Almost Doesn't Count (12 page)

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Authors: Angela Winters

BOOK: Almost Doesn't Count
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“Excuse me?” she yelled.
“After all, you barely have sex with me anymore.”
“That is not all on me, and how dare you suggest that it's okay to—”
“I never said it was okay,” he argued firmly. “I just said I understand why you'd be suspicious. I have reason to be suspicious, too. You sure as hell aren't interested in having sex with me, so I can wonder who you might be having it with.”
“How dare you!” Sherise scoffed.
“I'm not cheating on you, Sherise.” He closed his laptop and placed it under his arm as he got out of bed. “But I'm not sure how much more of this shit I can take.”
“ ‘This shit'? What shit is that?”
He stood at the edge of the bed. “The shit where you welcome me with a freezing cold bed and then accuse me of cheating. That shit.”
“It's not all me!” She yelled after him as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.
Billie looked out at the Potomac River from the little corner she had procured for herself on the massive yacht. The sun was setting and the boat hosting the annual must-be-at charity gala was heading out of Georgetown harbor for an evening cruise. It was a beautiful evening somewhere in the low seventies, and the light breeze moved against her, causing her flowing baby blue chiffon strapless dress to slide across her smooth skin. It felt good. She felt sexy.
“I found you.”
Billie didn't turn around. She waited for Robert to approach the rail she was leaning against before turning sideways to face him. He looked amazing in a tuxedo as he handed her a glass of wine.
“You trying to hide from me?” he asked, leaning against the railing as if he were a male model doing a photo shoot.
Billie sighed. “I needed to get away from all the panicky investors who seem to view the world in terms of the Dow and the S&P.”
“Don't forget the NASDAQ.” He held up his glass and she clinked it with her own. “You know I'm not like them.”
“I didn't say you were,” Billie answered.
“But you're thinking it,” he said. “You're wondering if I'm real or if I'm one of them.”
“Them being power-hungry, materialistic capitalists.” Billie put her hand over her mouth, surprised at her own words. “I'm so . . . I can't believe I just said that. I'm really—”
“It's okay.” Robert reached out and placed his hand on her right shoulder. “You finally got it off your back. Feel better?”
Billie smiled and tilted her head. “Actually, it does. It feels great.”
“Maybe this will feel even better.”
Billie looked into his eyes as she felt his hand move up her neck to her face. She felt like she was floating when his lips finally met hers. The kiss started off smooth and soft just like their last interrupted kiss. But suddenly it grew harder and Billie felt her body begin to heat up. Something was wrong. No, not wrong . . . different. Something was different.
She leaned back, opening her eyes, and gasped at what she saw. It wasn't Robert anymore. It was Porter.
He smiled a wicked smile and said, “I realized you were planning to ignore me all night, so I thought I'd come and say hi to you.”
“You can't kiss me anymore.” She pushed him away, but he didn't budge. “You can't kiss me at all.”
“What's the difference?” he asked, seeming confused. “Me or Robert, we're both the same. Despite what you keep telling yourself, this is obviously what you want, baby.”
Billie was shaking her head furiously. “I don't want another you.”
“You don't know what you want,” he said, annoyed. “Let me show you what you're supposed to want.”
He was leaning in to kiss her, but Billie wasn't having it. She pushed against him with all the might her petite frame could manage. He didn't budge, but the force of her push made her back away. She backed into something.
Or someone.
“Evening, Billie.”
Billie swung around to come face-to-face with Ricky Williams. He was smiling at her in a way that told her he knew that she was attracted to him so there was no point in pretending.
“No,” she protested. “This can't happen. You're my client.”
“You can't deny what you feel,” he said.
“I don't even know you,” she insisted. “Just because you look good doesn't mean I want you.”
“Well,” he said, seeming unfazed by her rejection. “Let's see if this makes you want me.”
His face leaned in to her as his eyes closed.
Billie's eyes shot open as she sat up, startled, in her bed. She felt her heart beating ten million times a second. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was three in the morning and everything around her was pitch black. She was at home and in bed, not on a yacht in the Potomac. It took her a few seconds to get her wits about her, but once she had, things weren't any better. What was her dream . . . no, her nightmare, trying to tell her?
“To hell with all men,” she said. “I just don't need this.”
 
“Sherise!” Billie snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face twice.
Sherise snapped out of her mental vacation and came back to the present. She was sitting in the bar area of Circa in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of DC, catching an after-dinner drink with the girls, but her mind had been a million miles away.
“What?” she asked.
“What is wrong with you?” Erica asked, sitting across from her at the small table. “Billie just mentioned that she's meeting Porter . . . alone, and you have nothing to say?”
“I didn't hear that,” she said. “Why would you do that?”
Billie knew her lack of reaction was too good to be true.
“Don't worry about it,” she said. “He can't seduce me any longer. I am so over him. When I dropped Tara off at his place, he asked if we could talk, but I just drove off.”
“I have faith in you,” Erica said, her voice holding just a hint of uncertainty.
“I don't,” Sherise countered. “There's nothing you have to say to that man you can't say over the phone.”
“Tara considering being sexually active is not really phone conversation,” Billie said.
“Please tell me you talked her out of it,” Erica said. “She's just a baby.”
“She isn't,” Billie said. “That's the point. To us, she seems like one, but today, their hormones are crazy and their bodies are so developed, I just . . .”
“It's in a public place right?” Sherise asked. “Do you need me to come with?”
“Stop it,” Billie ordered. “I'm not under his spell anymore. I've moved on.”
“Have you though?” Erica asked. “I'm not getting any fireworks vibe from . . . what's his name?”
“Robert,” Sherise answered for her, “and he's perfect for you. You better cultivate that shit.”
Billie was suddenly uncomfortable, even though she shouldn't be with her girls. “I don't know about that.”
Sherise studied her. “Don't screw this up, Billie. He's a good catch.”
“Have you even kissed him?” Erica asked.
Billie nodded. “It was okay, but I think . . . I have to tell you guys something and you can't judge me, okay?”
Both girls leaned in for what they assumed would be juicy news. Billie told them about her disturbing dream.
Sherise rolled her eyes. “You just need to get over that shit right now. It doesn't mean anything.”
“Dreams can tell us a lot about how we feel,” Erica said.
“Look who suddenly turned into Oprah,” Sherise said. “Of course you want to encourage this. You date beneath you, why not encourage Billie to do the same.”
“He's not beneath her,” Erica said. “And Terrell is not—”
“It doesn't matter,” Billie said. “Erica is right. He isn't beneath me. He's done quite well with his life.”
“He has a record, doesn't he?” Sherise asked. Upon seeing Billie's eyes diverted, she said, “For fuck's sake, Billie.”
“Really?” Erica cringed. “I don't know about that, Billie.”
Sherise reacted. “The only reason Terrell doesn't have a record as long as my arm is because he's just smart enough to not get caught.”
“I will throw this drink in your face,” Erica warned, lifting her cosmo. “Besides, this isn't about Terrell. This is about Billie and Ricky.”
“There is no Billie and Ricky,” Billie said. “It was just a dream. And he sort of invited me to a concert.”
“He asked you out?” Sherise asked. “Fire him as a client. Or give him to someone else.”
“I am not giving up my first pro bono case,” Billie said. “I don't know if it was really a date.”
“Did you say yes?” Erica asked.
“No. This is what I'm trying to tell you. I can't date him. It's against the rules.”
“Good.” Sherise finished her Americano cocktail. “Then it's settled. Back on Robert. When are you gonna sleep with him?”
“Can we not go there?” Billie asked.
“Just do it,” she urged. “Take it for a test drive and see if you like it.”
“Stop trying to live out your ho life through other people,” Erica said before looking at Billie. “I think the dream is telling you that you don't want Robert.”
“The dream isn't telling you shit.” Sherise sighed impatiently. “It's just a fucking dream. If you screw up this thing with Robert, you'll have to answer to me.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Erica asked. “And why are you being such a raging bitch tonight?”
“Have we met?” Sherise asked. “I'm always a raging bitch.”
“You're being a bit more of one tonight,” Billie said. She was eager to get the attention of the group off her. “What's going on with you?”
“Nothing.” Sherise opened up her purse on her lap, pretending to be busy looking for something.
This was a lose-lose situation for her. Yes, she should be able to confide everything in her girls, but her episode with Jonah changed the dynamic. They knew she was a cheater now, even if they thought she cheated only once. With Billie's experience as a cheated-on spouse and Erica's constant self-righteous judgment, Sherise didn't feel comfortable telling them she thought Justin was cheating, even though it was pretty much all she was thinking about. She had to think of something quick.
“I'm just nervous,” she said. “I'm meeting with Jerry Northman and his team tomorrow night and I might be working for his presidential campaign.”
“What?” Billie looked shocked. “What is this about? A job?”
Sherise updated them on her conversations with LaKeisha.
“What does Justin think?” Billie asked.
“He . . . um . . .” Sherise went back to her purse.
“You haven't told him, have you?” Erica asked. “Mmm.”
“Stop it,” Sherise scolded her. “You don't know the situation.”
“That you're keeping secrets from your husband,” Erica said. “Is that not the situation?”
“Erica,” Billie warned.
While Sherise was the one to usually start their fights, Erica was in one of her judgmental moods and that only made things worse. Billie realized she was going to have to be the peacemaker . . . again.
“Justin knows I'm unhappy being a stay-at-home mom,” Sherise said. “He knows that I might want to do something more.”
“Last I heard, he knew you were trying to get pregnant,” Billie said. “How does this work together?”

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