I thought it would be unbearable, but I found it was nice to miss her. Nice to find the pieces of her that went unnoticed when she was there and became precious when she wasn’t.
I drove to my address. I had only one bag to bring in. She bought me clothes but said they were for her house. For her closet. So I would have a place there too. Wasn’t that what boyfriends and girlfriends did?
It made me smile. I fished my keys out of my pocket and smiled.
The door opened.
I went inside. Ready to answer emails to binge watch the shows I abandoned because Cash didn’t like them for one reason or another.
“Welcome home, Cahir.”
I didn’t think. I just stepped back into the hall and let the door slam shut millimeters from my nose. How had she gotten in?
Twenty
Cahir
I took a deep breath. Another. One more. Hand on the knob but, no, I still wasn’t ready. My hand shook. Shook. Why? It was just O’Shea.
I knew of the New Money Girls, the original three, before the fourth was added. Two sugar babies and an escort. They fucked the right men and got rich. They flaunted their wealth and their beauty throughout the City and didn’t care how the women felt about it. Except for O’Shea. It was whispered that she was the wildest, the one to fear. The other two ignored the women, the wives. O’Shea befriended them. They cried on her shoulders and told her their secrets. They ate weekly at her restaurant. Threw parties, board meetings, fundraisers, their children’s weddings and rehearsal dinners there. And they knew. They knew for the right price she would sleep with their husbands right under Domingo’s nose.
They loved her in spite of it. Sometimes I wondered if they loved her because of it.
Long locs fell down her back. Gold hoops at her lip and septum declared she didn’t give a fuck so there was no point in asking. And there was paint. Paint everywhere since she’d retired from sex work and revealed she was the artist whose work graced most of our walls. If we were lucky enough. Rich enough. Paint everywhere but on the crater of a diamond on her left ring finger that threw light like a supernova.
I heard she was married. I was happy for her. In another world, I would have danced at that wedding. In another world, I would have called her my sister.
And the only reason why she would be sitting on my kitchen counter with a salad in her lap and a perfectly symmetrical sandwich beside her was if that other world was trying to barge its way back in.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. It was quiet when it closed.
“O.” I called her the same thing Zion sometimes did when she talked to me about the friend, the sister, she loved most.
And it must have been right. She beamed at me.
Not that it mattered. O’Shea wasn’t a woman that needed favors. What she didn’t have her husband could afford. Or she could scheme her way into. She was a businesswoman. A good one. But she didn’t want to buy anything. She would have gone to my office. No. This was personal. This was about Zion.
I kept my eyes on her. The way I did my cousin Connor’s snakes. I found them fascinating. Beautiful. And I knew they would be fascinating and beautiful after they bit me. I threw my keys into their place. Put my bag down. And she watched me. No. More than that. I felt her sizing me up. Studying me. I decided then that she was not a person I would want to meet in a dark alley.
She crunched on the salad.
Start easy. “Did you make a-Did you make dinner?”
I leaned on the counter she sat on and peered into the bowl. Damn. It actually looked pretty good.
“Of course not. I’m having dinner with Guy later.” The hand that wasn’t shoveling food into her mouth brushed across a necklace.
I whistled before I could stop myself. I thought I was territorial. I thought I had a problem with marking my territory. How many diamonds were on that necklace? And would Cash let me put a necklace around her neck that said “cherished” in the swirling font exclusive to bamboo nameplate earrings found in the back hallway of the mall?
She laughed. “This is a snack.”
I don’t know why, maybe it was the same magic she threw over those wives, but her laughter shifted something in me. I took her fork and tasted her salad. It was good. “Some snack.”
She looked almost wistful. Then apologetic. “She’s back.”
No shit. I snorted. “She never left.”
Her eyes narrowed. Snakes, I reminded myself, snakes.
“She’s pregnant,” O’Shea said. “Pregnant, pregnant.”
The fork fell out of my hand. It barely made any noise when it hit the ground. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear around the ringing in my ears.
I stood there with it. That word. Pregnant. The world shrank to nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I knew I would die in that nothing space. I wanted to. It would be better that way. I didn’t want a baby. I didn’t want to tell Cash.
Cash.
How in the fuck was I going to tell Cash?
I picked up the fork and got two clean ones. I took small bites of O’Shea’s salad. If I was eating, I couldn’t vomit, right?
We finished the salad together. Then O’Shea pulled the prettiest Damascus knife I’d ever seen out of a holster around her ankle.
“Don’t tell Guy,” she said.
“That you have a knife?”
She rolled her eyes. “That I’m using it to cut a sandwich.”
I almost asked what else the knife was for then I remembered the rumors that Guy had turned both of Domingo’s ankles to dust. I chose to laugh at the absurdity of the situation instead. I took half of the sandwich when she offered it to me and almost died. It was perfect. She turned the charcuterie Cash and I snacked on when we were too lazy to cook and made it something otherworldly. I would crush a man’s ankles for her too.
“She never left?” There was sympathy, concern in the words. For me.
Yeah. I would have liked having her as a sister. “Emails. Notes taped to my door or slid under it. Flowers. Foods we liked. In the beginning she would be there. The lobby of my building. Restaurants I was at. I used your name a lot. With the restaurant managers. To get some privacy.”
“I know. Why do you think you got the privacy in the first place?”
We laughed. And it was more familiar. Easy.
“I never pressed it.” I took our empty dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. “She never approached me. It was like she just wanted to make sure-”
“-she stayed on your mind.”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand over my face. “Could have told her I didn’t need help with that. And I didn’t want to hurt her more than…”
I shrugged. What else was there to say? Was there a good way to explain it?
“She stopped. Maybe four or five months ago. The notes, the appearances. All of it just stopped.” I didn’t mention the flowers. Those didn’t count. The surprise restaurant appearance didn’t either.
“She was showing. In a way she couldn’t hide.”
And I knew. I heard O when she said it. But suddenly it was new and I understood. “She’s pregnant?”
“Gotta be due soon. Weeks, max.”
Weeks. No. I did the math. Not a few weeks. If it were mine, I had twelve weeks until my child was born. And that wasn’t enough time. Not enough time to decide. Not enough time to tell Cash, to make her see that I didn’t want to go back, that I wasn’t going back.
The same anger that made me put my fist through a mirror rose up in me. If O’Shea weren’t there…
“I’m going to make it worse.”
O’Shea sat her phone on the counter beside her and there was Zion’s voice as she told her sisters that she’d poked holes in the condoms. All of them. That she got pregnant on purpose. Because that was supposed to fix our relationship. That was supposed to tie me to her forever. I heard shattered glass and the word rapist. I heard O’Shea promise Zion that she had better pray she wasn’t pregnant because O’Shea would never let he
r raise a child.
“I’m a woman that keeps my word.” O’Shea’s eyes were cold. “That means all of our lives are going to change. And it isn’t just you. You have to think of her.”
Oh, yes. Snakes were fascinating and beautiful and knew where to strike. I let my face fall into a smooth mask and confusion enter my voice. “Her?”
O’Shea looked proud of me. The way a mother did when her child brought his ugly drawings. There was patience there. Kindness. “There’s too much food in this kitchen. Too much wine. Candles all over. You have bondage tape and condoms in your freezer. Great idea, by the way. Stupendous. So, yes. Her. What will she say?”
It was one thing to have someone break into my home. Another to have them break into my life. And I knew. I knew what Cash would say. I knew how she would react. I knew how her body would move when she left me.
“She’s important, right? You love her?”
“Can you-” I almost choked on my voice. My words. “Can you go?”
She put a hand to her middle. It was the second time she did that. And she hopped off my counter. “No problem. It’s time for me to go tell my husband I’m pregnant anyways.”
I really choked and said the first thing that came to mind. “Life ruiner.”
And we laughed. Until she walked out of my front door.
Then I laid my forehead on my counter and cried.
Twenty-One
Cassidy
I never called Kevin my boyfriend. We laughed and we fucked but we never reached that level of intimacy. And then I found out we never could.
There’s something about losing even the possibility of a thing that cuts like a bitch. To know that even if you wanted it, and you didn’t before, you couldn’t have it. It becomes almost an obsession. It chases you through your own mind and taunts you with your lack. Because that’s what it is. You aren’t even good enough to have the things you don’t want.
I took a deep breath before I told Cahir that I was his girlfriend, that yes, it was okay. And still the fear rattled me. There was nowhere to hide. If losing the possibility of a thing was a bitch, what was losing the real thing? What would it feel like to have it snatched from my hands?
But that was worry for no reason. Worry I didn’t need to borrow. Because it was Cahir. My Cahir. My friend. The best one. Even if love wasn’t enough friendship would carry us through. I knew that. I felt that.
I smiled at him when he left my apartment. Then I didn’t hear from him for a week.
On the first day, I remembered that he had a big pitch coming up. I remembered the last pitch and how he locked himself in his office with his team. The fifteen hour work day he pulled. The way he said it was best that way. He could focus on one thing. And he was glad I understood that. So I didn’t say anything. I just had dinner delivered.
On the second day, flowers arrived from him with a note about Miami and what we did in the cabana. I blushed and I dug out more lingerie. I went to his house and stretched across his bed. I woke up in that bed alone the next morning.
The third day I called. Even his secretary didn’t answer.
On the fourth day, I forgot how to breathe. That was what not having him was like. Forgetting how to do something you never thought to do before. I didn’t know where to eat lunch. What to talk about. What to laugh about. I didn’t know how to have conversations with clients, with Junie. I didn’t know what to eat for dinner or to watch on tv. I didn’t know how to sleep.
On the fifth day I dug. And then I dug a little more. I shoved things out of the way and dug deeper still until I found anger. I dragged it up to the surface and wrapped it around me. I cursed myself for a fool.
Because the anger wasn’t real. If I felt rejected, the anger would have been real. If I didn’t trust him, the anger would have been real. If I thought he would betray me, betray his word, the anger would have been real. But there was none of that. There was only worry.
Was my friend okay?
Cassidy
On the seventh day I called Junie and Gran and begged them to come to my apartment. Junie’s hair was the exact same pale pink as the bubblegum she popped.
“So what is this? A ‘we hate men’ session? A general cry? A ‘let’s just pretend he doesn’t exist’?”
I shrugged my shoulders and plopped down on my couch. “I don’t know.”
“Then I don’t know whether to give you Hennessy or water. Help me help you.”
“Is there Hennessy in your purse?”
She pulled out a bottle. “And wine in case you wanted to cry. That’s glamorous.”
“What if I want to forget he exists?”
“Then I’m pouring you a glass of water. Drunk bitches always remember the one thing they shouldn’t.”
I laughed and laughed.
“Well that’s a nice sound.”
“Gran.” I ran into her arms.
“I brought you food. You sounded stressed. You never eat when you’re stressed.” She put a plastic bag full of styrofoam containers on the counter.
“Mother’s?” Oh, God. Most of it would be better if she brought me food from Mother’s, the best soul food restaurant in Strawberry Fields, if not the whole city.
She nodded. And Junie jumped up off the couch to grab a container out of the bag.
“Hey! I’m the one in crisis here. Shouldn’t I eat first?”
Junie rolled her eyes at me. “Girl, please.”
We sat and ate. Gran and Junie kept the conversation moving. They even made me laugh. And then the food was gone, silence fell, and I knew it was time.
“I haven’t heard from Cahir in a week. Not a text. A phone call. A-nothing. I call his office and there’s nothing.”
“What do you think happened?” Junie piled up our empty containers and threw them away.
“Now why would she speculate about that?” Gran let one eyebrow rise. “Why would she make excuses for someone that doesn’t care enough to make them for himself?”
Junie nodded. “That’s fair. Okay. Better question. What are you going to do about it?”
“What?” That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. That wasn’t something I wanted to consider.
“Auntie May is right,” Junie said. “We can’t worry about why he did what he did. We can worry about what you’re going to do next.”
Gran nodded.
“I-” What was I supposed to say? “I don’t know.”
“Bitch, if that’s all you’ve got to offer, you could have sat by your damn self in the dark.” Junie unwrapped another piece of gum. “Try again.”
“I want him to tell me why.” I felt like I was going to be sick. “I want to know if this is who he is. If he thinks this is okay. And I want him to…”
“Finish,” Gran said.
“I want him to give me answers and if he can, I want him to come back. I want him to be mine.”
“That’s real cute,” Junie said. “You should do all of that. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” That soon? Didn’t I need time to pick out the right outfit? To rehearse what I would say and what he might say? To visualize the right outcomes?
“I’ll drive,” Junie said.
When Gran nodded and patted my shoulder, I knew the decision was made. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ready, that I couldn’t swallow the fear that in less than twenty-four hours I might lose Cahir forever.
Cahir
I died a little bit after O’Shea told me. Every day. Just a little bit more of me broke away. Pieces of the future I imagined for myself, my life with Cassidy. My business. God. I spent hours in my office. I had to know if it was possible. Could I be a father and still be myself? Could I-
I didn’t want Zion. Hearing that there was a baby didn’t make me want to go to her. It didn’t make me pity her. It didn’t make me angry with her. It just made me sad. Tired. I couldn’t sleep at home with Cash’s plants and the sheets that smelled like her. I slept in my office and dreamed of the baby. Always a little gir
l. Always. My eyes and her mother’s grace. A smile that lifted me and made me promise over and over again to protect her and give her the world.
Then the dream changed. My little girl torn out of my hands. Zion’s screams. Disappearing again. But with my baby. A hostage. My beautiful little girl was a pawn and a tool. A way to control me. Because that never changed with Zion. It was never about me. Never. The only worry was if she was happy.
I would wake up and the dream would follow me. It didn’t matter. I told myself that. It didn’t matter if Zion wanted to use a baby against me. I would give her money for the kid. I would tell her that they could both stay away from me. And I would be free to live my goddamned life. I could have Cash.
I walked around with that for a day. I considered it. I could just not tell her. I could pay Zion to keep away. I could have my lawyers draft something. I could get a restraining order. And Cash would never know. I wouldn’t lose her. I would be happy. I would make her happy.
But I had the scars on my hands to remind me of what it was like to have the ability to make decisions for yourself taken away. I knew what it was like to have secrets break you. I knew what it was like to realize the person you loved was so selfish they were willing to hurt you if it meant their happiness.
And if she stayed? If Cash stayed once she knew? She wasn’t the kind of woman to want a man that ignored his child. She wasn’t the kind of woman that would agree that money and a blind eye were the answer.
And so it went. Back and forth. Over and over in my head. I didn’t sleep. More caffeine. Coffee in the morning and energy drinks at night. Wrinkled shirts and pants until my assistant took pity on me and went to my apartment to get me clothes.
After a week of that, I called myself an idiot and went home. I showered. I changed the water for my plants. I stopped at my favorite coffee shop and got an Americano. I stepped into my office at 7:45 in the morning and felt almost like myself. And then I saw O’Shea sitting behind my desk.
Better as Friends Page 10
