“Did I do something wrong?” Brianna’s voice squeaked.
That did it. Tears welled up in Tracey’s eyes. Her throat swelled tight making it hard to talk. She squinted against the morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows as she leaned against the breakfast bar. “No, not at all.”
“Did Daddy do something wrong?”
Oh boy, he sure did. “Sweetie, I promise Mommy will be home soon. Where did your dad go?”
“He’s here.”
“Can you give him the phone back?”
Brian’s baritone voice came on the line. “Yes.”
“Brianna doesn’t sound too good.”
“She’s been crying all night. She needed to hear your voice to calm down.”
Tracey closed her eyes. “All right, what are we going to do now?”
“Hold on a minute,” Brian said. The phone went mute for a moment. “I’m back. I sent her to go get her sneakers and her backpack. Tracey, pack up and drive home today. Make pizza and watch Doc McStuffins with Brianna this afternoon. Give her a bubble bath and put her to bed. We can talk about our situation tonight … all night long if you need.”
Brian made it sound so simple. Like she’d been on a mystical healing vacation and all her emotional wounds had disappeared and she could resume her duties like the good little unappreciated wife she’d been before.
“You and me? We are a train wreck. I could come back today, but what are we doing? Have you figured that out yet?” Tracey turned toward the French doors, watching sun rays burn through the morning clouds and fog.
“Brianna’s coming back down now. I gave you a plan. If you want to complicate things …” He trailed off, then said, “I’m taking her to camp now.”
Tracey opened her mouth to come back with a quick remark but words escaped her. This cooling off time, although it had diffused some of her pain and anger, was fast becoming more trouble than it was worth.
It was still early and quiet enough for Tracey to sit out on the deck and have uninterrupted devotions along with prayer time. She read from Proverbs and prayed for guidance. By the time she finished she’d made a half-hearted decision to go back home that afternoon. No matter what Brian’s attitude, with Brianna upset and Kyle talking and acting like more a of a sinner than a saint last night, it seemed best to return to Philly.
She walked back into the house and straight to the kitchen where she busied herself frying bacon, scrambling eggs, cutting up fruit for a fruit salad, and making fresh waffles. Celeste had cooked all week and this was a good time for Tracey to return the favor. The morning news played on the small kitchen television set while she worked. The weather forecast predicted a clear sunny day but possible thunderstorms in the late evening hours.
Kyle appeared out of nowhere. “Making breakfast for me? You shouldn’t have, but thank you!” He wore a royal blue polo shirt and white shorts, smelled like a bar of Irish Spring, and looked just as fresh. He could be a walking advertisement in GQ if he’d do something about those bags under his eyes.
“No. This is for the whole family. But I guess you have to eat too,” she responded as she flipped bacon over in the cast iron skillet.
He stepped over to the counter by the stove, peering at the pile of waffles. “These are from scratch? Nice.”
“Of course. What kind of a cook do you think I am? I don’t do boxed anything.” She tapped him on the shoulder and pointed for him to hand her a plate from the counter. She placed a paper towel on it and used it to drain the bacon.
“Smells delicious,” Kyle said.
“It’s your food. I just cooked it.” She stopped and turned toward him. “Wait. Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I’m taking the day off.” His eyes opened wide. “You don’t remember what today is?”
She shrugged. “Friday?” she guessed.
“Tracey!” Kyle gibed.
She scanned his face for clues. “No really, I have no idea.”
Kyle walked over by the refrigerator, opened a cabinet door, and pulled out a glass. He shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d forget my birthday.”
So that was it. “Happy birthday?”
He turned back to her. “That was weak.”
“That’s as good as you’re going to get after last night.”
“Holding a grudge?”
“What do you think?”
Tyler interrupted their conversation. “Hey, it’s Mom and Dad! Together! In the same room. What? Hold on, let me grab my phone. I can post this historic meeting on my Facebook and Instagram.” Tyler had a huge grin plastered across his face as he joined them.
Tracey glared at him. “If you so much as snap one picture of us together you’ll wish you hadn’t. Put a t-shirt on and stop walking around bare chested in the kitchen. And how come you’re up so early?”
Kyle smiled. “And wait son, she said all that without taking another breath.”
“Not even selfie with all of us? Come on, now!” Tyler teased.
“No! Now go!” Tracey said.
“All right,” Tyler said, laughing as he backed out of the kitchen.
Kyle filled a plate with food. “You’ve got him trained.”
“Yeah, well, I’m his mama.”
“He’s up early because we’re spending the day together. We’ll play some ball. I’ll take him out on the golf course with me. Grab some lunch and go out and shop.”
Kyle and Tyler. The boy loved his dad and dad loved his boy. A good thing. Still. It jarred Tracey to see how happy and content Tyler seemed when he walked into the kitchen. Like he wasn’t the least bit concerned about Brian or Brianna. Tracey shook off the thought and concentrated on scrambling more eggs. Tyler and Kyle would probably eat the first platter full themselves. As she heated up the skillet again, she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder and linger for a moment.
“You’re a great mom to him,” Kyle said, hugging her around the shoulders. “I mean it. I give you a hard time sometimes, but I couldn’t have asked for a better mother for my son.”
“Thanks,” Tracey responded. A half-smile creased her face.
He let her go then and moved back to his stool by the breakfast bar. She turned her focus back to cooking.
“So, tell me Mrs. Jones, you bring anything to wear out on the town?”
She snorted. “Of course not.”
“Well then you need to buy something. My friends and I are going out tonight and you’re coming.”
No way. Out of the question. “I’m not going out with you.”
“You’re right. You’re not going out with me because it’s a group outing. It’s my birthday, and I go out with my friends and have dinner and champagne. I invited you to stay in my house. That qualifies you as one of my friends, and you’re coming along.”
“No. I am not!” she restated.
“Tracey, you can’t sit around here one more night, moping and watching TV like an old widow.”
“No, I can’t. Actually, it’s time for me to make my way back to Philly.”
Kyle kept talking. “Everyone’s meeting me here at eight. You’ve got all day to go to the mall for something to wear and be ready.”
Tracey whipped around. “What part of no do you not understand? I don’t party and I definitely don’t drink.”
“Cool. So have dinner, sip some ginger ale, and listen to the music. Do this for me.”
“For you?”
He munched bacon with a sheepish look on his face. “I feel bad about last night. I shouldn’t have said … anyway, this is my chance make it up to you. Come on out tonight and have some appetizers, a good steak, and great company.”
“You’re not accepting no as my final answer?”
“Get a dress. Get some heels. Put on some makeup. Get your troubles off your mind
for a few hours. My friends will make you laugh—plus they’ll treat you like family.”
She turned back to the stove. The smell of cooked eggs wafted beneath her nose. She cut off the heat under the skillet. A bead of sweat formed on her brow. She wiped it away fast.
Tyler breezed back in. He took all of ten seconds to pile his plate full of food and sit at the bar next to his father.
“So what do you say?” Kyle asked.
Tracey had to shut the conversation down. “I’ll think about it, okay? There are some things I have to consider, like when I’m going to go back home.”
“Fair enough.”
“What are we talking about?” Tyler asked.
Kyle winked. “I told your mom she’s a good mother, and she needs to get out and relax.”
Shaking her head, she turned back to the hot stove. Tracey do this. Tracey do that. Why did her life seem so easy when other people tried to manage it?
At noon, Tracey paced the carpet in the guest bedroom, gathering together what little she’d brought with her that week. Forget about going to a birthday party. Brianna needed her. She could have packed up sooner, but she needed to wash some underwear, jeans and a t-shirt in order to get dressed for the day. While those items tumble dried in the laundry room, Tracey put everything else in her bag and plopped down on the bed. She snatched up her phone. She needed to call Tyler and let him know her plan to leave the Motel Addison.
The phone buzzed in her hands before she could call. Brian’s ID lit up the screen. “Hi.”
Brian’s voice came through tense and angry. “You should be back home by now. What’s the hold up?”
“Well, I …”
“I can’t believe this! What does it take for you? Does your daughter have to have a nervous breakdown for you to get home here?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. We are not playing this game anymore, Tracey!”
And this is the man who said they could talk all night after she returned? “I think you need to calm down,” Tracey admonished.
“I am calm. But I don’t think you heard me right this morning, otherwise you would have been at home when I called the house.”
Tracey’s eyes darted about the room. “I heard you loud and clear.”
“Then you know I gave you a plan. I expected you to follow it.”
“I was getting everything together to drive back home as soon as I talked to Tyler.”
“Good. You’re cooperating then. That’s a start.”
A nerve in Tracey’s temple twitched. She clutched the corner of a pillow in her clenched fist. Screaming at Brian was out—Ms. Celeste and Judge Addison were right outside in the side yard.
“Brian, I’m getting off the phone now.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours?”
“I’m getting off the phone.”
Tracey shut her phone off and tossed it to the other side of the bed. It could stay there. The nerve of Brian! Something must have ticked him off before he called. Whatever. Where was her bath towel? She snatched off her bra and panties, wrapped a towel around her torso and stalked out of the room. He must have lost his mind. He didn’t have to keep pushing like this. Like she was the one who started them down this road.
She race-walked down the hallway, made a pit stop in the laundry room to pull her warm clothes out of the dryer then closed herself up in the bathroom. She took a quick shower, dried-off, and pulled on her clean clothes in a record ten minutes. In the guest room she pulled her wallet and car keys out of her bag, left her phone on the bed, shoved her feet into her sandals and headed out of the house.
“Ms. Celeste,” she called out as she jogged into the side yard. “Ms. Celeste!”
“I’m here. What is it?”
“Where’s the nearest mall around here? I need to buy some clothes.”
Brian needed to cool off. No way could she go back home tonight. They’d be at each other’s throats by the time Brianna went to bed. And Tracey had a standing invitation for a good dinner and a chance to distract herself from everything. She would have dinner, listen to the live music at the lounge, thank Kyle for letting her stay in his home, and head out the next day.
What harm could it do?
30
The black silk halter dress skimmed over Tracey’s head, caressing her skin as she pulled it over and down to cover her hips. She crossed the room to the full-length mirror. Uh-oh. A little too sexy. The dress had looked like a simple shift when she’d pulled it off the rack a few hours earlier. Who would have thought it would cling to the little bit of curves on her thin frame? She had no choice but to wear it. Either that or put on jeans and a t-shirt. Forget it. Time to strap on the heels and keep it moving.
Smooth jazz music coming from the living room floated to her ears as Tracey applied her make-up. When she finished, she stepped back and surveyed her reflection. Her flat ironed hair hung sleek and straight to her shoulders—no more messy ponytail. Not bad! Not as good as she had looked in Atlantic City with Brian, but still, not bad. Too much drama since then. She shook her head and sighed. Just get through dinner tonight, Tracey.
She glanced at the wall clock. Eight-thirty. Brian was probably sitting up with Brianna, watching the Doc McStuffins DVD for the third time and seething. Why had he called her with such a bad attitude, making her go off half-cocked and not caring? Now, instead of cuddling her daughter, she stood alone in Kyle’s guest room wearing an “I’m too sexy” dress, missing her daughter and infuriated at her husband.
Someone tapped on the door. “Are you ready? Everyone’s here. Let’s go!”
Tracey adjusted the dress around her hips once more, and opened the bedroom door. “I’m ready.”
Kyle staggered back two steps. “You look … nice.” He dragged the last word out three syllables.
She smiled and said, “Thanks. You do too.” And he did. He wore a tan suit with a crisp white shirt and a patterned silk tie.
“Ah. This is nothing.” He brushed away the compliment with a wave from his hand.
Tracey walked ahead of him a few paces, then stopped and turned around. “Where did Tyler go tonight? I haven’t passed him or heard him walking around for a while.”
“He has friends here, two brothers who live down the street. He went by there to hang out tonight. Yesterday they told him their cousin from Miami came to visit. They said she’s supposedly is a dead ringer for Zendaya, so you know Ty had to go meet her.”
“Who’s Zendaya?”
Kyle shook his head. “Tracey, you really need to get out more. Seriously.”
“Whatever!” she retorted.
They reached the living room and Tracey looked around as Kyle did a fast round of introductions. “Everybody, this is Tracey Jones. Mother of my son.”
Everyone smiled and said hello.
With his arm around her shoulder, Kyle gestured to the men and women sitting about the room. “Tracey, over there on the couch is Lawson Evers and Zenobia Taylor. Lawson’s my accountant and Zenobia is his fiancée.”
Lawson was a bald man with rimless glasses and a warm smile. Zenobia, a dark brown-skinned woman with shoulder-length brown dreadlocks.
“Congratulations,” Tracey smiled.
“Thanks!” they said in tandem.
Kyle gestured over to the love seat. “Now, blondie over here—Danny Marshall—plays the best one-on-one hoops game ever. Don’t sit next to him at the lounge, or he’ll talk your ear off about classic jazz.”
The tanned man with twinkling blue eyes smiled at Tracey. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Tracey answered, smiling.
Kyle turned once more to point out a lady with long dark hair and medium-toned skin who looked like she might be Asian and black. “You’ve heard Sonia’s voice on the phone before, but this is the first time you’ve
gotten the chance to meet.”
Tracey said. “That’s right, Sonia Harris—you’re his office manager. You used to go to high school with Kyle.”
Sonia extended her hand to shake. “Yes. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
There was no telling what Sonia might know about Tracey since Kyle didn’t know how or when to shut up.
Kyle gestured to a large man with a friendly face. “And this is James St. Louis. He’s a school superintendent. I won’t tell you about his skills on the court because he doesn’t have any,” Kyle kidded as he slapped James on the shoulder.
“Nice to meet you Tracey. I’m ignoring him right now because there are ladies present and I’ve got some champagne here we need to open.”
“Let’s start the celebration!” Lawson stood, walked into the kitchen for glasses, and poured everyone champagne. When he brought her a glass, Tracey shook her head and put up her hand. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
“No?” Lawson raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah man, she doesn’t drink.” Kyle gestured toward the kitchen. “Can you get her some sparkling water out of the fridge?”
“No problem.” Lawson headed back toward the kitchen.
Tracey whispered to Kyle. “I know you have a date for the evening. Where is she?”
“We had … some words on the phone this morning but we worked it out later,” he whispered back. “She said she’d meet us at the restaurant.”
Glasses filled and passed out, Sonia led the toast. “To Kyle Addison, the best business manager and entrepreneur I’ve had the pleasure of working with. My old friend and the fantastic founder of NY Sports Management, who now has the pleasure of representing Ronnie Wesley of the New York Giants, among others. To our friend, brother, and life of the party. Happy birthday! Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Everyone echoed, taking sips from their glasses.
Kyle downed his drink then looked around the room. “Thank you, everybody. And I just want to say, I’m happy everyone could come out tonight. I had to convince a few folks to join us and have a good time …” He flashed Tracey a mocking look. “But I couldn’t start my year off right without getting together with some of my favorite people. Let’s go!”
Broken Together Page 21
