Tappin' On Thirty (2 page)
Authors: Candice Dow
As if I'd lifted my foot from her chest, she sighed and together we said, “Rule number two: If you think you've lost your cool, refer back to rule number one.”
She bumped her side against mine. “All right chica, all eyes are on you.”
I kidded. “Lights, cameras, action.”
2
TAYLOR
W
hen we pulled up to the Newton White Mansion, cars laced every inch of the parking lot. Courtney had the 5 Series sparkling. I felt like a diamond, even though I didn't have one propped on my finger. Courtney opted to remove her ring. I was tempted to rent a ring so I wouldn't have to endure the sympathetic expressions that I get when people find out that I'm still single.
hen we pulled up to the Newton White Mansion, cars laced every inch of the parking lot. Courtney had the 5 Series sparkling. I felt like a diamond, even though I didn't have one propped on my finger. Courtney opted to remove her ring. I was tempted to rent a ring so I wouldn't have to endure the sympathetic expressions that I get when people find out that I'm still single.
As we waited in line for the car to be parked, we were trying to recognize people going inside. Courtney pointed. “Ooh girl, that's Yolanda.” She winced and added, “Damn. She's huge.”
I laughed. “Ooh, look at her. She was in the honors program with us. What's her name?”
Courtney laughed. “I don't know, but she's big too.”
We amused ourselves as we pointed out all the people that had fallen off. Somehow a part of me needed to know that others failed in areas that I hadn't.
A muscular white guy, wearing a yellow T-shirt labeled VALET finally found his way to our car. He opened Courtney's door. When I put my hand on the handle, my heart sank. I took a deep breath and stepped out.
As we trudged onto our virtual red carpet, we heard others making similar observations. “Is that Taylor? That's Courtney. They look the same. Do they still hang together?” As my eyes searched for Scooter, the photographer practically shoved us up to the background and snapped the flash.
Scooter's old football teammates guarded the entrance like bouncers. I hoped their quarterback stood in the midst of their huddle. I quickly gravitated toward them. We hugged the guys. Courtney gave unemotional hugs. I gave anticipatory hugs, hoping the next arms to circumvent me would be those of Scooter Evans. As I wrapped my arms around the final guy, I peeped behind him and there was no Scooter. My eyes wandered in circles as the guys shouted flattering praises to us.
“Damn, y'all still fine.”
“Y'all still the smartest, finest chicks I know.”
“Look at the paid-ass attorneys.”
“How y'all still in shape? Everyone else has blown up!”
We walked into the foyer of the mansion and stood in an endless line to get name tags. My eyes scoped every inch of the room. When I glanced up the stairs in the middle of the foyer, he stepped down. Scooter. My heart thumped, and my nerves began to percolate. His black slacks fell neatly on the top of his shoes. I tugged Courtney's arm. With my teeth clenched together, I mumbled, “Oh my God, Courtney. Do you see who I see?”
She nodded nonchalantly. Her expression said, “I told you so.”
I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes, saying, “You make me sick.”
She didn't acknowledge my hysteria. My insides were flipped upside down. As if it would help, she mumbled, “Rule number one.”
Before she could finish, I gasped. The last thing I could think about were a couple of childish rules.
My heart sank deeper as he neared the bottom of the stairway. My head drooped lower and lower. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.
Finally, I lifted my head. His looks startled me. The cute boy was now a handsome man. His tall slim body had transformed into lean bulk. I gasped for air and quickly dropped my head again. I took a deep breath, inhaling a dose of courage. Then, I raised my head. Finally I was ready to face the love of my life. I looked left. I looked right. Scooter was gone.
Courtney shook her head as if she was already disappointed in my actions. I huffed anxiously, hoping the line would hurry. Before I began biting my nails, I stepped out of line. Heck, whomever I wanted to see should know my damn name. Courtney called out for me, as I stormed away.
When I rushed into the dining area, he stood there. I inhaled his presence. Detecting me in his peripheral vision, he turned and smiled. I smiled nervously. He smirked. His facial expression intimidated me. As the space between us disappeared, so did my words.
I stood face-to-face with the only man I have loved in my twenty-eight years on this earth. He grabbed me and hugged me tightly. Momentarily the embrace settled the volcano erupting inside of me. He pulled back, held both of my arms out. He smiled and shook his head as if to grant his approval.
“Taylor, Taylor, Taylor . . .”
Still lost for words, I followed his lead. “Scooter, Scooter, Scooter . . .”
“Tay-Bae.”
“Scootie-Boo.”
We burst into laughter as we reminisced on our teenage pet names. He complimented me, “Girl, I'm not surprised that you are still fine as hell.”
Hoping he was flirting, I blushed. He quickly jumped into superficial conversation.
“How's the Bishop?”
“He's still the same.”
“Your mom? Your sisters?”
“Everyone's good. Toni got married like six years ago. She has two kids.” I smirked, acknowledging that we all knew that she'd get married early. “And Turi is in Atlanta.”
“We used to have fun in Zion Temple.”
Not wanting to remember all the sins I committed in my daddy's church, I smirked. “Shut up!”
Trying to lead on that there has been no one of significance since our breakup, I said, “You know my daddy still asks about you . . .”
He nodded. “Bishop was my man.”
Hoping to keep him in a reminiscent mood, I added, “Yeah, he was definitely grooming you for the ministry.”
He smiled proudly. “I ain't mad. He wanted his girls to be with God-fearing men.”
“I know. He's funny. You know Toni's husband is a minister.”
“What?”
“And Turi's getting her Masters in Divinity at Emory and she's dating a guy in the program.” I shrugged my shoulders. “So, chances are.”
He smiled as if he were proud of my youngest sister's accomplishments. “Yeah, I was watching your dad's broadcast and he mentioned that Turi was going to Divinity School.”
“You still watch daddy's sermons?”
“Whenever I can catch it, I definitely watch. He always has an inspirational word.”
I smirked. “You're right. Whenever I can catch it, I watch it too.”
We both laughed. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Taylor, you don't go to your father's church anymore?”
I wrinkled my nose. “On holidays.”
“That's a shame. I'm not surprised though. You've always been the rebel,” he said, laughing.
Directing conversation away from the imperfect girl with the perfect family, I asked, “So, how are your parents?”
“They're good.”
I paused, waiting for him to say they asked about me too, but he didn't. He nodded. I nodded. We exchanged smiles. Neither of us said a word. The thoughts of his parents rewound us back to our last encounter.
When I'd returned to school that fall after the breakup, I quickly learned that bad boys are called that for a reason. By December, I wanted the big crybaby back. I sent letters to no avail. Out of desperation, I showed up at his family's home on Christmas Eve. His parents hosted an annual party, and I was certain they'd all be glad to see me.
I rang the doorbell and his Aunt Cynthia was the first to greet me. She stuttered, “Hello, Taylor. How are you?”
Her words were cold, but I didn't think much of it. I invited myself in. Everyone in the room paused. Even the kids stopped running around. I waved. “Merry Christmas, family!”
The realization that I was no longer a member of the family was immediately obvious when only a few people mumbled a response to my greeting. They looked at me as if I were an intruder. Scooter gave me a blank stare and walked into the kitchen. My eyes followed him, but the bodyguards sitting around the living room told me my feet better not bother.
His mom sat propped on the edge of the couch, staring at me like I was a mistress who crashed her party. Her wrinkled fingers grasped tightly on a small goblet. She swirled her drink. Her dark lips turned upside down. Feeling the need to make a U-turn, I crossed one foot over the other. She cleared her throat, “Taylor, what are you doing here?” she asked.
Six months prior I referred to this woman as Mommy. Now, she was glaring at me like I was a traitor. Suddenly, I questioned my own presence and began to back up. She stood. Her war stance affirmed that I was standing on enemy ground. My back leaned against the foggy glass door. Mrs. Evans forged toward me. I stumbled out of the door and she came out with me.
In a disgusted tone, she said, “Taylor, you don't belong here.”
“Iâ”
“My son did not deserve to be treated like that.”
I flinched as she got closer.
“Your parents raised you better than to have no remorse for people's feelings.”
I stuttered, “I'm sorry. I . . .”
She pointed her finger. “When my baby went back to school, he couldn't even concentrate. He wasn't eating. He wasn't sleeping. Depressed over your fast ass.” Sprinkles of spit smacked me in the face. “When I saw his midterm grades, this became personal.”
She stepped closer to me and my eyes bugged out of my head. Her arm sprang up and I quickly ducked. When I didn't feel the effect of the blow, I peeped up to find her posed as if she were pledging to God not to kill me. Seconds passed and the ready-to-fight rumble barked in my belly. Finally, she pumped the palm of her hand into the air and blew out some frustration before she continued. “I ain't paying twenty-five thousand dollars a year for some floozy to break his heart and make him flunk out of school. I told him to stay as far away from you as possible.”
I began to cry. “Mrs. Evans, I didn't mean it. Iâ”
“You don't deserve my son's friendship. He has been a loyal friend to you and you just stomped all over his poor little heart. You are evil.”
Scooter never came out of the house to rescue me. She stormed back in, leaving me out in the cold. That was the last time I'd seen Scooter, and that encounter has haunted me ever since.
He interrupted my daze, “Yeah, they ask about you from time to time.”
I wanted to jump up and down, hoping his mother didn't still think I was some evil witch. “Really?”
“Yeah, they always talk about how much I used to love Taylor Jabowski.”
I took that opportunity to segue into my plan of action, “I loved you, too.”
“Not as much as I loved you.”
I laughed, saying, “What do you mean? I did love you.”
“Man, you played me.”
“I didn't play you.”
He laughed and gave me an I'll-catch-you-later hug. “Yes, you did, but you made me the man that I am, and I still love you for it.”
Just like that, he walked away. He didn't give me a chance to spill my heart and ask him if he'd be willing to consider an intimate relationship. It was late in the third-quarter in the game of love and happiness. Thirty was coming fast and Scooter was one of the few good men standing. My bottom lip drooped as I watched the game clock time out.
Courtney walked up behind me, “Girl, shake it off. You look stunned.”
Didn't I deserve more? Or were the five years from freshmen year of high school through freshmen year of college just that insignificant?
Courtney grabbed my lifeless hand, “Let's go to the bar and get a drink.”
“Okay.”
As we walked, Courtney whispered through clenched teeth, “Taylor, you have to chill. You look like you don't even want to be here. We look too good for this.”
I rolled my eyes. “Courtney, whatever.”
The smell of old books distracted me momentarily as we wandered past a library. After playing bumper cars with our bodies to squeeze through a narrow passage, we arrived at the open bar. I sighed. Every second or so, Courtney would look up at me and chuckle. Finally a cocoa-colored bartender greeted me.
“What do you need gorgeous?”
Courtney chimed in, “Advice.”
I smiled thinly and checked his name tag. “Magnus. I do not need advice.”
She put her hand on her hip. “Magnus, yes she does.”
Others hovered over our shoulders and shouted their desires. “Two Coronas.” “Remy.” “Patrón.”
I huffed. “No, I don't.”
She giggled, “Don't get all feisty with me. You know you need advice.”
As we had our mini-spat, Magnus served others and ignored our call for help. I needed something strong to counter the effects of rejection.
“Magnus, I need Grey Goose and lime juice. More goose and less juice.”
We all laughed at my corny line. Courtney pushed her body into mine, trying to apologize for upsetting me. I pouted a little and added, “Hit her off with the same.” I smirked. “Maybe then she won't be able to pay attention to what I'm doing.”
Other books
The Port-Wine Stain by Norman Lock
Happy Families by Carlos Fuentes
The Mountain Can Wait by Sarah Leipciger
Mission: Earth "Villainy Victorious" by Ron L. Hubbard
IGMS Issue 29 by IGMS
If You’re Reading This, It’s Too Late by Pseudonymous Bosch
Flat-Out Celeste by Jessica Park
No Choice but Surrender by Meagan McKinney
Giri by Marc Olden
Da Silva's Mistress by Tina Duncan
