39/Renee
After Alicia caught her daddy at my house, Kenny slowed our relationship way down.
He wasn't stopping by every day anymore. He wasn't calling as much. And he definitely wasn't finding a hundred different reasons to show up at my door.
I would be lying if I said my feelings weren't hurt. Because to me, that meant he was scared of losing Reese. And if he was scared of losing Reese, then maybe she meant a lot more to him than he'd been letting on. That realization sat in my chest like a rock.
I was still so pissed at Quinton over the whole thing that we barely spoke. Every time I looked at him, I thought about Alicia standing in my doorway with that smug little grin on her face.
I'm sure Quinton couldn't wait to leave for college in the fall. Hell, at this point, neither could I.
One morning I sat in my office calculating monthly expenses while secretly hoping Kenny would stop by with breakfast. A biscuit. A sausage egg sandwich. Hell, I'd have settled for a stale doughnut. Something. Anything. The man hadn't brought me breakfast all week.
Now I know that sounds ridiculous, but when a man gets you used to something and then suddenly stops doing it, your mind starts wandering.
Maybe he's busy.
Maybe he's having second thoughts.
That last one kept trying to sneak into my head. I wasn't going to lie and fake the funk. That shit hurt. I had put myself out there emotionally, and anybody who knows me knows that's not something I do. I don't go around handing pieces of my heart out like samples at Costco.
Most men don't even make it past the front gate. But somehow Kenny had gotten through. And now I was sitting at my desk wondering if I'd been stupid enough to let him in for nothing.
My cell phone rang. I snatched it up so fast you'd have thought Kenny's name was flashing across the screen.
"Mama!" Tamara shrieked.
I immediately lowered my expectations. “Yes?”
"I was sleeping so good, and guess who knocked on the door at eight o'clock this morning?"
I frowned. "Who?"
"That lady."
“Who?”
"The bag lady?"
Dammit. Not again. I thought she would've gotten the hint by now. "What did she want?"
Of course, Tamara launched into a full production.
"Mama, I opened the door and she was standing there and she said, 'Forgive me. I know I've worn out my welcome.'"
"What did she want?" I interrupted. If I waited on Tamara to tell a story her way, she'd start with the Emancipation Proclamation and eventually work her way around to the point.
"She asked for sanitary napkins."
I blinked. "Sanitary napkins?"
Then I lost it. "Hell nah!"
"Mama, it isn't funny."
But it kind of was.
I tried to stop laughing. I really did. "Did you give her some?"
"No. I got mad and slammed the door."
Now I felt bad.
"Tamara, if a woman is asking strangers for sanitary napkins, she must really need them."
Because Lord knows I didn't even want to think about what her backup plan might be.
My daughter groaned. "I know, Mama. But she woke me up."
"Well, if she comes back, go ahead and give her a box."
I heard the reluctance in her voice. "Okay."
After we hung up, I sat there staring at my phone.
Poor woman.
Life had to be rough if sanitary napkins were on your wish list. Then again, times were hard all over. Especially when you preferred the kind with wings. Those things cost damn near as much as groceries nowadays.
By the time I locked up the office and headed out to my car, Tamara called back.
"Mama, my conscience was bothering me. I walked around the block and gave her a box. She said, 'Bless you, child.'"
I smiled. That's my baby. Tamara always did have a soft heart.
"I hope you didn't give her the pads with the wings." Hell, I paid almost fifteen dollars a box for those things.
Tamara sighed. "No. I gave her those generic ones in the back of the closet."
"Good."
I nodded approvingly as I unlocked my car and figured I deserved some points with Jesus for that one.
I climbed into my car and headed toward Office Depot. Somewhere between the parking lot and the first stoplight, I noticed I had a missed call.
Calvin.
Lord.
The message sounded like somebody had stolen his puppy and repossessed his car on the same day. By the time I pulled into Office Depot, I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
I headed inside and made a beeline for the copy paper while dialing his number.
"University Police, may I help you?"
"Sergeant Cambridge, please."
"Who's calling?" the woman asked in a tone that suggested she took her job entirely too seriously.
I looked around the empty aisle and decided to entertain myself.
"His boo, that's who."
There was a long pause.
Then she mumbled something under her breath. I swear I think she called me crazy.
A few seconds later she put me on hold.
When Calvin finally answered, he sounded anxious as hell.
"Hello?"
I immediately burst out laughing. His secretary had definitely told him his boo was on the phone. "Calvin, it's me. Renee."
That only made me laugh harder. I heard him release a long-suffering sigh. I didn't even have to see his face to know he was annoyed.
"You need to quit playing. That's what got me in this mess in the first place."
Now that made me laugh even harder. Because he wasn't entirely wrong. "I'm sorry," I said between chuckles. Then I forced myself to get serious. "No, really. I'm sorry. What's up?" I grabbed a box of copy paper and headed toward the register.
"I was wondering if you've spoken to Danielle."
There was so much hope in his voice that I almost hated what was coming next.
"I had flowers delivered to her job the other day, but she didn't even bother to call and thank me."
Lord.
The man sounded desperate. And desperation looked good on absolutely nobody.
No wonder Danielle wasn't interested in taking him back.
"I talked to her." I hesitated. "But she's seeing someone else."
Silence.
Not just regular silence. The kind of silence where somebody's heart is quietly cracking on the other end of the phone.
I felt a little bad.
A little.
"Do you think it's serious?" he finally asked.
Now that was a loaded question.
As far as Danielle was concerned, yes. As far as I was concerned… absolutely not. From everything I'd seen and heard, Chance was a walking headache waiting to happen. The problem was Danielle couldn't see it.
Yet.
"No," I said. "Not at all. I think it's just her way of coping with what happened between y'all." The lie slid right out of my mouth.
I hated doing it. But the truth would've crushed him. And honestly, the truth wasn't much better.
"I appreciate you trying." His voice sounded tired. Defeated. Like he was slowly running out of hope.
"I'll keep trying," I promised.
And I meant it.
Partly because Calvin was my friend. Partly because Danielle was my friend. And mostly because I still felt responsible for helping create this whole mess in the first place. " I'm going to do whatever I can to get the two of you back together."
"Thanks." Calvin said it quietly like he wanted to believe me.
After we hung up, I stood in line staring at my phone before I swallowed every ounce of pride I had left and called Kenny.
Straight to voicemail. I stared at the screen.
Disappointed.
Again.
Girl, just forget about him.
He's about to get married anyway.
The voice of reason was really getting on my nerves lately. Because forgetting Kenny sounded simple in theory.
In reality, it felt impossible.
Somewhere along the way, that man had managed to sneak past all my defenses and carve out a spot in my heart. And I wasn't entirely sure I was ever going to get it back.
That realization stung.
I made it home and headed straight to my office. It was time to sit down and pay some bills. I picked up the stack of mail, thumbed through a few bank statements, and noticed a letter from my bank. That was never a good sign.
My stomach tightened as I tore it open.
"Got dammit!"
I nearly threw the paper across the room when I saw that Landon's check had been returned for insufficient funds.
Stupid me had dropped my small claims case the same afternoon I'd deposited that check. Because for one brief moment I had actually believed that lying bastard was trying to do the right thing. Apparently I had lost my mind. Now I was going to have to start the entire process over again.
I snatched up the phone and called his stupid ass. Straight to voicemail. Of course.
I cussed out his voicemail, checking account, credit score, and everybody responsible for raising him, then ended the call.
I was definitely having a bad day. A very bad day. Actually, come to think of it, the entire week had sucked.
Kenny was acting funny. My son had accidentally blown up my relationship. A homeless woman was borrowing feminine products from my household. And now Landon had bounced the check to replace my pissy-ass mattress.
Jesus must've been testing me. That was the only explanation.
I left my office and headed upstairs to my room.
Nothing burns off frustration like kickboxing.
Or murder.
And since prison wasn't part of my future plans, kickboxing would have to do.
I changed into my workout clothes, laced up my sneakers, and turned on the exercise video.
I was just getting ready to start when my cell phone rang. I rushed toward it, hoping it was Kenny.
"Hello?"
"Bitch! Quit calling my man!"
What the...
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen. Private Number.
"Who is this?"
"You heard what I said."
Click. The line went dead.
For a second I just stood there staring at the phone.
Then I immediately hit redial.
Blocked.
"Dammit!"
My mind started racing. Who the hell would call me?
I wasn't messing around with anybody except Kenny. Which meant it had to be Reese. Who else would it be?
I stabbed the keys and called Kenny. This time he answered.
"Yeah?" he asked in a sleepy voice.
Apparently somebody was getting naps while my blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels.
"Uh, your woman just called me."
"What?"
He sounded awake now.
"I saaaid, your woman just called my phone."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Bitch, quit calling my man.'"
Silence.
Then—
"How do you know it was Reese?"
I almost dropped the phone. "Who the hell else would be calling me?"
"I don't know. Maybe one of your other niggas' women."
I sucked my teeth so loud the neighbors probably heard it.
Men.
The bullshit never ended.
"Whatever. It was Reese. She had to get my number from your phone."
"I don't know how she would do that. I always hide my phone when I'm home."
"Then she got it from your phone bill. Whatever. Just tell that bitch not to call me again."
I hung up before he could say anything else. Because now I was mad at him too. How does he know she didn't call me? I don't know who else it could be. Kenny was the only man I was fucking. Besides, the woman sounded exactly like somebody whose fiancé was cheating.
Let me catch her in public. Because it's on.
I stayed pissed off the rest of the evening.
Around nine o'clock, I left to pick Tamara up from her part-time job.
I pulled up in front of Walmart and, thank goodness, her behind was already standing at the curb.
I hate waiting. Nothing irritates me more than watching somebody stroll out of a building while I'm burning gas.
I climbed into the passenger seat. Tamara immediately frowned,
"Mom, I don't feel like driving today. My stomach hurts." She stuck out her bottom lip.
"Girl, too bad. I'm sick of picking you up all the time. You need to learn how to drive whether you feel like it or not."
She pouted all the way around to the driver's side.
"And straighten your face. You're too old to be acting like that."
I knew I was taking my bad mood out on her. I just couldn't seem to help myself. I buckled my seat belt and waited for her to do the same.
A few minutes later she pulled smoothly into traffic. I settled back in my seat. Tamara was actually doing a really good job.
"I think you'll be ready to take your test next week."
Her eyes grew wide. "You really think so?"
"Yep. You'll never know unless you try."
The smile that spread across her face made me feel a little guilty for snapping at her earlier.
As soon as the light turned green, she eased back into traffic. "Mama, I was at work today and a woman came through my lane buying a bunch of fake flowers."
I nodded. "Uh-huh."
"She said she was making an arrangement for her friend who's getting married next month in Boonville."
My stomach tightened.
Then Tamara smiled.
"So, I told her your boyfriend lives in Boonville and he’s getting married next month too."
My head snapped in her direction. "Girl!"
She jumped. "What?"
"Don't be announcing in public that I have a boyfriend who’s getting married."
Her face scrunched up. "I didn't say his name."
"It doesn't matter."
Lord.
Sometimes I think my daughter needs a seat on that short yellow bus. Doesn’t she know what messing around with someone else’s man means? Damn!
"Kenny has a fiancée. For all you know that woman could've been related to her."
Tamara looked horrified.
"I didn't think about that."
"Clearly." I stared out the window. "That's because you were too busy running your mouth."
A few seconds passed before she spoke again.
"Why are you messing with Alicia's daddy if he's getting married?"
I whipped my head around so fast I almost got whiplash.
"Why are you conducting interviews while you're driving?"
She frowned.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
"Mama—"
"Eyes on the road."
She sighed.
I sighed.
Then I pointed at the windshield.
"See that? That's where your attention needs to be."
That finally shut her up.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
No texting.
No phone calls.
Nothing but me sitting there making sure Tamara got us home in one piece.
When we got home, I checked my messages. There were two. The first was a telemarketer. The second made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
"You stupid bitch! Didn't I tell you to stay away from my man!"
Click.
I stared at the phone.
Now this shit was really starting to piss me off.
Because one call was a coincidence.
Two calls felt personal.