Almost Doesn't Count Page 7

  “I hope you don’t think I’m stalking you,” he continued. “But I was wondering . . . I know you’re busy, but I scored an invite to an art event at Touchstone Gallery and I was wondering. . . Well, you mentioned that you liked art.”

  “I love art,” she said, biting her tongue the second she spoke.

  Was he about to ask her out? He was definitely about to ask her out. She wasn’t really that interested. It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t interested, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t know how to date anymore.

  “It’s Wednesday night,” he continued. “Sounds interesting. Some modern art exhibit thing. I thought we could do dinner first.”

  As she was trying to quickly come up with a kind way to let him down, there was a knock on the door. She looked up to see Amira. Amira was Richard’s ridiculously beautiful, Italian girlfriend. She was an investment banker with long, black hair and olive-colored skin. She had piercing green eyes and was at least five-ten. She made Billie feel like a hobbit every time she stopped by.

  Billie watched as she sauntered into the room to an eagerly awaiting Richard. As she watched him embrace her and kiss her passionately on the lips, Billie felt jealous. Not because she wanted Richard for herself, but because she wanted to feel that again. The joy on his face at the sight of her, the anticipation his entire body exuded as she approached. It had been so long.

  “Actually,” she said, returning her attention to the phone. “An art exhibit sounds like a great idea. I need a break from work.”

  Erica was home for only a few seconds before she started hearing the noises. They were coming from Nate’s room down the hall. He was slamming things around, throwing something, and as she got closer to the room, screaming out swear words.

  Erica sighed as she stood outside his bedroom door. She was reluctant to go in. She’d had a rough day at work and her body was screaming for her to sink into a hot bath and eat some ice cream. Nate’s moodiness was getting worse. It was as if he was being a teenager all over again. She’d already dealt with that, raising him on her own all those years.

  Erica had to admit there was a part of her that wished Nate would move out. She had tried to keep him close for so long to make sure he didn’t go the same way so many young black men in DC went. She made sure he went to work and stayed away from thugs, and tried her best to instill in him the values their mother had been teaching them when she was alive. Terrell wasn’t so happy that he was part of the package when he and Erica moved in together, but he grew to care about Nate, and Erica had thought he’d be a good example for him.

  But Terrell had been urging Erica to cut the cord with Nate and let him go out on his own. He was all the family she’d had left so she was reluctant to do so. When she’d gotten engaged, she thought finally this might be the time for her and Terrell to be alone and begin their future together. Then all hell broke loose and she needed Nate around just to remember where she belonged. Besides, without Terrell around to pay half the rent, she needed Nate’s income to help her handle the bills.

  But lately, Nate was bringing down the whole house, and Erica really wasn’t in the mood for it. She was happy again for the first time in a while. Making love to Terrell earlier that week filled her with hope that they had a future. Except for the odd lunch invite, Jonah hadn’t been bothering her much lately. She’d been having mostly peaceful days until Nate came home and spread his attitude all over the apartment.

  She knocked on the door. “What is your problem, boy?”

  “Fuck off, Erica!” he yelled back.

  “Oh, hell no.” Erica grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  Nate, who had been pacing back and forth in his room, stopped and turned to her. His anger was evident on his face. He was a good-looking twenty-year-old with nut brown skin and thick black eyebrows that framed his handsome young face. He had a large nose and full lips and was sporting a short afro after a few years of going bald.

  “I didn’t tell you you could come in!”

  “Do I look like I give a shit?”

  She stepped inside, noticing the mess his room was. There was no way to tell if he had been tearing it apart. It pretty much always looked as if a bomb had recently gone off.

  “It’s my room,” he shouted. “No one respects my fucking space. I’m sick of this shit . . . all this shit!”

  “What shit are you talking about?”

  He walked over to his window and looked out even though all he could see was part of an alley and the brick building right next to them. “Just go away.”

  “What is it, Nate?” Erica could tell something more than just a bad day was at play. The way he slumped his shoulders as he looked out the window. He was really defeated. “Tell me what happened and I’ll leave you alone.”

  Nate kept his back to her. “I don’t need to hear any more shit from you, Erica. You’re not my mother.”

  “You better be glad I’m not,” she said. “Because if you talked to your mother that way, you would be in for an ass whupping.”

  “I’m twenty years old!”

  “No expiration date on a deserved ass whupping.” She walked over to his bed and sat down. “Come on, Nate. What is it? You fight with Kelly again?”

  “Fuck Kelly!” He slammed his fist against the wall so hard it made a small crack.

  “There goes the security deposit,” Erica said. “I hope you know you’re fixing that, and what’s up with this rage? Why do you have to be so violent?”

  “I don’t talk to that bitch no more.” He leaned his head against the window, looking more like a sad puppy than a man. “I told you not to mention her name again.”

  Erica found that comical. Kelly had been Nate’s girlfriend for almost a year now, but they had been having problems for the last month. She finally broke it off with him two weeks ago and Nate was trying his best to act as if he was fine, but he wasn’t. When his boys were around, he acted as if he could barely remember her name, but when it was just him and Erica, he talked about her nonstop and acted lovesick.

  “So you got into a fight with her again.”

  Nate turned to his sister. “She called me! This bitch calls—”

  “Stop it,” Erica said as she held her hand up. “You know how I feel about you calling her a bitch.”

  “Even if it applies?” he asked. “She called me about some shit she heard about me talking to some girl at the club.”

  “That’s none of her business,” Erica said. “But why are you talking to some girl if you just broke up—”

  “I’m not!” He placed his hand against his chest as if to accentuate his earnestness. “I wasn’t talking to nobody, but even if I was, like you said, it’s none of her damn business.”

  “So what is this about, then?”

  He shook his head. “We got into it on the phone and I kind of lost my temper. So some motherfucker comes up to me and is all like, you need to be quiet in the hospital and—”

  “Nate, you got into a shouting match over the phone at work?”

  He looked at her as if she hadn’t been listening at all. “That’s where I was when she called me.”

  “You know how frustrated you get when you talk to her. You should have made her hold on until you found—”

  “I really don’t need a lecture from you, Erica!”

  “Fine.” She placed her hands on her lap and looked up at him without another word.

  “So, I get into it with this asshole,” he continued, noticing Erica rolling her eyes. “I know it was stupid, Erica. I don’t need your attitude, too.”

  “So, what happened?”

  Nate shrugged and shuffled slowly over to the bed, where he sat next to his sister. He was looking down at his hands. “I had no way of knowing this, but . . . seriously, this dude was wearing jeans and a Lakers’ T-shirt.”

  “Oh, no.” Erica knew what was coming.

  “Turns out he was a member of the hospital boa
rd.” Nate slowly looked up at his sister with an embarrassed look on his face. “I got fired, Erica. They fired me.”

  “Holy shit,” was all Erica could say even though she thought she probably should have said something more comforting. “Did you apologize?”

  He made a dismissive gesture with his hands. “I ain’t apologizing to that asshole. Fuck him. They never even gave me a chance. He was all, you’re done here, you’re done here. I told him to fuck off and went back to my job. Ten minutes later, I get called to the human resources office and escorted out of the fucking building.”

  Erica’s first thought was of their mother, Achelle. She had worked at Sibley Hospital since she was twenty. They loved her so much there and tried to help her when she was sick. Erica later found out it was where she’d met Jonah Dolan as well. It was because of their mother that the hospital was happy to offer Nate a job as a maintenance worker there. He’d been there for three years. In the beginning, he hadn’t appreciated the opportunity and was late showing up to work and slacked off a bit. Because of their mother, he had been forgiven and eventually he got his act together.

  “You have to go back,” she urged. “You have to go back and beg. You have to get on your hands and knees and—”

  “I ain’t doing that!” He shot up from the bed. “I ain’t beggin’ for nothing!”

  “Just tell them you’re under a lot of pressure,” she continued as he began pacing the room again. “Remind them of Mom. They still have a soft spot for her there.”

  “Not these people,” he said. “The administration has been all changed out. The old people are gone. All the people in charge are new within the last couple of years. They don’t give a shit about Mom or me.”

  Erica wasn’t sure what to do. “You need that job. We need that job.”

  “Fuck them and Kelly. It’s her damn fault.”

  “Okay, then what do you plan to do?” Erica asked.

  “I don’t give a shit!” Nate grabbed his keys off his dresser and went to the door.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, standing up.

  He opened the door and, without looking back, shouted, “Anywhere!”

  She went after him, calling his name a few times, but he stormed out and never looked back. Erica was left standing in the living room, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what to do. The only thing she could think of was to call Terrell and that was what she did.

  “What is it, baby?” he asked, sounding excited to hear her voice.

  “It’s a fucking mess,” she said.

  “Speak to me, girl. I can fix it for you.”

  His words were soothing and allowed Erica to calm down long enough to tell him what had happened. Terrell did what he always used to do. He agreed with her and used sympathizing and comforting words. She knew what he was doing and it was exactly what she needed. It was why she used to love just letting out all her frustrations and anger with him. He always knew how to respond. He never told her what to do or made judgments, and he always offered to help fix whatever was wrong.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Terrell said, after listening to everything. “I’ll tell him to try and get his job back. I promise, Erica, if I can coach him on the right way to go about this and keep his attitude in check, he’ll get that job back.”

  “Terrell,” she said, “I don’t want this family’s legacy at that hospital to end like this. My mother would be so disappointed.”

  “I’ll take care of it, baby,” he promised. “I will get Nate his job back and figure out how to set him straight. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said as she felt her entire body sigh in relief.

  In between Foggy Bottom and Georgetown was a DC neighborhood called West End. It was known mostly for its hotels, but there were also a few restaurants in the area. Blue Duck Tavern was one of those restaurants and one the nicest restaurants in DC. It had been a while since Sherise had been there, but she had an appointment at an area nail salon and thought it would be a good place to have lunch as well.

  Sitting among movers and shakers in the area, she immediately felt right at home outside in the café area enjoying the summer day, eating her mango chicken salad. She shared little pieces of mango with Cady, who was sitting in a high chair between her and LaKeisha.

  Sherise’s adrenaline was high. Since her telephone conversation with LaKeisha on Sunday, she had done some research on Jerry Northman in her spare time. He was onto something. He had a real chance of being the next president of the United States, and he was suddenly amassing a group of some of the best minds in campaigning. She had wanted to discuss it with Justin, but decided against it. If he was against it, it would just kill her mood, and besides, he was going to be out of town until Thursday, so she told herself she would just talk to LaKeisha one more time before discussing it with him. He didn’t need to know anything yet.

  But she was in trouble now, because after only forty-five minutes with LaKeisha telling her stories of the excitement she worked within every day, Sherise was salivating. She wouldn’t let LaKeisha know, of course, but she wanted to do this. This was new ground. She had volunteered on some campaigns over the years, but she had never been in such an integral leadership role, and if Northman won, what could that mean for her?

  “I can’t wait until you meet Jerry,” LaKeisha said, biting into her tomato salad. “He’s wonderful to work for. He’s not idealistic, which makes him so real, but he is inspiring.”

  Sherise tried to act as nonchalant as she could about this. “Well, if I do decide to look into this further, I probably should meet with him. I know you said he trusts you, but . . .”

  “Jennifer!” LaKeisha yelled as she raised her finger in the air.

  Sherise noticed that a few people stared at her, including Cady, who was a little perplexed.

  “That was her name,” LaKeisha said. “The woman who mentioned that you were a homemaker now. I couldn’t think of her first name, and for some reason it was getting to me. I’m sure it’s Jennifer now. Jennifer . . .”

  “Well, I’m not really a homemaker,” Sherise said. “I was just taking some time off to focus on other things. I’m not the homemaker type.”

  LaKeisha seemed happy with this. “That’s why I know you’ll take this opportunity.”

  “Jennifer who again?” Sherise asked. She wanted to know who was going around telling people she was some sad old housewife.

  “Ross,” LaKeisha said, frowning. “I think it was Ross. I can’t remember exactly.”

  “Da-da!” Cady suddenly yelled as she threw her hands in the air. “Da-da!”

  Sherise turned to her baby and smiled, but her mind was on Jennifer Ross. Who was this woman? She would have to do some asking around.

  “Da-da!” Cady repeated.

  “Daddy is out of town, baby,” Sherise said as she reached for a napkin to wipe Cady’s face with.

  Just out of curiosity, she turned toward the street where Cady had been pointing. The street they were on had two hotels right across from each other and was busy and hectic, so there was no way to know what she was talking about, but just before she was about to turn back to Cady, something caught Sherise’s eye. The cab screeching to a halt caught her attention and in the second she looked at it, she could have sworn Justin was the man who had gotten inside. She squinted, as if that would help her see better, but the way the light was glaring at her, she could not see into the car through the windows.

  The car sped away as quickly as it had shown up.

  “What is it?” LaKeisha asked, seeming to notice the look of curiosity on Sherise’s face.

  “Nothing.” Sherise turned back to Cady and tried to wipe her face with the napkin, but Cady was pushing her hands away. “She saw that man across the street get in the cab and he looked like Justin.”

  “You said Justin was in Philadelphia, right?”

  Sherise nodded. “I dropped him off at Reagan National Airport myself. It did look like him a little bit, but she’s done th
at before. One time when we were in Neiman Marcus, she reached out and tried to grab a man who, from behind, looked a little like Justin. She screamed out ‘Da-da.’ You should have seen the look on her face when he turned around.”

  Sherise laughed along with LaKeisha, but as she finally gave in and stopped trying to wipe Cady’s face, there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to tell her she had seen Justin. That was crazy. She had taken him to the airport herself. Why would he be back so early? Was he trying to surprise her?

  No, she said to herself. It wasn’t him. Even if Justin was back, he wouldn’t be in this area. He worked and lunched around K Street and Capitol Hill. Justin was in Philadelphia and she was being silly. She dismissed it from her mind and went back to discussing a possible meeting with Jerry Northman.

  Billie was trying to look at this evening from a positive standpoint. She wasn’t at home eating a frozen dinner for one. She was eating with company, a free dinner at Estadio, a place she had wanted to eat at for a long time. She got to wear her nice new Alfani dress, which flattered her petite figure. Not to mention her date, Robert, was nice to look at.

  Seeing him a second time, Billie was happy she agreed to have dinner and attend an art show with him. He was more attractive than she remembered. They agreed to meet instead of the formal pick-up, allowing them both to work as late as they could and change quickly before heading out to dinner. They had in common demanding jobs that required ridiculous hours.

  When Billie arrived, more than a few heads turned her way, but Robert’s wasn’t one of them. As the hostess guided her to their table where he was seated, waiting, he was focused on his phone, typing a message furiously. When he realized she was there, he quickly placed his phone down and got up from the table. He looked pleased, but so was she. He looked very nice in an expensive charcoal gray suit and blue shirt. Seeing him in the light, his strong, traditionally handsome features were more defined and his sharp jaw line and piercing dark eyes appealed to Billie.

  They got off to a quick good start, but within ten minutes of the date, Billie realized how the evening was going to go. It was all business. Robert, a financial consultant with one of the largest wealth management firms in the country, was constantly on his phone. It would vibrate for a phone call and make a ping sound when there was a text or e-mail. And they never stopped coming.