The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (22 page)

We were done with the planning in time for Adam to pick up Ethan from golf practice. He hugged me as we stood. The check I’d received no more than nine hours ago had relieved the pressure that had become the frighteningly normal state of our lives. But heaviness hung between us with the thought of the true cost of this money and what we had to do. …

As I watched Adam pull away in the Kia, I pushed thoughts of what was to come from my mind. We had fourteen days before we had to face that; I didn’t want to waste the little bit of good feelings I had right now.

Adam tapped the horn lightly and waved. As the Kia disappeared
down the block, I wondered how much longer that car would last. By the end of the weekend, we’d probably have at least one new car—paid for in cash, if I had anything to do with it. No one here would ever witness a car repo again—at least not from in front of this house.

When laughter drifted down the staircase, I leaned against the front door, reveling in the sound. There was a high cost to what we had to do, but if it made my children happy and if it brought security to Ruby and if it gave my husband peace, then we were doing what we were supposed to do.

For the greater good.

Chapter 35

T
HE COUNTDOWN BEGAN.

Two weeks stood between me and the day when I’d have to turn over my husband. But the fact that the thirty-first of December was quickly approaching seemed to be a concern of mine alone.

Adam showed no signs of having thoughts of Shay-Shaunté, New Year’s Eve, or any part of our deal. From the moment we deposited that money, his focus was only on his family—and re-creating the life that we’d once known.

He started when he returned home with Ethan … and a Christmas tree. Our son dashed up the stairs to drag his sisters down to the living room for the surprise. My three children
oooh
ed and
aaah
ed as Adam hauled in the Virginia pine and steadied the eight-foot tree in the stand. The girls grabbed the decorations from the basement, and the rest of the night was filled with holiday cheer—carols streamed through the surround-sound
speakers, glasses filled with eggnog, and the children chattered on about the grand Christmas that was to come.

I was present with my family in body only; my thoughts were far away, on the fifteenth day from now.

That night, though, Adam and I made love with a gentleness, an easiness, a loveliness that reminded me of our beginning. Through his kisses, Adam told me that I was his shine, the one who made his day bright. Through his touches, he told me that he loved me most, and that he would always love me best. And when we united, he told me that no one, nothing, could ever touch us or separate us. We would be one, forever.

The next morning, I awakened satisfied and at peace. Then at seven, the telephone rang.

“Girl!” Rachel blasted through the phone. “Don’t even think about getting up and leaving your house. The office is closed.”

“What?”

“Yeah, girl. Right after you left yesterday, Shay-Shaunté called a meeting with all the executives, and shut … the … place … down.”

“Why?”

“All she said was that she was ecstatic about a deal she’d just made and she wanted to go home to celebrate.”

Oh, my God! She was talking about me and Adam.

Rachel continued. “She said that she’d been working on a project for a long time, for a couple of years, actually, and she’d been told that she was about to be paid.”

I hadn’t even realized that I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled. Shay-Shaunté
hadn’t
been talking about me and Adam—not if this was about something she’d been working on for so long and certainly not if she was about to get paid. We weren’t paying her—at least not monetarily.

Rachel said, “So anyway, girl, that’s the deal.”

“Are we still off next week?”

“Oh, yeah. She announced that we could pick up checks next Friday. HR will be open, if you don’t have direct deposit. But Shay-Shaunté won’t be there. She was going around telling everybody that she had big plans for her birthday.”

If she wasn’t talking about us before, she was now. Big plans? For her birthday? If I had time or tears, I’d have just sat down and cried.

“Did … did … did she say what her plans were?” I whispered.

“Nah, girl. You know how private she is. But I know you know something.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Please! All those closed-door meetings—just the two of you. What’s up? What you know about her birthday?”

Even though Rachel couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “I don’t know anything … you know … about her birthday … you know … or about … her plans.” I could hardly get the words out straight.

“Dang, girl.” Rachel laughed. “Why you stuttering? If it’s a secret, I’m cool. Whatever she’s gonna do, I just hope she parties the night away. I hope she finds somebody and hooks up, ’cause sometimes, I think all she needs is a good lay.” Rachel laughed. “Yeah, I hope she gets it good. Just like I hope to get it with James on New Year’s.”

The best thing that ever happened was Rachel turning the conversation to herself, because I couldn’t have taken another “Shay-Shaunté needs to get laid” comment. For a few minutes, I listened to Rachel talk without interruption, about her continuing plans to snag the longtime unrequited love of her life.

But though I said, “Oh,” and “Yeah,” in all the right places, after what Rachel just told me, the only thing I could think
about was the fact that there were just fourteen days until I had to pay.

That’s how I began to measure time … not by the ticking of the clock, not by when the sun rose and set. For me, time was measured in how many days until I handed my husband over to Shay-Shaunté.

After Rachel’s call, Adam and I spent the rest of the day at Pearly Gates, meeting with Ms. Johnson, paying the past due amount, and then writing a check that would cover Adam’s mother for the rest of the year. Once Ms. Johnson checked to see if the funds were good, we insisted that Ruby be moved back to her room; then we stayed for four hours more, until it was done.

The weekend—days thirteen and twelve—moved at space shuttle speed. We spent more money as Adam gave the twins one thousand dollars each for Christmas shopping and then took all of us to buy a new car.

“I’m so glad we’re getting another Escalade,” Alana said.

“I’m so glad you got a new job!” Alexa exclaimed.

My husband had worn an everlasting smile from the moment he’d realized that two-point-five-million-dollar check was good. But Alexa’s words took a bit of the light from his face. I guessed Adam didn’t see what he was about to do as a job, though that was the only way for me to look at it.

Then on Sunday, we joined Bishop Cash, Brooklyn, Ta-mica, and a host of other Holy Deliverance members for our first after-service brunch in months.

“Did it go down already?” Brooklyn whispered to me as we strolled in front of the others into Georgia Brown’s.

“No, not until next week. You know, on Shay-Shaunté’s birthday.”

“That’s right. New Year’s Eve. So, y’all still gonna do it?”

I shrugged. And lied, “I’m not sure.”

“Uh-huh.” All kinds of doubt was in Brooklyn’s tone. “Well, something’s up with y’all.”

When Alexa ran over and asked if she and Alana could sit at a table by themselves, I was so grateful for my self-centered child’s interruption, since I really didn’t want to talk to Brooklyn about this.

On days eleven and ten, the twins had their own activities, meeting with friends to go shopping, to the movies, to lunch and dinner, while Ethan’s best friend, Dougie, and his dad took our son to a couple of indoor driving ranges.

Adam and I spent those days behind his desk doing more planning. It took us hours to negotiate a deal with the bank; I thought paying off a large mortgage would be easy. Not! Next, we spoke to the administrator of the children’s school to arrange for payment for the rest of the year, and I even talked Adam into paying some of our smaller bills, like our cells, and cable, and the utilities, and the phone and Internet, several months in advance.

“I know you’re going to find another job,” I told Adam every time he said the best way to use this money was to put it away and let it work for us. “But this way we’ll never have any concerns again.”

“We won’t have concerns anyway, Shine. Not with all of this money in the bank.”

“I know, but remember this is only half. Let’s do it this way with this part of the money. The other half, we’ll save when we get it after …”

After.

I’d done it again. Taken the sun out of our day with that single word.

On day nine, Adam and I went to see my mother, bringing Christmas to her three days early.

When Adam counted out all the one-hundred-dollar bills
(we couldn’t give her a check because no one who lived in that apartment—my mother, Cashmere, or Twin—owned a bank account) my mother fell back on her dingy sofa and gaped at the pile of money in her hand. It was five thousand dollars, but more money than my mother had ever seen at one time.

“This is all for me,” she gasped.

“Yes,” Adam replied, while I stood next to him with my arms folded.

I wasn’t the happiest camper in the park. When Adam had told me he planned to do this, I’d asked him if he’d lost his mind. He knew my mother. Giving her that much money was like giving it to a child. She’d have nada before the weekend was out.

Adam acted like he had total faith in the woman who’d raised me. But he knew that I was speaking the truth.

“Now, Marilyn,” Adam began in a tone that sounded like he was speaking to one of the twins. “I haven’t found a job yet, so this is gonna have to last you a couple of months.”

Yeah, right
was the look my mother and I both gave him.

He continued, “You’re not going to be able to keep running back to us—”

“I hear you, I hear you,” my mother said, trying to stuff all of those bills into her bra. “I won’t be asking for anything more.” Then she asked, “Can you break off a little something there for Cashmere and Twin?”

So much for not asking for anything else.

On day eight, I slept. Well, most of the day. With the twins and Ethan out of the house again all day with friends, Adam and I stayed in bed, talking through new plans for our future.

“I’ve been thinking about starting my own business,” Adam said. “Why should I sit around and wait for someone to give me a job?”

“That’s a good idea.” I really thought it was; I just had no
idea what kind of business Adam would be looking for, since being an entrepreneur had never been his dream.

“I’m gonna do some research on the Internet and go to some seminars.”

I nodded. “There’s an entrepreneurial conference coming up in a couple of weeks. I just saw the ad on TV.”

“I’ll definitely go to that.”

For the whole day, we dreamed in bed (and did other things) and imagined the wonderful state of our future—though for me, wonderful couldn’t begin until after the deal was done.

Day seven—Christmas Eve—was all about faith, family, and friends. First, we went to the noon service that Holy Deliverance held every year, then the five of us battled traffic and made it down to Pearly Gates.

The children were relieved to see their grandmother back in her old room. While Ruby sat, staring out the window, Alexa, Alana, and Ethan chatted about their hopes for their gifts tomorrow. The best part was when they each gave Ruby something they’d picked out for her. They had to unwrap the gifts, of course, but now Ruby’s dresser held a candle encased in a shell-covered glass from Alexa, a picture frame engraved with
Grandma’s Lovelies
with a picture of the twins from Alana, and a journal with a silver pen from Ethan. To them, Ruby’s Christmas was now complete.

Finally, we ended the late night with dessert at Brooklyn and the Bishop’s mini-mansion in Vienna, Virginia, along with other friends, many of whom we’d known back in the day. We sang carols, told old tales, and wished each other Merry Christmas after Cash read the story of Jesus’ birth from each of the four gospels.

Day six was a Christmas to remember. The children
received so many gifts—most from Adam but many others as well, including even a few from my mother. Then, once we all finished unwrapping presents, Adam put his hands over my eyes and led me as I stumbled to the front door. He swung it open, and there in the driveway was a Lexus coupe wrapped in a gigantic red bow—just like in those commercials.

Even though I was trying to be responsible, I couldn’t say that I wasn’t thrilled; I just hoped Adam had paid cash.

As the girls drooled over my car, Adam said, “Get ready; you guys are next.”

The girls had been so thrilled, with their father’s words, that I’d reconsidered my position on Range Rovers being too expensive for sixteen-year-olds. Maybe if Adam got a good deal on used ones, I would come around before their birthday.

Then Christmas passed. I had to start counting down to the lowest numbers. On day five, I spent the afternoon in the bathroom with diarrhea. Then on day four, my emotions were released from the other end—I spent the day hugging the toilet. On day three, I decided to stop eating altogether. There was no need; I couldn’t keep anything down anyway. And on day two, I discovered that I didn’t have to eat—the white wine that Adam kept in our bar filled me up something lovely.

But though the wine kept me from eating, it didn’t keep me from thinking. My head was filled with all kinds of questions—the same questions I’d always had. But with the wine, the questions kept replaying … like, how would Adam feel … after? After being with an older woman. After being with a worldly woman. After being with a rich woman.

Would Adam be able to come home, truly come back? Would he be able to get Shay-Shaunté out of his mind … after?

I wasn’t trying to be a masochist; it was the wine that made me keep asking stupid questions.

I kept telling myself—and the wine—that the deal was done, the money was spent. Questions. Answers. None of that mattered.

The time had come. It was time for us to pay Shay-Shaunté.