass of water along with a beady-eyed look at Nina and her posse. As Sara shook malt vinegar over the fries, she listened with enjoyment to Nina’s struggle to get a word in against Mikaela’s loud rant. Nina was still trying—and failing—when Mikaela’s voice cut out. Sara wisely kept her smile to herself.
“What you think that proves, white girl? I got her number too.”
She wiped her mouth and would have stood, but she wasn’t sure she could so without stumbling. “Nothing to prove, black girl. Thought you’d appreciate talking to the
source.”
“This ain’t no game, bitch. Whatever you think you have with Mikaela is done.”
Laughter bubbled up as Sara was drinking water and she choked. “What is this, high school?” she rasped out, then cleared her throat. “Grow up. Mikaela’s old enough to make her own decisions.”
“I should kick your ass right now.”
“No ass-kicking allowed.” The bartender crossed her powerful arms, looking like she could bench-press a small car. “I suggest you find a table and order or find the door.”
“You’d better be glad you ain’t worth my time.” Nina’s lips curled in a sneer. “Let’s roll up outta here.”
“What was that about?” the bartender asked once Nina and her friends were gone.
“I wish I knew.” Sara blew out a breath. “I could use another glass of water, and I’ll probably need a cab as well.” Her hand shook as she picked up a fry and tried to figure out what the hell she’d gotten herself into. Calling Mikaela when she was drunk had to be the height of stupidity. Lucky for her, she’d given the phone to Nina before she said anything she’d later regret. Maybe next time she’d thank Nina for distracting Mikaela by pissing her off before she planted a fist in her face. But probably not.
Sara had downed another glass of water by the time Mikaela arrived seven minutes later with Casey in tow. Her brain was still fuzzy, but it was clearer than it’d been when she made the call. Clear enough to appreciate how the purple sweater hugged Mikaela’s chest and the silky strands falling on Mikaela’s shoulders begged to be touched.
“Where is she?” Mikaela demanded even as she scanned the restaurant.
Sara was glad that fury wasn’t directed at her. “She left shortly after you quit screaming at her.”
“Did I not tell her to wait here for me?” Mikaela demanded and stomped her foot. “Did I not tell her that if she wanted to talk I was ready?” She fisted her hips.
Clichéd as it was, Sara thought Mikaela looked damn hot in a rage. “She sort of had to leave.” Those mesmerizing eyes zeroed in on her and she swallowed hard. Not from fear, but from something entirely different.
“Explain.”
“She wanted to kick my ass because I told her she didn’t get to decide your life. Thankful to say, the big bartender over there stepped in and they decided to leave.”
Mikaela gave a strangled scream. “I can’t believe her! She ditched me six months ago and now she decides to act like some territorial idiot. Unbelievable. You okay?”
“Ah, yeah. Look, I swear I don’t normally get drunk and call people.”
“I know exactly where the blame lies. Why don’t we give you a ride home for your trouble. You remember Casey, right?”
Sara smiled a hello. “I’ll take you up on that. Let me settle up and I’ll be ready to go.” Sara left a generous tip along with her thanks. When she got off the stool, to her relief, the floor didn’t try to buck her off.
“I’m sorry,” Mikaela said as they exited the restaurant. “I never expected Nina to act like this. I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say except to tell you again I’m sorry you had to put up with that.”
“Does she have reason to believe you’re her girlfriend?”
“Hell no! She’s acting the fool and I honestly don’t know why. But you’d better believe I plan to have a conversation with her and soon.” Mikaela smoothed a palm across her forehead. “Wish I could guarantee it’ll do some good, but I can’t. So please, please, please call me if she pulls any more stupid shit.”
Sara put a hand on Mikaela’s arm. “Better yet, no more getting drunk and stupid for me, okay?”
“Yeah, ’cause sober you could have taken all of them, right?”
She gave an easy grin. “Damn right! All jokes aside, I can and will take care of myself. Been doing it for most of my life.”
* * *
Mikaela’s bad mood swirled around her like an invisibility cloak when she got out of bed the next morning. She had no trouble getting on the treadmill, her energy fueled by thoughts of what she’d like to do to Nina, who’d been sneaky enough to dodge her calls last night. So the bitch can’t be too crazy, she thought as she increased her pace to a mild jog. The rest of the workout was spent fantasizing about the moves she’d use to cut Nina down to size for blowing her chance with Sara, posse or no posse. The chance might have been smaller than a molecule, but it had been a chance. Mikaela was panting at the forty-minute mark, having dispatched the lot of them two or three times. During the cool-down walk she got real and thought about what she could actually do to get Nina off her back.
She arrived at her office, bristling with pent-up frustration. Sara wasn’t in sight, and she considered that a good thing. The shame of last night’s fiasco still rankled, thanks to Superstorm Nina. What really burned was it had all been for nothing. As her grandmother used to say, “she’d rather walk through Hell in gasoline drawers” than get back with Nina.
When more than one person on the elevator looked at her in alarm, Mikaela realized how hard she was breathing. She plastered on a smile as she took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly and changed the channel in her brain. She had more important things to worry about than Nina and, though it hurt to acknowledge it, the nonexistent chance she had with Sara. Things like going after that promotion. The first step was doing an outstanding job with Bill’s meeting materials. After all, the work had to be good enough to silence any grumblings when she landed the job. Not silence, she decided as she exited the elevator. They had to blow any misgivings about her ability to do the job out of the water.
“Mikaela.”
The strident tone burst her bubble of world domination, and with reluctance, she slowed her step as she approached Christine. Obviously someone had been waiting for her. “Morning. How are you today?”
“What’s this I hear about you doing work for Bill?” Christine sounded as pissed off as she looked.
“I’m doing fine by the way, thank you,” she said, calling on her Southern belle persona instead of the ghetto fabulous Shawniqua. She didn’t have the job yet. “As for what you may or may not have heard, why, I can’t begin to guess. You know how the rumors fly around here.” She smiled sweetly.
“Is it true that Jolene asked you to do some work for one of Bill’s meetings? Why would she do that? She didn’t ask me and I’m first in line for her job.”
Mikaela could only think delusion was an ugly master—especially first thing in the morning. “It’s true I have been practicing, but I have to tell you, I haven’t quite been able to get mind reading down cold. Come back next week. I might have conquered it by then.” She wanted to laugh at the look of bewildered rage on Christine’s face. That too was an ugly thing. “But you know, I have a better idea. If you have concerns about what I’m working on, take it up with my boss. Problem solved. You have a wonderful day now.” She brushed by Christine, adding an exaggerated sway to her behind.
After putting away her things, she sauntered to the break room, fixed herself a cup of coffee and took some time to gloat. She was allowed because, after all, she’d been chased down, questioned like she was a criminal and had still cut Christine down to size. She laughed, remembering the look on Christine’s face. Maybe the old biddy would think twice about huffing and puffing next time. Too bad there hadn’t been a bucket of water nearby. Christine might not have been liquefied, but she would have lost that polished look she seemed to love.
“Good times.” Mikaela toasted herself and then returned to her desk, her mood greatly improved.
“Morning.” Talya walked up to Mikaela’s desk thirty minutes later and dropped off a fruit cup. “Healthier than donuts, no?”
“Thanks.” Her stomach had already forgotten the yogurt consumed for breakfast. “I should warn you that Christine’s on the warpath this morning.”
“Don’t tell me you bitch-slapped her without me around to see it?”
Mikaela smiled at Talya’s playful pout. �
��Thought about it, but no. She found out I’m working on that stuff for Bill and demanded to know why Jolene hadn’t asked her. She is first in line for that job.”
“I assume you didn’t tell her it’s because she hasn’t had an original thought in fifty years.” Talya’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If she has the time to come to you and whine, then she must have those reports I asked her to pull together. Set up a meeting in fifteen to discuss her progress. Brannon’s old office will do.”
“More than happy to.” Mikaela smiled. Her day really was looking up.
Talya returned ten minutes later. “Have you checked for postings yet? Bill said any day.”
“I guess I know what my next task should be.”
“You do. After my little powwow with Christine, I’ll head directly to my nine-thirty with Bill.” Talya checked her schedule. “God, then on to the next three meetings. It’s getting so I don’t remember what my office looks like.”
“Too bad this is happening when you have one of your people in training and the other out on paternity leave.”
“Remind me again. Is Gerri coming back Friday or Monday?”
“Monday. The training’s over tomorrow, but she took a couple days’ personal leave to hang out with an old college friend.”
“Gives me extra time to figure out ways to foist some of these minor meetings off on her. Be sure and check about the job before you go to lunch” was Talya’s parting shot.
“Nag, nag, nag,” she muttered as the sound of Talya’s footsteps faded away. But to be on the safe side, she scrolled through the job openings. And there it was—Executive Assistant. Her excitement built as she read the job description. The responsibilities had been changed, making it a stepping stone to entry management level. “Whoa.” The requirements had been updated as well. There were going to be some very unhappy people. Too bad she wouldn’t be around to catch the expression on three particular faces.
She reread the job description, plugged in her personal flash drive and updated the cover letter she’d worked on the night before, highlighting her experience and training that matched the duties.
Full Circle Page 11
