The One That Got Away (17 page)

F
rom a distance, he recognized them both and was immediately stunned. Though he'd never met her in person, Tony recognized Zora's mother—his mother—even from a distance. As Zora and the petite brown-skinned woman at her side approached from the other end of the airport's baggage claim carousel, he marveled at their resemblance. The similarity in their postures, in the way their hands circled the air in broad gestures, down to their matching profiles, advertised their shared bloodline. His heart aflame, Tony coughed uncontrollably, several times, and doubled over, his hands clamped to his knees.

The jumbled emotions traveling through him left him nearly senseless. He heard voices surrounding him but couldn't perceive their meaning. His mouth went dry and pasty, and his vision blurred as if he'd slipped on a pair of his grandfather's jacked-up bifocals.

She loves me.

Who is she to bring her ass here like this?

Mommy!

What the hell does she want?

She's here for Zora, to show her love for both of us.

Told Zora not to try this; she wasn't my sister, she'd get her ass kicked.

“Tony?”

Zora's voice rose above the crowd, nearly tapping him on the shoulder as he pondered whether to stay or to go. His hands balling into fists, clenching and releasing, he shut his eyes before turning around. “Damn,” he whispered under his breath.

When he opened his eyes, Zora and the woman he'd loved to hate stood before him, each with a small overnight bag in hand, each wearing a perfectly phony smile. Zora's was at least offset by the mischievous, earnest glint in her eyes. “What's up?”

The overhead lights in the carousel began to flicker on and off, making Tony feel as if his eyes were in a constant blinking motion. Trying to fix Zora in his sights, he heard his voice drag like a record played at the wrong speed. “I told you not to bring her here.”

Lights flashing on and off, Zora stared up at Tony, her eyes growing empty and clueless. “Why wouldn't you want to see Mommy, Tony?” she said. “What's wrong?”

His response was a deep, guttural roar. “What did I tell you!” He looked toward his mother, who still looked something like the photos Zora had shown him, with the exception of a few stray moles, and raised a hand. “I'm not ready!” As Zora and his mother drew back in horror, the lights snapped off again, and the room went pitch-black.

 

His own heavy breathing filling his ears, Tony at first ignored the ring tone purring just underneath the sound of his breath. When it didn't go away, when it in fact intensified to a point he couldn't ignore, his eyes snapped open and he realized he lay in his own bed, still dressed in a wrinkled dress shirt and slacks.
As if,
he thought. A dream was the only place his mother would ever come looking for him.

After wiping some butter from his eyes, he reached around two empty Bud Light bottles on his nightstand before punching the
SPEAKER
function on his phone. “Hello?”

A feisty woman's voice snapped across the line. “Is this Tony Gooden?”

His protective instincts stirred, Tony matched her attitude. “Who is this?”

“Who said you can raise my boys better than my own damn family?”

Grabbing up the beer bottles and removing his tie, Tony finally caught the voice. “Wait a minute, this isn't Evelyn, is it? Glenn and Ben's mom?”

“That's right,” she replied, still sounding ready to challenge Tony to a duel. They'd had exactly two conversations in the three months that he had mentored her boys, and the twins had pretty much tied Evelyn to her couch to coordinate those. As sad as her recent prison sentence was, especially for what it meant for the twins, a part of Tony whispered,
Good riddance.

Headed for jail or not, Evelyn wasn't through marking her territory. “I'm these boys' momma,” she said, her tongue sounding a bit heavy. “And you can call me Ms. Hampton, dammit. You ain't my
friend.
”

Sighing, Tony chucked his beer bottles into his kitchen's recycling bin. “Yeah, God forbid I should offend you,
Ms.
Hampton.”

“You tryin' to be smart? You know, I ain't got to consent to letting you spend time with my sons. I'll call Principal Jacobs and get your ass barred from the school.”

Tony laughed long and loud, though he stopped short of mentioning that he was probably days away from sexing the principal. “How about we cease with empty threats,
Ms.
Hampton, and you just tell me what's the matter?” Sarcasm welling up in his throat, he raised his arms overhead. “I've simply offered to help the boys get through this difficult time, this pain of being separated from you.”

“They are disrespecting me, damn you,” Evelyn replied, the words popping out forcefully but with a measured strength. Tony sensed, as he had during their other brief meeting, that Evelyn Hampton had the raw material to be at a completely different level of society, save for a few wrong turns through the years. “Now, look, I may have let my kids down, especially this latest
time, but I've never laid a hand on 'em in anger. They got me ready to break that pledge.”

Smiling at her candor, Tony began stroking his beard. “Why don't you put one of them on the phone, Evelyn? I mean,
Ms.
Hampton.”

“Just so you know, I don't appreciate having to do this shit,” she replied, the words dripping out tersely. “They had the nerve to say they wouldn't obey me unless
you
said they should. Like you already their foster father.”

“Ma'am,” Tony said, “if the twins have told you that I've ever suggested they disrespect you, then they misunderstood me.”

“Whatever,” she said, huffing. “Here's one now.”

Tony caught Ben's voice immediately. “Hey, Mr. Gooden.”

“What's going on, man?”

“It's a little complicated, sir,” he replied. The boy cleared his throat. “Would you, uh, mind coming by, as soon as you could?”

Tony checked his watch: not even eight a.m. yet on a Sunday morning, his rare chance to sleep in before a late morning meeting with his realtor, to put together an offer on the house he'd thought he didn't need. It occurred to him that taking on the challenge of foster parenting was going to quickly cramp his style, what little bit of it he had left. His next words escaped with the reluctance of air hissing from a balloon. “Let me get cleaned up, okay?”

A
s Tony drove into the city, his mind was less on the twins than on Audrey. She was away for the weekend, visiting friends from graduate school in Philadelphia, but on Friday he'd courageously left a message on her home voice mail.

“Hey,” he'd said after her machine beeped, “it's me.” They had talked on the phone enough the past few weeks that he knew no further introduction was necessary. Ever since her midair invitation, where she'd made it clear he didn't have to marry her in order to lie down with her, Tony had bounced back and forth like a tennis ball between Venus and Serena. He'd never been so indecisive.

He'd definitely moved the line separating him from Audrey. Technically platonic, they were undeniably sliding toward some form of intimacy. Hands had been held, lips had touched, brushed, and bonded, but the line hadn't faded completely. Four times in three weeks she'd had him at the foot of her bed, and each time she'd beckoned him forward, her hands drawn out in coaxing fashion.

Serena, of course, still hung in the air; as a result he'd been too torn to take that last familiar step with Audrey, the same one he'd taken with dozens of women of all races, nationalities, and
zip codes. As half-dressed as she was—not to mention his zipper being distressed by a nearly painful bulge—he'd pulled away each time. By the third time, this past Thursday night, Audrey had simply sunk to the bed, pulled back her covers, and climbed in as he gathered his things and slipped off.

“Look,” he said to her machine while biting his lower lip. “You were right. I have to stop holding back. Not just with you, but in life itself. I mean, I guess I'm realizing that with grudges, and with some relationships, you just have to let 'em go. Okay, I'm rambling, so just call me when you get home Sunday night. I need to see you before I go home for Christmas.”

 

He'd definitely had warmer greetings. “You better handle your business, Mr. Mentor.” Evelyn's dark stare pinned Tony where he stood, just outside the threshold of her tiny walk-up apartment. “If you'd taken another minute getting here, a set of twin heads was about to get bashed up, real good.”

“Now, we can't have that,” Tony replied, shrugging nonchalantly. His years working at the elbow of the mayor had schooled him in the art of conflict management, and the first rule was that the more emotional the other person got, the cooler you had to be. Anything else just fanned the flames. He extended a respectful hand, which he would have otherwise used to cover his nose from the pungent, greasy odor in the hallway. “You mind if I come in?”

Swinging around, Evelyn trudged down her narrow hallway with Tony in obedient pursuit. Still ignoring him, she slapped her hands to her hips as they stepped onto the brown linoleum tile lining her cramped kitchen floor. “He's here, you ingrates. Let's deal with this mess—now!”

Engaged in animated conversation, the twins sat at a low, square wooden table shoved into a corner. Both were sprawled across their seats with the lazy posture of teens, but Tony noticed that they not only stopped talking upon seeing him, but each sat up a bit.

Glenn spoke first, his mouth in a mischievous grin. “Mr. Gooden, what's up?”

His eyes smiling, Tony frowned. “What's up? How about
I'm
up, instead of enjoying a lazy morning's sleep, thanks to you.” Stepping forward, he popped fists with Glenn and shook hands with Ben. Standing over the table, he glanced from one brother to the other. “Not to mention I've still got my Christmas shopping to finish, so I don't have all day. Who's going to explain why I'm here?”

“I'll tell you the deal,” Evelyn said, stepping up to the table, hands still cemented to her hips. “I come home this morning to find some hoochie-ass whore sleeping in my bed, and it was clear she did more than sleep on my bed with one of these two last night.” She waved a finger between her sons as if Tony didn't know who they were. “So I tell the little tramp to clean up after herself and never trespass on my property again.” She flicked a long finger toward Glenn. “That's when this one laid a hand on me,” she continued, her eyes growing into enraged saucers of disbelief.

Glenn snorted and threw his hands into the air. “Ben, you were there. You were there. Did I harm Ma at all, huh? Did I?”

Ben, who was clearly more anxious than his twin, fiddled with his hands and spoke into his chest. “You just eased her out of the bedroom, before she could do any more damage.” He looked up at Tony, his eyes asking for help. “I mean, Ma basically slugged homegirl.”

Tony pulled out the third kitchen table chair and offered it to Evelyn. When she flashed him a look of disgust, he flipped it backward and plopped down onto the crooked, prickly wooden seat. “This true, Ms. Hampton?”

“I was defending myself,” Evelyn replied, stomping a foot as her neck muscles bulged. “That was between me and the little whore. Glenn had no business puttin' his hands on me.”

Tony had heard enough about Evelyn's antics that the next question fell easily from his lips. “When you came at this girl, were you sober?”

Tapping a foot rapidly, she responded to Tony but kept her gaze firmly over his head. “I'm their momma, they ain't got no right to judge my sobriety or anything else. This is my house.”

“It ain't nothing but your apartment,” Glenn said, nearly under his breath. “You pay rent, Ma. It ain't nobody's property but the landlord's.” Though he stayed slumped in his seat, he actually flinched when Evelyn feinted toward him with a raised fist.

“See what I deal with?” She asked Tony as she backed away from the table.

As Tony tried to fashion a response, Ben cleared his throat. “Ma, why don't you tell Mr. Gooden what's really up with you? Why you're really mad.”

Evelyn retreated farther from them, until she was leaning against her off-white, dust-caked refrigerator. Her arms crossed, she looked heavenward. “It's a separate issue, Gooden, but it's like this. I don't want you trying to raise my boys. We don't hardly know you, it ain't right.”

“Evelyn, we both know your aunt can't take on the responsibility.” Tony kept his tone respectful but raised his voice. “I've talked with her myself, and she's submitted a statement to Children's Services, too. For God's sake, the woman is in and out of the hospital as it is.”

“So?” Evelyn hunched her shoulders, frowning. “These boys good as grown, big enough to take care of themselves anyway. If anything, they'll help her.”

Tony looked at the boys, ran a hand through his hair. “Evelyn, it's probably best if we continue this conversation woman to man.”

“Whatever,” she said, crossing her arms. “Once you all get that little tramp out of my house, then we can talk about something else.”

Tony did a double take before staring the twins down with a furrowed brow. “This girl's still here?” He'd pulled plenty of mess in his day with babes from Martin Luther King High School, but Tony had never let a girl be caught in the act by his parents. This poor girl had not only been harassed by Evelyn, she was still cowering back in that bedroom? “Whoever brought her over here better make sure she's dressed. Evelyn, you and I should drive her home.”

Standing now, Glenn smacked one fist into the opposite palm. “Uh, Mr. G, she's not gonna be comfortable riding with Ma.”

“Oh, really?” Evelyn's grin was wide and wicked. “She was comfortable letting you break her back out, but too good to ride—”

Tony sensed Glenn's anger and shot an arm out just in time, holding the youngster in place as he glared at his mother. “Evelyn,” Tony said, “you don't know exactly what this girl did with either of your sons. Let's all get ahold of ourselves.” Wincing at the pain in his left leg, he put a hand on Glenn's shoulder. “When we take this young lady home, guys, it'll look better if your mother's with me than if you or Ben are. Trust me.”

Ben hopped from his seat. “Mr. Gooden, I'll stay here with Ma. You two go get Glenn's girl out of there.”

Glenn's girl.
It took a second to realize why, but Ben's simple words chilled the pit of Tony's stomach, and he desperately wanted to stay right where he was. Life had been so crazy lately, he'd managed to momentarily forget who Glenn's main girl was.

When he turned and saw the football star enter the kitchen with the girl at his side, he knew it would be young Dawn Kincaid. Hair matted, clothing rumpled, a black scar below her right eye, she was nowhere near as frazzled as a girl with good judgment should be. Gum popping, mouth wide with a smile, she looked Tony dead in the eye. “What's up, Mr. G?”