“Shut up,” Erica said. “He made a mistake. He realizes that he could have ruined lives.”
“My life!” Sherise yelled.
“Hey.” Billie held up a hand to Sherise. “You calm down. You put yourself in a position to have your life ruined, so stop looking for scapegoats.”
“Exactly,” Erica chimed in.
“But you.” Billie turned to her. “What Terrell did was awful. Do you really think you can trust him?”
Erica wanted to say yes, completely, but she couldn’t. “I’m not exactly there yet, but I’m getting there. He’s trying so hard.”
“They all try,” Billie said.
“I love him,” Erica admitted hopelessly.
Billie’s concerned frown softened into a smile. “I know you do, sweetheart.”
“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Sherise asked, not trying to hide her disgust. “He put his little dick on you and you believe anything he says.”
“You’re the only one who seems to have a problem falling for the wrong dick,” Erica said with a haughty roll of her head. “And his . . . is not little.”
Billie could see this was getting out of hand. “Let’s try to focus, girls. Erica, no one would blame you if you were . . . you know . . . dickmatized. It happens to the best of us.”
“I’m not,” Erica said. “We haven’t even had sex yet. We’ve only been on a few dates and maybe kissed once or twice. Who are you to judge me, Sherise?”
“I admit my mistakes,” Sherise lied, “but that doesn’t change the fact that this is a mistake, your mistake. You had gotten rid of the trash, just to turn around and bring it back in. He’ll find a way to fuck everything up again. It’s what brothas like him do.
The waiter returned with three shots of Patrón.
“Well,” Erica said, “if you keep your panties on and stop fucking the wrong people, you won’t have anything to worry about from this brotha.”
“Damn,” the waiter added.
All three ladies looked up at him. He composed himself and walked away.
“You aren’t fooling anyone,” Sherise said. “You keep trying to bring up my mistakes to deflect from what you know is your own.”
This incensed Erica for some reason. She wanted to jump out of the chair and slap Sherise. “Just work on your own marriage and don’t worry about my relationship with Terrell. I know what—”
Erica halted as a man approached their table. He was tall, dark, and handsome in a very traditional way. He was a professional, dressed in a navy blue suit and a white button-down shirt. He looked to be in his thirties, with a close, neat cut. He clearly had a goal in mind, and that goal was Billie. He didn’t have eyes for anyone else.
“Sorry to interrupt.” His voice was compelling and deep. “My name is Robert. You are?”
“Billie,” she answered cautiously.
“Hi, Billie.” He flashed a million-watt smile. “I noticed you sitting over here and I was wondering if you would be interested in dancing with me.”
Sherise made a smacking sound with her lips. What kind of man asked a woman to dance this early in the club these days? “We were actually in the middle of a—”
“Sure.” Billie got up from her seat quickly, tossing her purse on Erica’s lap. She looked at her. “I’m taking your advice.”
The truth was, she didn’t want to be at that table anymore. When Sherise and Erica got into it, it was like a world war all over again, and she was always caught in the middle. She was tired of trying to be the peacemaker. They could work this one out themselves. She was gonna dance.
When she reached the dance floor, which was more crowded than she expected for so early on a Friday night, Billie tried as best she could to let loose. She wasn’t particularly interested in Robert, but he was cute and seemed harmless. Besides, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Porter standing by the bar looking at her with unabashed jealousy. Icing on the cake.
It was only ten at night when Sherise slipped back into her Georgetown townhouse. Climbing the stairs, she knew that Justin would still be up. He would likely be working, but she wasn’t really thinking about him. Instead of heading to the master bedroom at the far right of house, she went straight for the door in the middle of the hallway.
Quietly opening the door, she tiptoed over to Cady’s crib. She looked down at her baby sleeping peacefully and a sense of calm and warmth crept through her. She reached down and ran her finger softly along Cady’s cheek. She wanted to kiss that teeny little sweet mouth, but wouldn’t dare wake her up. The little demon looked like an angel when she was sleeping.
Sherise felt so blessed to be able to look at the reason she was alive, the reason her life was worth anything. There it was, sleeping in Winnie the Pooh jammies. Without her career, Cady seemed to be the only thing that Sherise really understood and knew was real. She smiled, in her heart knowing that she was lucky. How many women would be deliriously happy to be stay-at-home moms with a husband earning six figures and a healthy beautiful baby?
So why wasn’t she? Was it because she couldn’t get pregnant again? She had wanted to wait at least a couple of years between babies, so she could focus on her career before taking another maternity leave. But being so jarred by the horrible mistake she’d made with Jonah made Sherise think differently. Making Justin happy was what mattered. Keeping her family together was what mattered. Having another baby, bringing another person into their wonderful family, had been her goal.
Now that goal was sort of becoming a nightmare. Every month when she got her period, she felt like a failure. Every month she realized she wasn’t pregnant, she felt closer to Justin finding out that Cady wasn’t his. What if she wasn’t? Looking down at her now, Sherise believed she saw Justin’s nose on the baby, but was she just convincing herself of that in order to believe she was his?
“How drunk are you?” Justin asked as soon as she entered the bedroom.
He was looking up at her from his side of the bed, his laptop on his lap as he leaned against two big pillows.
She smiled at him as she tossed her shoes to the side of the spacious room.
“Just enough,” she answered as she walked over to the bed. She leaned into him and he lifted his head up to kiss her.
He seemed happy and looked at her with affection for a few seconds more before returning his attention to his computer. Sherise looked down at him adoringly and reached out. She placed her delicate fingers under his chin, lifting his face to hers again.
“We should all go to Eastern Market in the morning,” she said. “Remember how we used to love that Saturday mornings? Buy some fruit, eat some pancakes, and look at the art. It would be nice . . .”
“I can’t, sweetie.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm before letting it go. “I have a nine A.M. tee time at the club. I told you I was playing golf with some clients.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
Not a word was spoken as she went to the bathroom and changed into her nightgown. She didn’t wash her face, but splashed it with water and put her hair in a ponytail. She still wanted to look nice. She wanted to make love to her husband tonight.
When she slid into the bed, Justin’s attention was on his computer. He was reading an article on the financial industry, his specialty, as Sherise slid up to him and began rubbing his arm.
He looked at her and laughed. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not.” She smiled. “Okay, maybe a little, but you should be happy. You get to take advantage of a drunken woman. When was the last time you did that?”
“When was the last time you were drunk?” He let her kiss him before returning to his article. “I need to finish reading this, baby. This is what everyone is gonna be talking about at tomorrow’s golf game.”
She reached over and placed her hand on top of the laptop and slowly pushed it closed. “They can all talk about this article while you talk about how you fucked your gorgeous wife.”
He
seemed annoyed, but let her push the laptop off his lap and onto the bed. It was comforting to Sherise to see that he didn’t resist her. In the past, Justin could never resist her. No matter how awful she’d been or how preoccupied he was, he was always willing and eager to make love to her. That hadn’t been the case so much recently. Their inability to conceive was affecting him just like it was her. She was going to change that tonight.
Her lips teased at his as she reached down and grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt. He lifted his arms as she pulled the shirt up and off him. He met her with a more passionate, deeper kiss as his hand went to her shoulders.
Their tongues began to explore each other’s mouth as she felt his fingers gently lift the straps of her nightgown and slide them down her shoulders. He let out a soft groan as his mouth traveled down her neck to the soft flesh of her chest.
Sherise let him guide her back to where she was lying on the bed and he was moving on top of her. His mouth was kissing the space between her breasts as his hands began to caress her hips. Her hands went to his head as she ran her fingers over his hair.
Sherise was waiting for the passion to come, but it hadn’t arrived yet. She felt a little spark, a little pull in her center, but she wasn’t set on fire. She closed her eyes and spread her legs as Justin positioned himself in between them.
When his tongue traced her nipple, it felt warm to Sherise, but when she felt his teeth teasingly bite at her, she flinched. She usually liked a little biting, but this didn’t feel good. It made it only glaringly obvious to her that none of this felt good. Or maybe it just didn’t feel right.
“Justin. Justin,” she repeated. “Please.”
She pushed against the bed, lifting herself up.
Caught up in the foreplay, Justin looked up, expecting to continue.
“Wait,” Sherise said as she pushed away.
Justin looked at her confused. “What? What did I . . . Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she answered, shaking her head. What was happening to her? “I just . . . I . . . I’m sorry, Justin.”
“What?”
“I . . .” She shrugged as he realized from her expression that she was telling him she didn’t want to go any further.
“What is wrong with you, Sherise?” he asked angrily as he sat up.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I think it’s the alcohol.”
“Alcohol makes you not want to have sex?” Justin reached for his T-shirt and began putting it back on. “You expect me to believe you’re the only person on the planet that happens to? This isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed, reaching out to him. He leaned away. She felt awful. She regretted pushing away. She should have just gone through with it even if it wasn’t what she really wanted. “I just feel sluggish. I can make it up to you in the morning.”
Justin didn’t respond as he got out of bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I know you’re mad, Justin, but shit, I’m sorry. Maybe in the morning, we can . . .”
“Don’t do me any favors,” Justin said as he snatched his laptop. Without looking at her, he turned and left the room. “I’m gonna be downstairs. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Come on,” she called after him. “It’s not that serious.”
“You started it, Sherise!” He slammed the bedroom door behind him.
Now she really regretted not following through. What was wrong with her? She had resolved to make love to Justin before leaving Cady’s room just moments earlier. She wanted him, but it just fizzled. She wasn’t feeling it from herself. Or was she not feeling it from him? It couldn’t be him. He was upset that they weren’t making love.
“What is wrong with you, girl?” she asked herself as she reached over to Justin’s side and turned off the lamp. She was in need of some serious groove therapy.
3
Billie wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she hadn’t been expecting what she got. As she entered one of the smaller conference rooms in her law firm offices where her new pro bono client was waiting for her, she stopped at the door. Standing at the other end of the room, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room overlooking Farragut Square, was Ricky Williams.
He turned to her and started walking toward her. He was a very good-looking, milk chocolate–colored man with a clean-cut, clean-shaven look. He had piercing black eyes, a strong nose, and rigid jaw. His short dark hair was cut close to his head and he looked a few inches over six feet. He was sharply dressed in casual khakis and a blue and white striped button-down neatly tucked inside.
“You must be Billie Carter,” he said in a deep voice.
Billie quickly pulled herself together and met him halfway. She shook his hand as firmly as she could. He had a strong grip. “Yes, I am. And you must be Ricky Williams.”
“Well,” he said. “You’re . . . I saw your picture on the law firm Web site and, well, it doesn’t do you justice. You’re very pretty.”
“That’s nice,” she said, feeling a little uncomfortable. No, a lot uncomfortable all of the sudden. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“I don’t know if you’re going to feel that way for long,” he joked.
She gestured for him to sit down at the conference table behind him. “Are you telling me that you’re a nightmare client?”
“I’m probably nothing like some of the people you’ve defended.”
She joined him, sitting at the corner of the table, placing her file folders down. She studied him for a second. No, he wasn’t at all what she’d expected. “So you’ve been researching me?”
“I know you used to be a public defender,” he said.
“Well, this isn’t a criminal case,” she said, “so that—”
“Not yet,” he interrupted.
Billie paused, intrigued. “You planning on breaking the law?”
“I feel like it’s already been broken,” he said. “Not by me, but by the government. Just don’t get your hopes up. I’m not.”
“I always get my hopes up,” Billie said. “It’s a personality flaw. I believe in my client. I fight for my client. And I get my hopes up for my client.”
Ricky didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. “I don’t know, Ms. Carter. I think . . .”
“Billie,” she corrected him. “I doubt our ages are that far apart, so no need for formalities. I can call you Ricky?”
“You can call me anything you want,” he said, suddenly flashing a flirtatious smile. “But there is some seriously shady business going on with my case. You can’t fight the man.”
Suddenly Billie heard music and the muffled sounds of singing.
So you got to try a little tenderness . . . a little tenderness . . . a little tenderness . . .
“Sorry,” Ricky said as he reached in his back pocket and pressed a button. “That was my phone.”
“Is that Otis I hear?”
“The one and only,” he said, smiling. “You like Otis Redding?”
“I don’t associate with anyone who doesn’t.”
“He was the man.” He looked impressed. “I’m surprised a young woman like you even knows who he is.”
“My daddy was his biggest fan,” she said. “He used to play his music all the time. I don’t care who you are, when you hear that man sing, you have to fall in love with his voice.”
“That,” he said, pointing into the air. “That is the God’s truth. That man just had soul seeping from every pore. R&B these days . . . these boys just don’t know.”
Billie laughed, nodding in agreement. He looked at her and their eyes met for a moment that made things suddenly awkward. She should be happy that they were getting along since this wasn’t always the case with a client. But something told her this was probably not a good idea and she better get back to business.
Billie looked down at the file folder on the table, flipping it open as she cleared her throat.
“I can tell you that you ar
e wrong on one account,” she said.
“Not about Otis,” he answered back.
She looked back up at him, her head held high. “No, but when you said you can’t fight the man. You can fight him. It’s what I do. It’s what I love to do and I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
His eyes softened as a satisfied expression came over his face. “Well, you have spirit, and I could tell from the second I read up on you that you have the brains. Not too bad to look at, either.”
“Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “First, I want to let you know that I appreciate you coming to our offices on a Saturday. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“I’m busy?” He laughed, looking around. “I walked up in here expecting half the lights to be off and see nothing but a janitor. I must have passed at least twenty people on my way to this room. This is how you guys roll here?”
“Gotta make those hours,” Billie said. “This place is pretty much poppin’ on Saturday and Sunday.”
“That’s wrong,” he said. “I mean don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re here to help me, but a beautiful sister like you should be out running the streets with her man or her girls on a nice summer Saturday.”
Billie agreed, but she had given up a lot of her personal life when she started working at the firm, but there was no point in going into that now.
“Let’s get down to business,” she said. “I’m gonna tell you what I know of your case and you fill in any blanks.”
“Shoot,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“You started working at the shelter, Saturn House, ten years ago.” She was looking directly at her notes. “You house immigrants who have acquired asylum from prosecution in their countries in transition. They stay with you an average of two months before moving on their own or to relatives in other parts of the DC area or the country.”
“We take entire families,” he said, proudly. “We can house up to thirty people at a time.”
She admired the pride he took in what he was doing.
“I’ve looked into your past, Ricky.”
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