The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil (20 page)

So, this is where I ended up after I left home. At first I had some hors d’oeuvres and too many iced teas. But the more I sat, the more I thought. It was all of that thinking that made me decide, today and in this place, I’d have my first martini—a peppermint one to start.

After I ordered my second drink, I called Brooklyn, because I knew she’d eat and drink with me and I’d be able to keep this table. She called Tamica and they joined me for Happy Hour—though there wasn’t much to be happy about, since I told my friends my whole story.

“Wow!” Brooklyn said again. “I just cannot believe you’re going to do it.”

Tamica and I both stared at Brooklyn with wide eyes.

“You’re the one who told her to do it,” Tamica snapped, saying to Brooklyn exactly what I was thinking.

“Yeah,” I took another sip of my drink. “You said you’d do it all day long.”

“There’s a difference between theory and reality. And anyway, you said you’d
never
do it.”

Another sip before I said, “There’s a difference between theory and reality.” I giggled; it was so funny that her words were appropriate for both of us even though they had opposite meanings. I glanced down into my glass and turned somber. “Our reality is pretty tough right now.”

“I kinda figured that things were getting bad,” Tamica said, “when you stopped calling.”

“She couldn’t call ’cause her cell was off.” Brooklyn sipped her chocolate martini.

Tamica shook her head. “I wish there was something I
could do.” She lifted her hand, motioned to the waiter, and ordered her second peach martini.

“I know something you could do.” I licked the edge of my empty glass. “Order me another one of these.”

Both Tamica and Brooklyn frowned.

“How many of those have you had?” Tamica asked.

I shrugged. “Not too many. Maybe two … or five.”

She shook her head. “Just bring her some water,” she told the waiter.

It was my turn to frown. “What’s up with that?”

“You don’t even drink,” Tamica said.

“Yeah, well, Adam doesn’t sleep with other women.”

Brooklyn and Tamica exchanged a glance, then their faces drooped, their sorrow for me even more apparent.

“So you’re really gonna give your husband away for a weekend with that woman?” Tamica asked.

Hearing the words from someone else’s lips made me cringe. “Sixty percent sure. Naw, why am I lying? I’m ninety-nine percent sure. I mean, I still have to go over the contract with Adam tonight.”

“Dang, y’all getting down like that?” Brooklyn said, sounding a little impressed. “A contract?”

“Yeah, it was my idea.” I left out the part about it being Shay-Shaunté’s idea, too.

“Wow!” my girls said together.

Brooklyn reached over and placed her hand over mine. “You know what? If I was in your place, I would do it, too.”

“Would you make up your mind?” Tamica demanded. “I thought you just said you wouldn’t.”

Brooklyn shook her head. “I didn’t say that. I was just surprised that you”—she turned back to me—“were going through with it, and I said it’s a different thing when you’re talking about the real deal rather than just making jokes.

“But jokes aside and the truth … in your situation … with your problems … if this deal had come to me and Cash … I’d do it.” Then she waved her hand at the waiter and ordered
her
second martini—as if she needed another drink after what she’d just confessed.

Tamica shook her head. “You are so wrong, you know that, right?” she said to Brooklyn.

“What? I’m telling her the truth. You tell her your truth and I’ll tell her mine.”

“You’re her first lady and this is the advice you’re giving her?”

“Please, I’m her friend first. I was giving her the truth as her friend, not as the pastor’s wife.”

“The only truth she needs to hear,” Tamica said as if I wasn’t sitting right there, “is the truth of God’s word.”

“Oh, lawd!” Brooklyn poked out her lips, and I felt another fight coming on.

But before she could say anything, I piped in with, “I have been praying.”

“About this?” Brooklyn and Tamica asked together.

I nodded. “I know God doesn’t want us to be financially ruined.”

“No, but He doesn’t want you doing this either!” Tamica said.

I shrugged. “I don’t know that. He hasn’t told me not to do it.”

“Oh, lawd!” This time, that came from Tamica. “You’re waiting for God to tell you not to do this?”

“Yeah.” I frowned.

Tamica shook her head. “You know, when we were growing up, I thought you were so grounded in God. Especially because of your grandmother. But I guess you don’t really know God at all.”

“Dang, Tamica.” Brooklyn sucked her teeth. “Why you gotta come at her like that? After what she’s going through?” She added, “That’s why you don’t have a man, ’cause you ain’t got no compassion.”

I was kinda feeling the same way as Brooklyn. I always hated when I heard someone judge another person’s relationship with God. As if God had given them permission to do that.

“My relationship with God is just fine,” I said. “You act like you’re on some higher level or something just because you don’t have problems.”

She shook her head strongly. “That’s not what I’m saying. But I am gonna call you out because that’s what—as your sister in Christ—I’m supposed to do.” She rolled her eyes at Brooklyn. “I’m gonna call you out and tell you that praying and asking God whether you should do this or not is a major fail.”

I frowned.

Tamica was on a roll. “Come on, now. That’s like asking God if you should sleep with that guy over there.” She pointed to a blue-suited MBA-looking dude standing at the bar. “Or asking God if you should rob a bank or cheat on your taxes.” She shook her head. “God’s not gonna answer that mess. You already know the answer.”

“So tell me what I’m supposed to do?” I asked, really pissed at how Tamica was coming at me. “We’re in a bad, bad place.”

She leaned forward, then spoke to me as if I was a child. “Those are just circumstances.”

“Just circumstances? Well then, because of my ‘just circumstances,’” I began with total attitude, “can my husband, our three children, and I move in with you? And oh, by the way, his mother is coming, too, because we don’t have any money to continue her care. And then, can you take off from flying for a few years to homeschool my children? And oh, by the way, my ghetto family just might drop by sometimes…”

She held up her hand, knowing that if she didn’t stop me, I was gonna go on and on. “I don’t care how mad you get at me,” she said. “I’m just sayin’ don’t play with God.”

I motioned for the waiter, asked for the check. He handed it to me and I passed it to Tamica. “Since you’re going to be handling my ‘just circumstances,’ you can start by paying my bill.”

Brooklyn cracked up as Tamica’s mouth flew wide open. But she didn’t get a chance to say a doggone thing, because I grabbed my coat and walked away before either of my friends could say a word.

I pressed through the thick crowd, but outside, the cold air was like a knockout punch and I sobered up quick. Well, not totally—because as I made my way over the uneven sidewalk, I staggered a bit.

Dang! There was no way I could drive—not that I was all that drunk, but I wasn’t about to get behind a wheel to find out how drunk I was. And since we only had one car, I couldn’t just take a cab and have Adam come back tomorrow.

I slipped into my car and lowered my head onto the steering wheel. I just wanted to cry.

“God, how am I supposed to get home now?”

I heard a knock on my window, and for a moment, I wondered if it was God. But then, in the window, I saw Tamica’s judgmental face.

I growled.

Tamica waved her hand at me like she was shooing me away. “Go to the other side, I’m driving you home.”

I wanted to tell her no. Wanted to tell her that our long-term friendship had just come to a screeching end. But I crawled over the console while Tamica slid into the driver’s seat.

“I’ll let you take me home,” I said, “but I don’t want to talk to you.”

She shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ but a word. I told you, I don’t
really care about your feelings, since all I was trying to do was save your life.”

“Even though they’re pretty big, I don’t think my problems are gonna kill me.”

“I’m not talking about physical death.”

There was no way I was gonna listen to one of Tamica’s lectures, so I changed the subject. “How you gonna get home?”

“For someone who’s not talking to me, your lips are doing an awful lot of moving.” She peeked at me from the corner of her eye and grinned. “Brooklyn drove. She’s gonna follow us and then take me home.”

I considered jumping out of my own car and going to ride in Brooklyn’s Bentley. That would serve Tamica right—making her drive in the Kia alone.

But I wasn’t that rude.

Still, I didn’t want to talk to her, because she had hurt my feelings. I mean, I wasn’t playing with God, but what else were Adam and I supposed to do? We were on the edge of total disaster after we’d done everything right. God couldn’t possibly want that for us.

There was nothing left to do—except take the deal.

When Tamica finally pulled my car into the driveway, she said, “You know, E, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Looking down at my hands, I told her, “I know.”

Outside the car, Tamica hugged me. “Whatever you and Adam decide, you know I got you, right?”

I nodded.

“And that goes double for me,” Brooklyn said as she came over and wrapped her arms around me. “If I had a million dollars, I’d give it to you. And you wouldn’t even have to give me Adam.” We all laughed. “Hell,” Brooklyn continued, “I’d give you another million if
you’d
take the Bishop. What! For a weekend? Please! That would be like heaven for me.”

I laughed, but I knew what Brooklyn was saying was the truth. She and Tamica would help if they could, but they couldn’t.

As I watched them drive away, I came to accept the sad truth … that no one could help Adam and me … except for Shay-Shaunté.

Chapter 32

I
FELT A LITTLE BAD COMING
in after eight. Not that it was late or anything; there were plenty of times when I worked much later than this. But Adam knew that I hadn’t been at work. I’d left him stranded at home, without any explanation of what was going on or where I’d gone. With his having no way to reach out to me, I knew I owed my husband a big-time apology.

But Adam met me at the door with a hug and a kiss. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry. I needed a little time.”

He stepped back; he was so focused on me that I was sure it was obvious that I’d been drinking. But all he said was, “I understand.”

“Are the kids home?” I asked, moving away from him.

He nodded. “All three present and accounted for.”

I asked, “Are they all upstairs?”

“Yeah; we should talk in our bedroom.” He stepped ahead of me, moving anxiously, as if he couldn’t wait.

Inside the master suite, he perched on the edge of the bed, but there was no way I could sit and tell this news. So I paced the width of our bedroom and told him the story.

“I told her we would do it.”

Adam stayed silent; there was nothing for him to say to that bit of old news.

“She’s happy, of course.” I paused to see if he was happy, too. But Adam gave me nothing more than a straight face and a blank stare.

That was good enough, for now.

I nodded and continued, “There are two things, though.”

“What?” His nerves were in his voice, as if he was afraid that I was going to do something to blow this deal.

I told him about how I’d asked for a contract. “I thought it was a good idea, but then she already had one ready.” Moving to my purse, I pulled out the papers.

Adam glanced over the first page. As his eyes scanned, I wondered if he thought it was as strange as I did that she’d had a contract prepared when we’d given her no signs that we would ever agree to this.

Reading my thoughts, he said, “This doesn’t surprise me. Shay-Shaunté’s a businesswoman.”

“And this is a business deal, right?”

He nodded. “A business deal.”

I guessed if we both kept saying that, one day soon we’d believe it.

I said, “Well, I don’t know much about contracts, it all looked fine to me except”—Adam glanced up when I said that—“she wants me to continue to work for her after …”

I let
after
hang in the air like that on purpose. After. After. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the after.

Oh, God!

“For how long?” Adam interrupted my descent into despair.

“Six months. She said that’s how long it’ll take her to find someone and have me train them.”

Adam studied the last clause, which tied me to this indecent ménage à trois for far longer than the “after” was supposed to be. The way he looked up, then down, then repeated the action made me think that this—those six months—was too much, even for him. This would be the straw that would break the deal.

But Adam broke my hope instead when he said, “Okay.” Then added, “Tell her you’ll stay for six months
or
until you find her a new assistant, whichever comes first.”

I nodded.

Adam gave a little bit of my hope back when he added, “Then we’ll work like crazy to find someone for that job. How hard can it be? In this economy?”

“That’s what I said!”

“We’ll get you out of there, Shine, I promise.”

Okay, well at least Adam got it; at least he understood that it was going to kill me to keep working with the woman he’d … slept with.

“So,” Adam began as he reached for me. Taking my hand, he gently pulled me down onto the bed next to him. “Are you still okay with this?”

“Yeah.” I gave a little shake of my head. “I have to be. I mean, what else can we do?”

He shrugged.

“Trust me, though,” I added, “this is going to be hard. Really hard.”

“I know.”

“I feel like we’re giving up a lot.”

“I know. If we had any other choice, Shine, I’d be right on it. But this is it.”