All Up In My Business (21 page)

Tonight she missed him. For probably only the second or third time in the past five years, Victoria admitted that she missed Malcolm. That wasn’t always the case, or at least it’s not what she often allowed herself to think or believe. But for the past three weeks, since she’d been put on partial bed rest and hadn’t been able to attend the near nightly church services that kept her mind off her marriage and on the Lord, Victoria had begun to long for what she’d never truly had—a healthy relationship with her husband … and herself.

Malcolm sat and sipped his cognac, feeling relaxed as he looked around the near-empty restaurant. He’d talked to Candace, and while his mother sounded slightly better than his father had, he could still hear the tears in her voice. To hear Candace Livingston in a weak moment was rare but was made somewhat better by talking to his aunt Diane, who said Ace had gotten Adam to agree to see Candace that weekend.

And then there was the state of his own marriage. After a week of trying to do the right thing and warm up to both his wife and her pregnancy, the situation had quickly fizzled back into a state where each spouse simply tolerated the other. For the past two weeks, only the Livingston men’s track record of remaining married had kept Malcolm from filing divorce papers. Now, as he watched Joyce’s sexy approach—tailored black suit, black pumps, and a bright smile—he wondered if even the legacy was enough.

40

B
obby rubbed his hands together nervously, looking in the mirror for the umpteenth time since he’d left the dentist’s office two days ago. He still couldn’t get used to the reflection in the mirror. What a difference a few facials, a haircut, and a set of even white teeth made.
Damn! Who knew?
It had been a week of transformations since his chance encounter with Zoe at the mall, and he’d taken his first vacation in eighteen months. After talking with Zoe, he’d gone home and spent the next two hours online, looking up dental offices specializing in cosmetic surgery and dermatologists who treated adult acne. During his family visit in New Orleans, he’d gone on a makeover journey and felt he’d been handled “from the rooter to the tooter.” He’d been so excited about it that he’d called Zoe as soon as he got back; then they’d met so she could be one of the first to see the results of her pep talk.

As soon as he saw his girl’s familiar red Maxima pull into the parking lot, Bobby reached for the bag on the seat next to him. In addition to the purchases he’d made at the mall the night he saw Zoe, he had several items from New Orleans, including an official Saints’ Super Bowl T-shirt.
I can’t wait to see her in this and nothing else
, he’d thought when purchasing one for himself, one for Chardonnay, and two more for the kids.
He hoped that she would see him tonight. Bobby wasn’t one for tapping strange slits on short notice. He hadn’t seen Chardonnay in a week, hadn’t had sex in three. He missed her, but tonight he needed her too.

Chardonnay frowned when she noticed Bobby’s car in the restaurant parking lot and saw a shadowed face inside the car; then she saw his car door open.
Damn! He’s back
. Chardonnay wouldn’t tell anyone, even Zoe, that for as much as she dogged Bobby, she’d kinda missed him while he was gone. She’d been disappointed when he’d canceled on her the previous Friday, and after finding out Q was also busy, she had gone out, bought a bottle of her daughter’s namesake, brought home the T.I.-looking tenderoni who’d sold her a dime bag, and proceeded to screw the boy senseless her entire two days off.

“Hey, Char,” Bobby said through her rolled-up window.

Chardonnay huffed before rolling down the window. “What the f—” she began as she turned her head. But what she saw left her momentarily speechless.
Whoa. He did clean up pretty good. Just like Zoe said
. For a moment, she entertained the thought that he was a good man and that he might make a good baby daddy, but the moment was short-lived. Char was known for dating pretty boys; it didn’t matter if they were drug dealers, ex-gangbangers, jobless, or thugs—just as long as they could screw and were fine. Bobby could hit her spot, but at the end of the day, he was a cook. Gangsters got respect; diamond-sporting dealers received mad street love. And Q owned his own business. How could she hold her head up in the hood on the arm of a man who fried food for a living?

“It’s about time you got that grill straight,” she finally said. “And your skin looks better. But don’t stand there grinning like the cat who stole the canary. You still ain’t all that.”

The comment wiped the smile off Bobby’s face and caused the hand holding the bag to go limp. The bag plopped on the ground beside him. “Why you have to cut a brothah, Chardonnay?
I walked over here to give you something. For you and the kids.”

“Well, why are standing there flapping your yip-yap, then?” Chardonnay asked through a cloud of cigarette smoke. She took in Bobby’s hurt expression. “Louisiana must agree with you, all right? You look … different.” Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Okay, better. But check this out, I gotta be inside in ten minutes. It’s not my birthday, so what’s with the gifts?” Chardonnay kept up her tough-girl act, but inside she was moved that Bobby had thought of her while on vacation.
Maybe Zoe’s right. Maybe this man does deserve a chance
.

Bobby’s mood was subdued as he walked around to the passenger door and got in Chardonnay’s car. He hadn’t expected her to turn a flip, but he hadn’t expected her to dis him either. A part of him thought about keeping the heart necklace, maybe even give it to Zoe, since her heartfelt suggestion had been the impetus for a transformation that made him feel good.
But I bought it for this girl, here. Maybe it will make a difference…
. He turned puppy-dog eyes at Chardonnay and handed over the smaller bag. “These are for Yak and Ray-Ray.”

Chardonnay took the contents out of the bag and held up the first one.

“What the hell?”

Bobby’s crooked smile returned as he reached into the larger bag he still held. “I got us one, too, baby. Figured we could all wear them to Stone Mountain.”

“And get beat down? Yo ass ain’t in N’awlins,” she drawled. “You’re in Atlanta, man. Cardinal country, ya heard?”

“Yeah, but y’all got love …”

“Humph, I don’t know about that. But I like the idea of us going to Stone Mountain. You might have to buy us something else to wear there and save these tees for when you take us to New Orleans.”

“Really? You’d come home with me? Meet my family?”
Bobby’s mood lightened considerably at thoughts of he and Chardonnay making a real go of things.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Chardonnay said, reaching for the other bag. She looked up in time to see Shyla’s shiny Lexus pull into the employee lot. “Oh, hell no. Look who’s decided to go slumming and park back here with the regular folk.”

Bobby looked up and saw Shyla Martin pull her car into a parking space two cars down. He knew there was no love lost between her and Chardonnay, but he didn’t have anything against her. “I like that ride.”

“F that tramp and the horse she rode in on. Ooh, Bobby, these for my kids?” Chardonnay smiled at the remote-control car and Dora the Explorer doll, both of which she knew her children would love. “Oh shit,” she exclaimed, looking at her watch. “I’m going to be late.” Chardonnay hurriedly opened her door. “Get out!”

“But you haven’t seen what else I got for you!” Bobby said, scurrying out the door so that Chardonnay could lock up her car.

“I’ll see it later,” Chardonnay said, taking her time crossing the parking lot so that she could finish her cigarette.

Bobby didn’t miss the gist of Chardonnay’s words—that she’d see him later that night. Knowing that, he felt okay to end the convo for now and get to work. He didn’t even take it personally that, while she didn’t have any more time to talk to him, she had a couple minutes to hang out with Newport before clocking in. As he reached the back entrance to the restaurant, Shyla and a man Bobby didn’t recognize approached the door. “Ms. Martin,” he said, stepping forward to open the door.

Shyla turned for a quick thank-you, but then took in his new and improved appearance and stopped in her tracks. “Bobby! What happened? You look great!”

Bobby’s grin was immediate.

“Ah, just a little sumpin-sumpin. I guess this is what a vacation after eighteen months will do.”

“Well, you look quite nice. Your clothing is impeccable.” Shyla turned and noted Chardonnay approaching, taking a last drag off the cigarette before flicking it behind her. “Some employees could learn a lesson or two from you,” she said, loud enough for Chardonnay to hear her. Then she turned and flounced inside.

Yeah, I got your lesson, wench
, Chardonnay thought as she stepped inside and began her shift. She made a point to trade tables with Jermaine, just so she wouldn’t have to breathe Shyla’s air. But Chardonnay took note of Shyla’s flirty demeanor and wondered just how things were between her and Toussaint.
I wonder how cute you’d think you were without Toussaint for a sex mate or without Taste for a job
. Chardonnay stopped, as this last thought that popped into her mind took her by surprise. What she wouldn’t give to somehow make Shyla lose the job that gave her status and the right to look down her nose at everybody else. An image of Shyla, down-and-out, sans weave, designer clothes, or luxury vehicle danced in Chardonnay’s head.
That sistah needs to be brought down a peg or two. And I might be just the sistah to do it
.

41

A
dam tensed as the front door opened. He relaxed a bit when he heard Malcolm laugh at something Toussaint said.
Just my sons
… Then he heard her voice.
And my cheating wife
. It had been two weeks to the day since Adam had put Candace out of their home. He’d thought he was ready to see her, yet in this moment realized there was no getting prepared for this conversation. There had never been a family meeting like this.

Malcolm was the first person to enter the den. He noted that it looked much as it had when he’d visited earlier in the week: papers strewn around, a couple more tumblers added to those already sitting on various tabletops.
Where’s the housekeeper? Did he make this room off-limits while he drowned his misery?
Malcolm thought these things in the seconds it took him to walk over to where Adam stood, looking out the window. “Hey, Dad.”

“Malcolm.” There were footsteps. Adam turned and stared at the den entrance.

Toussaint came around the corner, carrying a coffee tray. “In case someone wants coffee, or gets hungry,” he said by way of greeting. He set down the tray that included mini-bagels, cream cheese, and thin slices of prosciutto, then walked over
and hugged his father. “It’s gonna be all right, Dad” he whispered.

One minute went by, and then another. Malcolm walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. “You want one, Dad?”

Adam nodded. Malcolm looked at Toussaint, who declined. Instead, Toussaint poured himself a cup of coffee and began munching on a croissant.

“Where is she?” Adam asked when another minute had gone by. Now that his sons, brother, and sister-in-law had talked him into seeing his wife, Adam wanted to get started.
The sooner we talk about this mess, the sooner … the sooner what?
Adam didn’t have an answer to that question, and suddenly wasn’t in such a hurry to see his wife.

“Let me see where she is.” Without waiting for an answer, Toussaint went in search of his mother. He didn’t have to go far. She was in the kitchen, staring out the window. “Mama,” Toussaint said, his voice soft, comforting. “Let’s do this. The sooner you come in, the sooner we can put this family back together.”

“But what if your father doesn’t want that—can’t accept that?” Candace asked, her wide eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m so ashamed. That he would only talk to me with y’all here is just … A mother shouldn’t have to do this in front of her children.”

“We’re big boys,” Toussaint said. “And we’re here for both of you. We’re not here to find out what happened. We don’t need or want to know what went on. That’s business that you and Daddy can discuss after we’re gone. Malcolm and I just want to see y’all stay together. That’s the only reason we’re here.” Toussaint walked over and hugged his mother. As she clung to him, he recalled an incident years ago, when the tables were turned. He’d been twelve at the time and had experienced his first heartbreak when Trina “Juicy” Willis dropped him for the neighbor with the high-top fade. “Hang in there,
baby. You’ll feel better,” is what his mother had told him. And now this is what Toussaint told his mom as they walked back into the den.

“I’m sorry.” These are the first words Candace uttered as she turned the corner and saw Adam and Malcolm, looking like the older and younger version of the same man, sitting on the couch. Even their posture was alike: both men with their right leg resting on their left knee, with a tumbler of cognac in their left hand. “Adam, there are no words to tell you how sorry I am that this happened,” she said, walking farther into the room and perching herself on the wingback chair across from the love seat where Adam and Malcolm sat. “I know forgiving me won’t be easy….”

Adam stared hard at his wife. Through his anger, he noted the dark circles under her eyes, her skin’s sallow appearance, and the tightness around her mouth. He hadn’t been the only one suffering. “Are you sorry it happened, or sorry you got caught?”

“Both,” Candace quickly replied. “But sorrier that it happened.” She looked between Malcolm and Toussaint. “When I think of what I’ve done to this family, I’m just sick about it.”

“What were you thinking?” Malcolm blurted out. “I know it’s not my business, but …”

“It is your business, son,” Adam interjected. “It’s all of our business. Because what affects one Livingston affects us all, and it affects the business. That’s why we can’t be selfish, caught up in just thinking about ourselves and our own fleeting pleasures.” These words were clearly meant for Candace even though he spoke to Malcolm. Only now did he turn to Candace. “And it’s a good question too. And one I want to know. What in the hell were you thinking?”