Almost Doesn't Count (11 page)

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Authors: Angela Winters

BOOK: Almost Doesn't Count
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“I'll call you?” he asked.
She sensed that he was more apprehensive than before. No doubt seeing her ex-husband's daughter at her apartment sent him a message that maybe Porter was still a big part of her life and always would be.
“She's a teenager,” Billie explained with a shrug. “It's not a big deal.”
He shrugged as if it didn't matter before saying good night awkwardly, as if he wanted to kiss her again, but also didn't.
Closing the door behind her, Billie returned her attention to Tara, who was fervently trying to make something to eat.
“You're not blowing up my kitchen again.” Billie grabbed the pot from her and pushed the box of mac and cheese farther away on the table. “Now what are you doing here? I know you still have a curfew and it's up in a half hour.”
“I need someone to talk to.” Tara backed up against the counter and pushed herself on top of it. Sitting on the edge, she played with her hands over her lap. “You totally ignore me, Billie.”
“That's not true,” she said. “You know this is complicated. I'm not in the mood to get into this with you. When you do stuff like this, you only make it more difficult.”
“Is that guy your boyfriend?” she asked. “Is he why you never talk to me anymore?”
“Stop it,” Billie ordered harshly. “Guilt tripping me isn't going to get you anywhere. I need to take you home now.”
“Are you having sex with him?” she asked.
Billie was shocked. “What in the hell? Why would you ask me that?”
Tara suddenly looked regretful and shy. “I'm curious. Like how long did you date before you had sex with him? How long did you date my dad before you had sex with him?”
Billie's first instinct was to get on Tara for asking such an inappropriate question, but fortunately she paused before letting it go. Looking at the embarrassed expression on the girl's face, she realized what was going on.
“Are you having sex, Tara?” she asked gingerly.
Tara didn't answer, only looked down at her hands.
Billie moved over to her and placed her hand on her arm, rubbing it comfortingly. “You can talk to me, baby. We've talked about sex before.”
“Don't turn into an after-school special on me, please.”
“I won't.” Billie wasn't sure how to handle this. She knew that Tara would have sex one day, but she was only fifteen. “But you need to tell me. Are you having sex? Are you thinking about it? Are you on the pill? Do you use condoms?”
“Stop with the twenty questions,” Tara said, leaning her arm away from Billie.
“Okay,” Billie said. “I won't talk. I'll just listen.”
After a short pause that was killing Billie, Tara finally spoke up.
“It's Greg,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He's been talking about it a lot. He wants to do it.”
Greg was Tara's first real boyfriend. Billie had met him only once when she'd had lunch with Tara at the National Zoo and chaperoned their date, which was the only way Porter would let her go out with him. He seemed like a nice kid. Billie liked it that he seemed like a bit of a nerd. She thought it might make him a little safer than the wannabe hustlers going around high schools these days. It looked like she was wrong.
“All that matters,” she said, “is what you want to do and what you're ready for. Tara, you're only fifteen. You're too young to . . .”
“I don't want to lose him.” Tara was suddenly on the verge of tears.
Billie was angry now. “Has he threatened to break up with you if you don't have sex with him?”
“No, but . . . What if I don't? I mean, what am I supposed to do? I can't talk to Dad. He doesn't even listen to me when we're in the same room together. He's always working and you're always working, and now you have a new boyfriend, so you're just gonna . . .”
“Hold on a second,” Billie said. “That is not my boyfriend, but nothing could make me turn my back on you. I'm sorry I've been so hard to connect with, but I'm here now. You and I will figure this out together.”
“You can't tell Dad.”
Billie's heart sank. “There is no way I can keep this from him, Tara. He's your father. I'm not your stepmother anymore. Even if I was . . . he has a right to know this.”
“Know what?” she asked. “What if I don't do anything?”
“Which I'm hoping you won't.”
“If I don't, he doesn't need to know.” She buried her face in her hands. “It's too embarrassing.”
“This is about more than embarrassment, sweetie. Sex is about your health, physically and emotionally. Even if you decide not to do it now, it is a part of your life, and you need your dad's guidance.”
“Can you just take me to a gyno?”
“I will definitely take you to a gyno,” Billie said. “But not without Porter's knowledge. I just can't do it.”
“So you can't help me!” Tara hopped off the counter in a huff. “I might as well be talking to him.”
“No, I will help you. Tara, I will work through this whole thing with you, but—”
“Forget it.” Tara brushed past her. “I gotta catch a cab.”
“No, Tara.” Billie realized she wasn't going to stop, so she grabbed her purse and went after her. “Tara, wait!”
6
I
n the middle of her ranting and raving about how difficult Nate had been these past few weeks, Erica realized that Terrell was just sitting across from her at the dining room table in her living room, leaning back in his chair with a content look on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He reached for a french fry from his plate and popped it in his mouth. “Go on.”
She was frustrated by his nonchalant attitude. “You're not taking me seriously, Terrell. This boy is driving me crazy.”
“He is not a boy,” Terrell said. He wasn't going to stop reminding her of this until she kicked Nate out and made him make his own way in the world. “But that ain't the point. Go ahead with what you were saying.”
“Fuck it,” she said. She reached for a glass of wine and took a sip. “You don't seem to want to hear this.”
“What?” He raised his hands in the air. “I'm listening.”
“But you aren't sympathizing,” she complained. “I love that thing you do.”
“What thing I do?” he asked, smiling.
She laughed flirtatiously. “You know, that thing. How you're always like,‘yeah,' or,‘how dare they!' ”
He laughed. “You know I'm always supporting you.”
She threw a french fry at him. “What's so funny? You've had that smirk on your face all night.”
“I might have some good news,” he said between chewing the fry he caught. “But I want you to talk first. A gentleman always lets a lady come . . . I mean, go first.”
“Stop being dirty.” She pointed a finger at her. “Tell me your news.”
Terrell looked very satisfied. “I got Nate a job.”
Erica yelped and jumped up from her seat. She rushed across the table and landed in Terrell's welcoming lap. “Tell me everything.”
Terrell explained to her that a friend of his, Donnell, was second lead on a construction project in the Friendship Heights neighborhood of DC. They were looking for some extra help doing general lifting and delivery. The friend owed Terrell a favor and he called it in. Terrell told Nate earlier that day.
“How did he react?” Erica asked.
“He seemed grateful. We had a long talk about how he's been acting lately. I think he's going to get better. At least this job will keep him real busy.”
Erica was grateful for that. The last thing any young man in DC needed was a lot of free time, especially one who seemed to be in a constant bad mood like Nate, which just invited trouble.
Terrell held her tighter, loving the way she smelled. “Now, it's only for the summer, but it pays seventeen dollars an hour.”
“That's more than he made at the hospital.” Erica suddenly felt bad, thinking about the hospital.
“I know what you're thinking,” Terrell said. “You still want him to go back to the hospital, but, baby, you can't make Nate some symbol for your mother.”
“I know.” She lowered her head, nestling it in his neck. “I just hate the way that ended. Mom wouldn't have liked that.”
“I told him that you would help him write a letter of apology to the hospital. He said he would be okay with that.”
She slapped him on the chest. “Bullshit.”
Terrell shook his head. “It took some convincing, but I think our Nate is about to get his shit together. Who knows? Getting fired from that hospital might be the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“I can't believe you did this for me, baby.” She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him to her. She kissed him on his lips passionately and tickled his ears.
He leaned away and looked into her eyes as if he was searching for something in her joy, something not for her, but for himself. “I would do anything for you, baby. I want to be with you forever.”
“I love you,” she said softly.
She knew that she never stopped loving him even when she was angriest.
“I love you so much, Erica.” He sighed. “If it wasn't for me fucking up with Jonah, we would be just a few months from our wedding right now, and I will always regret that. But if you can really find it in your heart to forgive me, I know we can get on that path again.”
She knew he wanted to talk about getting married again and this frightened Erica. She knew she wanted to be with him again in a committed relationship, but her heart told her she had to take this slow.
“Speaking of Jonah,” she said, trying to change the subject.
“Please don't.” He rolled his eyes.
“He wants to hear from me. His father died.”
“Baby, I do not have a single fuck to give about anything that happens to that man.”
“Terrell, his father is dead. It's sad.”
“Are you sure he didn't kill him?”
“Okay, that's it.” She tried to get up, but he grabbed her and held her down.
“Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but you aren't thinking about going to see him or anything?”
“How would I do that?” she asked with a smirk. “Agree to meet him out back by the shed so we can share a few tender moments without anyone seeing? Fuck that. No, but I was gonna send flowers.”
“He doesn't deserve it,” Terrell said.
“He's an orphan now,” she said. “I kind of know how that feels.”
“Listen to me, baby.” Terrell's face held a serious stare. “That man is a manipulator. He will play on your sympathy. Men like him, that's what they do. That is how they get where they are. He'll have you supporting him while he's still treating you like a shameful secret. Give him an inch . . .”
“He'll take a mile,” she said, nodding. “You're right. Forget the flowers.”
“Forget all about that man,” Terrell said. “And concentrate on this one holding you. This man wants you and wants the whole world to know how much he loves you and how happy he is that you're in his life.”
As she kissed him tenderly, Erica was only reminded of how much she missed this man for so much more than the way he made her feel when he touched her.
 
Sherise wasn't sure when she started to doze off in bed, but as soon as her iPad fell into her lap, her head shot up. It was only nine
P.M.
and she was falling asleep? What was she becoming? Yes, she had been running errands all day and dealing with Cady. She'd made dinner and finally got Cady to bed after her bath. Still, she was way too young to be this tired this early.
And she was angry. Justin hadn't been very helpful that day. She had left him alone mostly because he was dealing with some family drama. His father was retiring and his parents were sending him all types of financial questions and it was stressing him out. She knew she should have comforted him, but there was a voice in the back of her head still curious about his trip to Philadelphia.
Listening to the shower running in the bathroom, Sherise realized that she had an opportunity to investigate in that moment. Marking her place in the book she was reading on her iPad, she placed it on the nightstand and got out of bed. Going over to their closet, she looked through the clothes set aside for the cleaners. Whenever Justin came back from a trip, he placed his clothes on the short stand next to the rack to let Sherise know they needed to go to the cleaners.
She quickly ran her hands through the pockets of his suit jacket, suit pants, and the pair of jeans on the stand. She didn't find anything. Looking over the rack, she searched for the shirt she had packed for him. It was a baby blue with navy stripes Hugo Boss shirt, but upon grabbing it, she realized it had no pockets.
Leaving the closet, she made her way to the dresser inside the bedroom. The top three drawers were hers and the bottom two, his. She knelt down and opened the drawers, riffling through his underwear and socks. She started laughing to herself, because she had no idea what she was looking for. This kind of suspicion of Justin was new ground for her.
Closing the drawer, she stood up with her hands on her hips. She was about to turn and head back to the bed when she realized what was sitting on top of the dresser right in front of her. Justin always emptied his pockets out there and the contents would stay there until Sherise removed them or nagged him enough to clean it up himself.
There was some change and little pieces of paper. The first thought that came to her mind was a taxicab receipt. Would she find one from a DC cab on Wednesday around noon?
There was nothing but a couple of ticket stubs and a receipt for coffee at Starbucks. She grabbed the coffee receipt and noticed it was for the Starbucks at the Reagan National Airport on the day she picked him up. She was about to put it down when something caught her eye.
The time on the receipt said one fifteen
P.M.
She checked the date again. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason she felt she needed to. This receipt was saying that he bought coffee at the airport Starbucks at one fifteen on the day she picked him up. But she didn't pick him up until four thirty
P.M.
Grabbing the plane ticket stubs, she checked the time. Flight 821 from Philadelphia got into Reagan National Airport at 3:55
P.M.
that day.
“What in the fuck?” she whispered to herself, looking toward the bathroom.
Just then, the shower turned off and Sherise quickly put the ticket stub down and returned to the bed. It would be a few more minutes before Justin emerged from the bathroom, but that was more than enough time for her mind to wander all over the place.
“What?” he asked upon noticing the angry expression on her face.
“I didn't say anything.” She was sitting up on her side of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, staring him down.
Justin rolled his eyes and he reached for his laptop sitting on the chair just outside the bathroom.
“I'm tired, Sherise. No time for twenty questions. You wanna tell me what's wrong or do we just go to bed with you angry?”
“It's not like you to lie to me, Justin.”
Just about to slip into bed, Justin froze in place. He looked at her confused. “What have I lied about?”
“You tell me,” she said.
“Oh, fuck this.” He got into bed and reached over to the nightstand for his reading glasses. “You've been acting weird since I got back, and I'm not in the mood to try and decipher you.”
Sherise turned sideways to face him. “You used to love trying to figure me out.”
He looked at her as if he was feeling a little guilt. “I still do, baby. Just not tonight. I just want to get some rest.”
“Speaking of since you got back, let's talk about that.”
“About how you keep giving me weird looks?”
Sherise didn't really know how to play the game from this end, so she decided to just go for it.
“No,” she said. “About how you were in the airport for hours before your plane supposedly landed.”
He flipped open his laptop and turned to her, his dark eyebrows slanting downward. “You're not making any sense.”
“I noticed your receipt from Starbucks on the counter there.” She pointed to the dresser. “The receipt said you got coffee at one fifteen. Your flight hadn't even left Philadelphia then. So how are you having coffee in a DC airport when you're supposed to be in Philadelphia?”
Justin looked confused. “Is this some kind of a game? Because I'm not amused.”
Sherise's lips thinned tightly to express her anger. “Do I look like I'm trying to amuse your ass?”
Justin's expression hardened. “What do you think I was doing, Sherise?”
“Don't fuck with me, Justin.”
“Then don't fuck with me,” he said back. “I don't know what you're getting at, but I stopped by the Starbucks after I got off the plane. I finished it just before you arrived.”
“But the receipt says—”
“I don't give a shit what the receipt says. Obviously the Starbucks computers are off. What do you think I did? Did I get an earlier flight in and just hang out at the airport for three and half hours?”
“Maybe you did, or maybe you . . .”
“Did you look at my plane ticket stubs? They say the time of my flight. While I can't vouch for the coffee store's register computers, airlines sure as hell aren't going to fuck up the time on their tickets.”
Sherise stared him down as he looked at her a second before making a dismissive sigh and turning his attention back to his computer.
“Billie said she didn't have any idea you were even going to a conference last week, and usually they—”
“Billy works on the legal team. She wouldn't . . .” He sighed before turning his entire body to face her. “Look, Sherise. I don't know what you're getting at, but I think I have an idea. I understand why you would think I was messing around. It's not far-fetched.”

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