Grown Folks Business (28 page)

S
heridan slowly closed the door, then clapped her hands. She looked at the clock. It was three thirty sharp, and she had done it, gotten everyone out of the house. Tori, this morning, for a Girl Scout outing. Then Christopher, just now, on his way to Darryl’s house with his golf clubs. It seemed she’d put sufficient fear inside him. It had only been a few days, but Déjà appeared to be a memory.

Now she could wait for Brock in peace and not worry about his bumping into either of her children. And even if Tori or Christopher came back unexpectedly, there would be no surprises. Brock wouldn’t make it past her living room.

Sheridan looked in the mirror, smoothed her knit skirt and turtleneck top, then dashed up the stairs for her pumps. As she started back down, the doorbell chimed. It was only three forty. He’d said fourish, but obviously he was as anxious to see her as she was to see him. She took a last look in the mirror and then swung the door open wide. And her eyes widened as well.

“Quentin.”

He stepped inside as if she were waiting for him.

“What are you doing here?”

He frowned and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders. “You wanted to talk about Chris.”

He tossed his jacket over the settee and then sauntered into the living room. Her eyes moved from his jacket, to him, back to his jacket. And she thought,
I’ve really got to get rid of this chair.

With quick steps she followed him. “I can’t talk about Chris right now.”

He turned, and as if he were just seeing her, he said, “You look great. Got plans?”

“Yes.”

“A Delta meeting?”

She shook her head.

“Something at church?”

She crossed her arms and shook her head.

He stayed quiet, as if he expected an explanation. When she offered none, he shrugged. “So what’s up with Chris?” he asked, as he sat down.

“I just said, not right now. I’m on my way out.”

“Well, we can talk while I walk you out.”

You are just too nosy, Quentin.
“No, I have a few other things to do before I leave, but I’m in a rush.”

He slapped his hands against his legs. “Okay.”

Sheridan had never seen him move so slowly. She glanced at the clock again, and when she looked at him, Quentin grinned.

“So,” he began, as he took his time shrugging into his jacket, “where are you going?”

“That’s not something we need to discuss.”

He smiled slightly. “Let me know when you’ll have time to talk.”

She nodded. “I will, but I think Chris is fine now. He and Darryl went to play golf.”

“So he’s settling down?”

“Seems to be. We all are,” she said, looking straight at him.

“That’s a good thing. What about his new girlfriend?”

“A girl of the past.” She opened the door. “But we’ll talk about this later.”

He grinned. “I can take a hint.”

“Took you long enough to take it.”

“I just wanna know what’s going on.”

“We have separate lives, Quentin.”

He lost his grin. “Sometimes that makes me sad.”

She didn’t say what she wanted to—that she was moving away from the sad. “I’ll call you, maybe tomorrow.”

Quentin got into his car and then sat for a minute before he slowly rolled out of the driveway. She didn’t breathe until he was out of sight. She was tempted to peek around the corner and see if he was waiting, but she chuckled at that thought. She didn’t care if Quentin saw her with Brock. She just didn’t want Brock to be surprised.

She dashed up the stairs again, grabbed her purse, and as she came down the steps, the bell chimed.

She swung the door open, and this time she moaned.

“Hey, girl,” Kamora said, and stepped inside without an invitation. “Was that Quentin’s car I just passed?”

“Probably.”

“What was he doing here?” Kamora plopped down on the settee, and Sheridan knew for sure she was getting rid of that seat.

“He wanted to talk about Christopher. But I don’t have time right now.”

“I hear that. Girl, I am so tired of this. I was home alone last night, and then tonight I was supposed to be going out with Roger. But he just canceled. I don’t know what’s going on in my life right now.” She sighed.

“Kamora, I would love to talk, but I can’t.”

Like Quentin, it took a minute for Kamora to notice. “You look good, girl. Going out?”

“I have something to do.”

“Answer my question.” Kamora stood and circled Sheridan, looking her up and down. “Looks to me like you have more than something to do. Looks to me like you got some
one
to do.”

“Kamora…”

She grinned and stopped in front of Sheridan. “So, who’s the guy?”

Sheridan knew she didn’t stand a chance of getting Kamora far away unless she gave up the news. “I’m going out with Brock.”

Kamora frowned. “Brock?” Then her eyes widened. “Brock. Brock!”

Sheridan sighed.

“You mean Brock. The take-you-to-bed, then-don’t-call-you-for-a-week, hiding-his-sorry-behind-until-he-gets-good-and-ready Brock?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Kamora dismissed Sheridan’s words with a wave. “You’re just saying that because you’re so—” Her words were interrupted by the door chime once again.

Sheridan pointed her finger at Kamora. “Be nice. I’ll explain later.”

Kamora rolled her eyes as Sheridan opened the door.

“Hey…” Brock greeted her but stopped when she put her hand on his chest.

She smiled and motioned toward Kamora. “Come on in, Brock.”

He stepped inside. “Hello.” His greeting was cautious.

The grunt Kamora gave him couldn’t pass as any kind of welcome.

“Kamora,” Sheridan said her name slowly. “This is Brock Goodman. Brock, this is my ex–best friend, Kamora.”

He extended his hand; Kamora took her time taking it.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Um-hmm.” This time it was Brock whom Kamora circled like a vulture. “So you’re the man who has my friend—”

“Kamora!” Sheridan shouted, as she pushed her toward the door. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

“Call me tonight.” Kamora paused and looked at Brock, and just before she opened her mouth, Sheridan closed the door in her face.

When she turned around, Brock was leaning on the banister, watching her. “So I’m that man who has you…what?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea what she was going to say, but I know that I’m glad to see you.”

He pushed her back against the door and kissed her. She soaked in as much of him as she could.

When he pulled back, he said, “So now go get dressed so we can get out of here.”

She frowned. “I am…” And then she noticed his jeans and navy shirt. Her eyes wandered to her own outfit. “Where are we going? You didn’t say.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. But wherever, we’re going to have fun. Don’t have to worry about first impressions anymore. So go change, woman,” he teased.

She grinned. “Okay.” Before she could climb the first step, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. “Hurry back.”

She didn’t need the stairs. She was sure she could have just jumped up to the second floor, because Brock Goodman had her floating.

Once again Brock didn’t ask where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. For some reason, she liked that, until Brock took the Magic Mountain Parkway exit off the 5 freeway.

“You’re kidding, right?” Sheridan chuckled.

He grinned. “Don’t you wanna take a roller-coaster ride?”

I’ve already been on one with you.
She laughed but then stopped when he turned the car into the colossal parking lot. “You’re not kidding.”

He shook his head, bouncing as if he were moving to a beat only he could hear. And she remembered again: he was still in his twenties. This was his idea of a good time.

Sheridan remembered the last time she’d visited the theme park. Christopher had been eight or nine, and the day had been full of headaches: running after children, standing in long lines, and trying to bear a heat that baked her brain. She’d sworn off ever returning and from then on left this children’s task to Quentin. “I’m too old for this,” she’d told Quentin then.

She remembered those words she’d said almost a decade before as she looked up at Brock. And then she forgot them when he gave her his smile.

He grasped her hand and they passed through the ticket gate. Even though it was Saturday, the lines were March light and flowed with ease.

“Okay, what do you want to do first?” he asked, opening the park map.

Sheridan shrugged. “You’ve done all the planning. I’ll just go with whatever.”

“You sure you can hang with me?” He laughed with his eyes.

She accepted the challenge, snatched the map, and pointed to one of the attractions. “Let’s go here.”

“You sure you want to do Scream?”

She frowned, not sure she liked the name of that ride. But how bad could it be? “Yeah, let’s go.” She stopped when he stared at her. “What’s wrong? You sure you can hang with me?”

He snickered and grabbed her hand, and they weaved through the streets of the park, finding their way to Scream. As they stood in line, Sheridan strained to get a view of the ride, but it was hidden behind the building and bushes. But neither hid the screams of terror coming from those already on the roller coaster.

It’s just a ride.

“Have you been to Magic Mountain before?” he asked, as they moved closer to the front.

“Yeah, with the kids, but not too much. Amusement parks aren’t my thing.”

“I love them. It’s the only place I know where I can scream without anyone staring at me as if I were crazy.”

I’ve got to be crazy,
she thought, as the squeals became louder.

The line moved too fast, and Sheridan held her breath as she stepped to her place in the ride. She frowned as the assistant helped her. “Where do you put your feet?” she asked, as she was strapped in.

Brock laughed. “You leave them dangling. We’re going to fly through the air,” he said, as the attendant walked away.

I’m too old for this.

Then she heard the final click and the jerk of the beginning of the ride. She looked at the attendant with fear-filled eyes before the ride slowly moved forward. She wanted to yell to the operator to let her out, that she had made a mistake, that grown women didn’t do things like this. But as Scream increased its speed, Sheridan closed her eyes and did the only thing she could;she screamed. And then she prayed for God to keep her safe. And after the first one-hundred-fifty-foot drop, she screamed to God to let her live.

She was trembling when the three minutes of terror ended and Brock helped her from her seat. “Wasn’t that great?” he yelled, as if adrenaline was still thickening his veins.

All Sheridan wanted to do was bend down, kiss the ground, and promise God she would never do anything that stupid again.

She held on to his arms because her legs had not yet figured out they were on solid ground.

“Wow, I hadn’t been on that one,” he exclaimed. “That was great. Which ride’s next?”

The ride home.
“I don’t know.”

He looked at her. “You okay?”

“I will be as soon as I tuck my heart back into my chest.”

He laughed. “Okay. Maybe we’ll stay away from the rides for a bit. Wanna get something to eat?”

She nodded, even though she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hold anything down. But at least it would keep her away from flying through the air as if she were some kind of trapeze artist.

Once they settled at a table at the Chicken Plantation, Sheridan relaxed and devoured her fried chicken and fries as if it were her last meal.

Brock’s eyes showed amusement, and she expected him to say, “See, you can’t hang with me.” But he said nothing, and when they finished, he took her hand and they strolled through the park. He stopped to order a funnel cake (with extra sugar), which they shared, and then he ordered popcorn (with extra butter), which they shared as they watched the exotic bird show in the Baisley Theatre.

The sun had set when Brock, with his arm around her, led her from the park. She leaned against the car’s headrest and closed her eyes. Only music filled the car on the hour-long ride back into the city. Two blocks from her home, Brock pulled over.

“What’s wrong?”

He said nothing before he kissed her. “Thank you for another great time,” he said, when he leaned back. He put the car back in drive and slowed it in front of her house.

“Maybe I’ll see you in church tomorrow?” she asked.

“Is that your way of saying you want to see me again?”