She laughed and continued to pat his hand. “Don’t worry. She will.”
He chuckled at her misplaced confidence. “How do you know?”
“Because she’d have to be crazy not to.”
Jaleel lay across his bed and tossed a baseball into the air with one hand and then caught it in his gloved one. He’d often performed this routine when he needed to think or when he wanted to mentally separate from his parents. Today, he wanted and needed to do both. He was tired of being ignored and used by his parents, whether they meant to do it or not. Why couldn’t things go back to the way they used to be?
He was also tired of being angry—with his parents, with Macy, and most of all with himself. Sneaking Theresa over after curfew had been a mistake. He wished he could talk with her, but since that night, her parents had grounded her from seeing him or even talking on the phone. The pain and embarrassment he’d caused his mother was unforgivable. The worst part was he had no explanation for why he couldn’t apologize. Instead he’d antagonized her and undoubtedly made her cry.
Jaleel stopped tossing the ball as he felt his own tears surface and slide to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just somehow always did.
This morning his mother wanted to discuss what had happened between him and Theresa and he had had the embarrassing chore of telling his mother he was no virgin. However, it was his first time attempting to have sex in their house. His honesty was rewarded with a flash of disappointment and disapproval. Then the discussion turned toward protection.
When he revealed his father had bought him a few boxes of condoms that he kept in his top drawer, he thought he’d win brownie points for having the foresight of discussing the matter with his dad, but instead his confiding with his dad hurt her. He would never learn the rules of divorce.
Frustration erupted in him. How much longer did he have to wait for both of them to come to their senses and get back together?
“No matter,” Jaleel whispered, and then willed his tears to disappear. This summer he had a plan and, if things went the way he hoped, they would once again be one big happy family.
Chapter 13
Rain accompanied the dawn of Friday morning to the great relief of Atlanta citizens and their dehydrated lawns. But this was no ordinary shower; the blinding sheets of rain held every potential of becoming a hazardous flood—a good enough excuse for Brooklyn to try and work from home.
Jaleel had surprised her by bolting out of bed at 6:00 a.m. instead of sticking to his customary noon hibernation. She woke up and fixed him a hearty breakfast, undoubtedly the last one he’d get for the summer, seeing how it was no secret that Macy couldn’t cook.
By seven, Jaleel had dragged a large duffel bag into the living room and looked as though he was shipping out for war.
Brooklyn pretended her son’s eagerness didn’t bother her and even tried to convince herself she was looking forward to the summer break. In truth, she didn’t want him to go.
Jaleel walked into the kitchen and stared in awe at the feast before him. “Are you expecting an army?” he asked. A smile split his lips.
Then she truly noticed the mountain of biscuits, pancakes, sausages and eggs she’d prepared. There were bowls of grits, oatmeal and gravy—and she’d also fried a pack of bacon.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I might have gone a little overboard.”
“Yeah. Just a little.” He laughed and sat down at the table.
Brooklyn poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him. “So, I guess you’re excited?”
“I suppose so.” He shrugged, careful not to meet her stare as he piled food onto his plate.
An awkward tension cloaked mother and son while one tried not to ask too much and the other avoided straight answers.
“I want you to promise to call if you need me to come get you for any reason,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, more on autopilot than anything else.
Brooklyn couldn’t explain the wave of sadness and guilt or her undeniable fear of spending the summer alone. Trying to keep the conversation on safe ground, she thought it best to run down the items he needed. “Did you pack enough underwear?”
She laughed at the incredulous look he gave her. “Sorry. It’s hard turning the mother thing on and off,” she offered as an excuse.
He smiled and made her day.
An hour later, as she placed the dishes in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang.
Jaleel bounded down the stairs.
Brooklyn’s heart sank. She dried her hands and went to join her son just as he opened the door.
“What are you doing with a tux?” she asked, pointing to the suit draped over his shoulder.
Evan walked through the door.
Jaleel shrugged, but a smile quirked his lips. “Dad rented it for their engagement party.”
Brooklyn turned hard eyes toward Evan. “What engagement party?”
Yasmine popped up at Isaiah’s mother’s home some time after lunch and was bursting at the seams with news. “I finally met with Ms. Macy Patterson today for lunch,” she announced, and then stopped in her tracks when she noticed Isaiah was wearing an apron.
“Don’t say a word,” he warned, and then waved for her to follow him into the kitchen.
“Never a camera around when you need one,” she muttered, with suppressed laughter.
Once in the kitchen, he resumed slicing and dicing onions on a cutting board.
“I never knew you were handy in the kitchen.” She grabbed a mitten and peeked inside the oven.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He chuckled, turning away from the counter to stir the sauce on the stove. “Tell me about your meeting.”
Yasmine laughed and closed the oven. “Businesswise it was a boon. Her company is practically salivating over the prospect of working with Rotech.”
“That is good news.” He nodded though it wasn’t the information he wanted to discuss. He glanced at his best friend and waited with strained patience for her to continue.
Instead, Yasmine took her time helping him stir the sauces and sniff everything she came across.
“Well?” he finally asked.
“Well, what?”
“You two didn’t talk about anything else?” he probed.
“Oh.” Yasmine smiled slyly. “She did say something about her total embarrassment over what had happened the other night at dinner.”
Isaiah waited—and waited—then asked, “Is that it?”
Yasmine laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Quite the eager beaver, aren’t you, Romeo?”
“Why don’t you stop playing around and just tell me what I want to know.”
“At first it was kind of difficult getting information out of her, but after a couple of drinks, she loosened right up.” She eased onto a stool next to the counter.
“And?”
“And, she was once your Juliet’s best friend—that is until Macy stole her husband.”
“She said that?”
“Not in so many words—but yeah. Frankly, I think these people need an all-expense-paid trip to The Jerry Springer Show.”
“That bad?”
Yasmine cocked her head as her eyes rolled upward. “You know, now that I think about it, you two have a few things in common. Her husband left her for her best friend and your girlfriend left you for your uncle. This would be like two rejects finding eternal bliss.”
Isaiah’s jaw dropped as surprise colored his eyes. “Rejects?”
She shrugged, and then laughed. “I just call it like I see it.”
“Sticks and stones.” Isaiah scraped the diced onions into the saucepan. As he talked, his grin slouched to one side. “What else did she say?”
“That she wasn’t looking forward to playing baby-sitter to her fiancé’s son all summer. According to her, she’s not the motherly type. And after listening to her for the better part of the afternoon, I have no trouble believing that.”
Isaiah tuned her out. “Son?” he repeated, unable to explain his flicker of surprise.
“Yep, so if this works out, you’re looking at a pre-packaged family,” Yasmine informed him somberly.
Isaiah laughed. “Well, the way things are going, I don’t think that’s a real possibility. She hasn’t called yet.”
“Then call her.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m bordering on harassment as it is.”
“What? We’ve only sent flowers and a snow globe. What’s a phone call—at least one, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m starting to feel like I’m begging.”
“You are begging.” She met his stare with a serious expression.
“I never beg,” he answered in equal measure.
Yasmine shrugged. “If you say so.”
Friday night, Brooklyn had invited Toni over under the guise of a girls’ night out. In secret, she held every intention of hosting her own pity party. When Toni entered the house and followed her to the kitchen, Brooklyn told her the news.
“What do you mean ‘engaged’?” Toni questioned in the same deadpan voice that Brooklyn had used earlier with Evan.
Brooklyn could only manage a casual shrug of her shoulders. “That’s what he said.” She popped open a bottle of wine. “Drink?”
Shock lingered in Toni’s expression. “Is that the strongest thing you have?”
“Unfortunately.” She turned and opened a cabinet for the wineglasses. “Was that a yes or a no?” she asked before pouring.
“It’s a yes.” Toni plopped her purse down on the breakfast bar, and then eased onto a stool. “Engaged?”
Brooklyn nodded and filled the glasses to the rim before handing one to her friend. “The way I see it, the two snakes deserve each other.”
Toni eyed her. “Have you been in that robe all day?”
“Didn’t see a need to get dressed,” Brooklyn answered with another shrug. “My life is going to hell in a handbasket anyway.” She took a deep gulp.
Toni’s glass halted midway to her lips as she studied Brooklyn again. “You’re not still in love with him, are you?”
Brooklyn choked, but managed to get the wine down her throat; however, her eyes glossed and a severe cough plagued her for a few minutes afterward.
Toni’s delicate brows rose with heightening interest. “Are you all right?”
“I’m f-fine.” Brooklyn wasted no time pouring herself another glass.
“Good. I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.”
Setting the bottle down, she placed both hands against the counter, imprisoned Toni’s gaze, and leaned forward. “Let me be clear. I am absolutely, positively over Evan.”
It was Toni’s turn to shrug. “Then it’s no big deal that he’s getting married.”
“Of course it’s a big deal. He’s getting married before I am—and to her!”
Toni leaned back. “I see.”
“He doesn’t deserve to find happiness first.” Brooklyn’s body deflated. She grabbed her wineglass and the bottle and shuffled out of the kitchen.
Toni stood and followed her to the living room. She stopped at the sight of so many flickering candles. “It looks like a shrine in here.”
Brooklyn ignored the comment and dropped onto the sofa. “Life isn’t fair.”
“Whoever said that it was?” Toni asked, joining her. She gingerly eased out of her pumps, sighed with relief, and then turned her attention back to her depressed friend. “You’re right. The two snakes deserve each other and whatever misery they bestow on one another.”
The alcohol worked its magic and numbed Brooklyn’s throbbing temples as well as the stabbing ache in her chest. “You’re completely missing my point.”
“What is your point?”
She worked her mouth, but her brain seemingly forgot the English language.
“Yeess?” Toni took her first sip.
Brooklyn’s body deflated again. “I don’t know. I just feel this huge injustice. He has the great career, all our money, Jaleel’s undying love and adoration, my best friend—”
Toni cleared her throat.
“My ex-best friend.”
“Thank you.”
A corner of Brooklyn’s lips flickered upward, and then disappeared. “And now, he’s racing down the aisle of happily-ever-after or at least happy until someone with a firmer ass comes along.”
Toni popped her on the arm. “Stop it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your ass.”
A bark of laughter reverberated throughout Brooklyn’s body and she knew that she’d done the right thing by inviting Toni over.
“Look,” Toni said, settling back against the fluffy pillows. “If anything, this should tell you that it’s time to start searching for someone for yourself as well. The past is the past and there’s nothing you can do to change any of it. But at least you’ve learned some valuable lessons.”
Brooklyn acquiesced with a slow nod of her head.
“I say you call that hunk from New York and start your own torrid affair, relationship, whatever. All work and no play make Brooklyn a lonely woman.”
Cocking a brow in the middle of her friend’s motivational speech, Brooklyn turned toward Toni. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I mean, great sermon, but I don’t see you exactly practicing what you preach, reverend. When was the last time you were out on a date?”
“What difference does that make? We’re talking about you.”
“You’re being a hypocrite.”
“I haven’t transformed my living room to look like some holy sanctuary while pouring my sorrows into a bottle of wine.”
Brooklyn swiveled her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Whatever.”
Toni laughed as she leaned forward to set her glass down on the coffee table. “All right, if you must know, I went out with Brian Olson last night.”
Curiosity tickled Brooklyn’s brain as she glanced back at her friend.
Toni waved off her inquisitive stare and began providing answers before the questions were hurled. “He works with me at the firm. Brilliant attorney, lousy in bed.”
“You slept with him?” Brooklyn turned toward her, wrapped in her friend’s story.
A sly smile dominated Toni’s features. “Now who’s trying to be a hypocrite?”
Flustered, Brooklyn again didn’t know what to say, but at Toni’s laugh, she smiled again. “Well, at least mine wasn’t lousy in bed,” she said, sticking her tongue out.
“Which brings us back to my point.” Toni reclaimed her glass. “Call Isaiah.”
Chapter 14
Entrenched in a horror movie’s climax, Yasmine jumped when a loud shrill filled the room. She retrieved her cell phone, but it wasn’t ringing. A phone continued to ring while she searched around her before finding Isaiah’s cell phone buried between the cushions. She pressed the talk button. “Hello.”
“Sorry. I must have the wrong number,” a woman answered.
“No, wait—”
The lady disconnected the call. Yasmine frowned at the phone just as Isaiah returned from the twenty-four-hour pharmacy.
When he breezed through the front door, he stopped by the living room. “Yas, I’m going to run this medicine up to my mom and I’ll be right back.” Suddenly, his brain registered her bewildered expression. “What is it?”
Yasmine shook it off. “Someone just called on your phone. Hurry up. The movie is getting good.”
“You stopped it, didn’t you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Isaiah didn’t believe her. “Rewind it back to where I left and I’ll be back.” He turned. “By the way, who called?” he asked, bounding up the stairs.
“Don’t know,” she yelled back. “Some woman.”
He missed a step and fell forward. His knee banged against the stairs and he did a half roll onto his butt and slid down.
/> Yasmine ran to the staircase. “Are you all right?”
At the top of the stairs, his mother appeared. “What is all that racket?”
“He fell,” Yasmine said, her eyes remaining on Isaiah as she waited for an answer.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, feeling more than a little embarrassed.
Georgia rushed to him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes.” He turned toward Yas. “Who did you say called?”
She shrugged, and then a light flickered in her eyes. She rushed to retrieve his cell phone.
As sharp as ever, Georgia caught on to their conversation and squeezed his shoulder. “Did your lady friend call?”
Yasmine reappeared and handed him the phone. He quickly reviewed the last number received. “I don’t believe it,” he said, blinking. When he looked at the two women, a geyser of hope erupted in his chest. “She called.”
“Are you sure you dialed the right number?” Toni asked when Brooklyn sat the cordless down on the coffee table.
“I’m sure. Some woman picked up. Might have been his girlfriend.” A tinge of jealousy pricked.
Toni’s frown deepened. “You don’t know that. Could have been his mother for all you know.”
“And it could have been a girlfriend. Anything could change in a man’s life in six months. Especially someone as good looking as Isaiah.”
“Would a man with a girlfriend send you gifts and flowers—and practically beg for you to call him?”
Brooklyn dropped a hand to her hip while her gaze turned into a narrowed stare.
Toni shook her head at the ridiculous question. “Okay. Forget I said that.”
With a slow smile, Brooklyn reclaimed her wineglass and eased back into the sofa. “I don’t know why I listen to you anyway. I’m not ready to jump back into a relationship.”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Cut me a break. It’s one thing to lie to me, it’s another thing entirely when you start believing those lies.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said.” She shrugged. “Since your divorce, we repeat this same vignette. It’s time for another scene, or act, or perhaps a whole new play.”
Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) Page 9
