Getting Even (18 page)
Lishelle
I
’d be lying if I said that Annelise’s words didn’t affect me in any way. That and what Adam did to Claudia after how long they’d been together. Both scenarios have been playing themselves over in my mind since I got back to my place, and here I am in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling in my room, unable to sleep.
I’m not thinking too highly of men right now.
Of course, this extends to Glenn. I’m remembering how he broke my heart in college. At first, there were the rumors of his cheating that I always ignored. Then there were the slips of paper I found with phone numbers on them. I let him explain those away, too. I knew he was fine, and unavailable—a combination that to many women is irresistible.
I remember how, after we had a tryst during the summer after our breakup, I reflected on how the true attraction between me and Glenn was purely physical.
But do people make a sexual connection last over two years? And why am I even thinking of the past? Glenn broke my heart, yes, but that was ten years ago. What’s a twenty-two-year-old guy to do when there’s constant pussy in his face? Now in his thirties, I don’t expect the same kind of behavior from him.
I glance at the clock: 3:33 a.m. Damn, I have got to shut my brain down. In less than four hours, I have to be up and looking my best. I’m one of four media personalities from Channel Four who will be heading to a McDonald’s in downtown Atlanta for a fund-raiser.
I’ll be donning a McDonald’s uniform and serving up burgers and fries. Fifty percent of today’s proceeds will be donated to a children’s ward at a local hospital.
It’s the kind of day where I’ll be facing fans for hours on end. I’m going to need to be able to smile.
If I’m going to smile, I need to get some sleep.
I close my eyes and start counting sheep.
The first half of my day was brutal. My face actually hurts from smiling so much.
And it’s not over yet. I still have to do the six o’clock broadcast.
“How great was that?” Randy Harmon, a fellow on-air broadcaster asks me when I pass him in the hallway en route to my office. His voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Gaawd. If I never do another one of those fund-raisers, it’ll be too soon.”
Randy chuckles. “Come on—you don’t like smelling like lard?”
I try to think of a humorous comeback but can’t. “Ah, no.”
“See you after you shower.”
“Later.” I continue past Randy to my office. But no sooner than I’m there, Linda Tennant, the station manager, peeks her head in.
“I heard you were back,” she says.
“Barely.” I smile sweetly.
Linda sits down on the sofa, clearly not taking the hint that I’m not ready to chat. “There’s a story breaking in Macon.”
I pull my blouse out of my skirt. “What kind of story?”
“Connor House. The—”
“Haven for children suffering from terminal cancer,” I finish for her. “What about it?”
“Twelve children and their families were supposed to be leaving for Orlando this morning. But when they went to the airport, they found their reservations had been canceled.”
“What?”
“Uh-huh. The money for the trip came from the Wishes Come True Foundation right here in Atlanta. Well, it was supposed to.”
“I know that foundation very well. My best friend’s fiancé is the president.”
Ex-fiancé.
“I know. That’s why I’m talking to you about this.”
I take a seat beside Linda. “What exactly happened?”
“The Wishes Come True Foundation wrote the check, but apparently it bounced.”
“Wow.”
“From what I understand, the foundation is supposed to be financially sound.”
“It is. They had a fund-raiser about a week ago that brought in over a hundred thousand dollars. Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I was hoping you could fill in a few more blanks.”
I shrug. “I can’t.”
“I know Adam Hart is a good friend of yours, and I didn’t want to run this story before talking to you about it. In case there’s something going on here that our researchers haven’t found out.”
“Let me talk to Adam. I’ll see what he says. But I’m sure there must be some mistake somewhere.”
Linda pushes herself off the sofa. “All right.”
When she leaves the room, I head for the phone. I dial both Claudia’s numbers, but she doesn’t pick up. I’m worried about her. I wonder if she’s back to moping and hiding from the world.
I do the six o’clock broadcast, and finally I step into my house after 8:00 p.m. I head straight to my kitchen and check my phone.
The red light isn’t blinking, which means there are no messages.
With all the drama over the past two days, I’ve all but forgotten about Glenn. But it finally hits me that he didn’t show up last night as he said he’d try to do. Not only that, he didn’t call.
Annelise
“I
told you that son of a bitch was boning someone else,” Samera says, her lips twisted in a scowl. She’s dressed in short-shorts and a bra, and is sitting in front of the window AC unit in her apartment with one leg pulled up onto her chair. She’s busy painting her toenails a shade of ocean blue.
Across from her, I’m sprawled out on her sofa, where I slept last night at my sister’s insistence, but already I’m regretting that I did. I was hoping against hope that she’d spare me the Charles-is-a-cheating-asshole lectures and simply offer me comfort.
No such luck.
“I hope you sue his ass for everything he’s got.” She takes a drag off the cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill. I don’t know how she can smoke and paint her nails at the same time. “Men. I fucking hate them.”
“Amazing—considering what you do for a living.”
“And the longer I do it, the more I see that men are such pathetic pigs I can hardly stand looking at them.” She closes the nail-polish bottle. “Do you know how many married guys come into the club for business lunches and end up in private rooms with the girls who are willing to put out? And you wonder why I vow to be single for life? If only I didn’t like the feel of a big cock deep inside me so much…”
I put my hands over my ears. “Too much information.”
“Oh, you don’t like a big cock?”
“I don’t remember what one feels like!”
Samera’s eyes light up as she grounds out the remains of her cigarette. “Hey, if you want, I can hook you up with someone. I’ve got a few friends who can blow your back out, that’s how great they are in bed.”
“Sam!” I protest in disgust. We don’t really talk about our sex lives, except that she knows I’m not getting any from Charles. But the last thing I want to know is how many “friends” she’s slept with. Or, God forbid, sleep with one of them. That’s a very scary thought.
“That’s exactly what you need. Instead of moping around here on my sofa. Ooh, there’s Lorenzo. He’s a bouncer at the club, and if you want an Italian Stallion—”
“Please, Sam. Let’s just drop this, okay?” But the mention of an Italian Stallion has me thinking of Dominic. His brother hasn’t been back to the studio, so I’m sure they’re hiring another photographer. Damn, Sebastian and Helen had seemed so eager.
They’re not the first ones to seem eager and then not hire me.
Why did I throw away Dominic’s number?
“There’s always Tyrell. He’s another bouncer. Kinda looks like Will Smith. The man is
hot,
and I swear, his tongue is as big as his—”
“Samera!”
“I’m just trying to help,” she tells me. “And honestly, I think it’s the best thing for you. Jump right into the next relationship to forget about Charles.”
“Maybe that works when you date a guy for a few months, but Charles and I were together for years.” Just saying the words, and the reality that he told me he’s in love with another woman, has my stomach twisting in a painful knot. God help me, what am I going to do?
Samera gets to her feet and walks toward the kitchen. “I wish I didn’t have to work tonight. We could go clubbing or something. Take your mind off of the shit head.”
“I’m not in the mood for clubbing.”
“Which is exactly why you need to go out.”
I love her, but my sister and I are never on the same page. What I need is to have a bitch session with
Sex and the City
playing in the background. I need to be able to cry my eyes out on a caring shoulder.
But Lishelle is busy with work, and Claudia has her own problems.
“I’ve got to get ready,” Samera tells me. “But before I go, can I get you anything? Some wine, vodka, beer? I’m all out of Ecstasy pills, but I’ve got some weed in my bedroom.”
“I’m fine,” I reply, unnerved. “Sam, you keep weed in the apartment?”
“Sure,” she says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then her eyes widen and she gapes at me. “Don’t tell me you still don’t get high.”
“You know I’m not a fan of marijuana.”
“Mom may be in Alabama, but it’s like she’s still right here, in this room. Tell me you at least believe in oral sex.”
“What does getting high have to do with oral sex?”
“Guys don’t like their women to be boring in the bedroom. I’m just wondering…”
I can’t help glaring at her. “Charles was very well satisfied, thank you very much.” And now I have a worse headache than I did when I came here last night. Why did I think this would be the answer?
Samera walks toward me and draws me into a hug. “I’m sorry. You know all I care about is your happiness.”
“Yeah,” I answer softly.
“And I say fuck Charles. Just make sure you get your half and move on. Don’t beg or do any crazy shit like that. It’s over, Annie. And I for one think it’s about time.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better.” Thank God Samera is leaving. I don’t think I could take a night of her “support.”
She pulls away from me and glances at the clock. “Oh, fuck. I’ve got to run.”
“Shall I wait up? The club isn’t open that late on a Tuesday night, is it? Maybe we can watch a movie when you get back.”
“I won’t be home until after three.”
“Amazing. The weekend I can understand, but Tuesday?”
“Actually, weekdays can be very lucrative. All those businessmen in town.” She smiles. “But I’ll see…I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well, if you can, that’d be great. If you can’t, I’ll understand.” Samera starts for the bedroom. “And Sam?” I quickly call out.
She stops and looks over her shoulder. “Uh-huh?”
“I think I do need something. Wine’ll be great.”
“Red’s under the sink and the white’s in the fridge. Drink all you want.”
At nine o’clock, there’s a knock on the door. I raise my head from the sofa with caution. Should I answer it? I know it’s got to be someone for Samera, so what’s the point? Besides, I feel like shit. The cheap red wine Samera had isn’t doing much for my headache, and I’ve been intermittently crying over Charles and cursing him.
There’s another knock. It sounds more insistent. Moaning softly, I lower the volume on the reality dating show I’m watching and pull myself up off the couch.
I drag my feet all the way to the door and peer through the peephole. I jerk my head backward when I see the face of an attractive man with olive-toned skin.
“Annie?” I hear him say through the door.
“Who are you?” And how does he know my name?
“Sam asked me to come.”
Great, I think. What’s this about? Nonetheless, I swing the door open.
The mystery man grins at me as his eyes drink in every part of my body. “Sam was right. You’re really hot.”
Please don’t tell me this man will be hanging around until Samera shows up. “Is there something you’re supposed to pick up for her?”
He gives me that look again, like he’s trying to undress me with his gaze. I don’t like it. I cross my arms over my chest.
“You could say so,” he answers.
“What does that mean?” I think I sound a bit testy, but I can’t help it. I’m not in the mood for games. I want to go back to wallowing in my misery.
He steps over the door’s threshold. “Hey, Annie. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He winks.
“Please just tell me what Sam wants you to pick up. I’ve got a migraine, and I’m not in the mood to be friendly right now.”
“I thought Sam told you. She said she was sending me over to cheer you up. She kind of hinted that you might need…” His voice trails off, but his eyebrows move up and down suggestively.
It takes another second for me to realize what he’s getting at. And then my jaw hits the floor. “Oh my God. Now I get it. You’re the Italian Stallion.” Holy shit—did I just say that?
“So I’m told.” He grins proudly.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what my sister made you think about what…what to
expect,
but I certainly didn’t tell her that I wanted…you know.”
“She said it’s been more than a year for you.”
Oh, lovely. Thanks, Samera. Why not take out a billboard? And while you’re at it, let the whole world know that my husband has dumped me for a woman thirteen years older than him whose ass is the size of a horse’s!
“My sister shouldn’t have discussed my sex life with you.” To my surprise, Lorenzo seems disappointed. “No offense, Lorenzo, but I’m not in the mood. For sex with anyone right now. But if I
were
in the mood, I’d be seriously tempted to…you know. Because a guy women call the Italian Stallion’s got to be—” I take a deep breath, wondering when I had this much wine to make my tongue so loose. “I just want to be alone.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I insist.
He nods. “All right.”
“But thank you, anyway.” Was that the right thing to say? Was it totally stupid? I don’t know. I have no clue what’s appropriate in these situations.
I close the door and lock it, but look through the peephole once more. Lorenzo stands there for a moment, like he’s dumbfounded, before heading off down the hallway.
“Damn you, Sam.”
In the morning, when I’m sober and rested, I’m out of here.
The question, of course, is where do I go?