Seeking Sarah

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  She looked away, ashamed. “I was much more mature, older and wiser, when I met my husband. And I grew into motherhood by being a mother to Alex.”

  “Meanwhile, just screw your real child, right? She couldn’t have used this more mature, older wiser woman who was finally ready to be a mother, right?” My sarcasm was on full throttle.

  She sighed as a light tap came from the other side of the door.

  “Mrs. Ford, is everything all right? Are you coming back to the meeting?”

  “Look, I really need to get back into the meeting,” she said. “Let’s finish this tomorrow. Can you come over tomorrow to my house? Please?”

  I immediately tensed up, but then she said, “Alex is going out of town with Anthony on a fishing trip and it will give us a chance to finish and I can answer anything you want.”

  Part of me was done with my mother. The dreams of mother-daughter bonding were gone. But the part of me that swam in the river of revenge couldn’t quite let this go. That’s why I said, “Fine. I’ll hear you completely out. Just know, I’m not here for your lies.”

  She hugged me, and though I refused to remove my arms from my side, she said, “I will answer any questions you have.”

  I believed her. I just didn’t know at this point what difference it would even make.

  CHAPTER 32

  * * *

  Sarah Ford didn’t know the depths of my pain. But by the time the night was over, she would. When Anthony texted me last night and confirmed that he was going out of town with his son, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to take my mother up on her dinner offer.

  I’d texted Anthony before I left home just to make sure he was indeed out of town with Alex because I didn’t need him popping up. And based on his flirtatious, “Hello, Beautiful,” text this morning, my mother had continued her lie and not come clean.

  I was tired and I wanted to finish that conversation once and for all. That’s why, though I was once again late, I was standing at her front door, summoning up all of my inner strength, waiting on my mother to open it.

  “I didn’t think you were going to show,” my mother said as she opened the front door. She was wearing an apron, a dish towel in her hand. The picture of domestic tranquility.

  “You probably hoped I didn’t show,” I replied.

  She took a deep breath. “You know I really would like for us to get off on the right foot.”

  “I just came to hear you out.”

  She sighed again, then stepped aside to let me in.

  “Sunny,” my mother called out.

  “Yes, Mommy.” She came skipping over to us. “Hey, you’re the lady that was with my brother.”

  “Yes, that’s me.” I smiled. As much as I wanted to feel some type of animosity, I couldn’t. This wasn’t her fault.

  “I forgot your name.”

  “I’m Mona.” I cut my eyes at my mother.

  “Nice to meet you again, Miss Mona. I’m Sunny.”

  “Are you sure you’re not Cloudy?”

  Sunny frowned, then burst into a huge grin. “Ohhhh, I get it. Sunny, cloudy. You’re funny.”

  “So I’ve been told,” I said.

  My mother smiled like she was enjoying the banter between her daughters. “I’m going to go check on dinner and then we’ll talk.”

  I nodded.

  “You can help me color!” Sunny announced as she slid onto the floor in front of the sofa and pulled out a box of crayons and her coloring book and set them on the coffee table.

  “That sounds like a plan,” I said.

  Sunny and I colored for a few minutes before she said, “Why do you like my brother?” Her doe eyes were wide as she looked in my direction.

  The animosity I felt at this child who was living my life raged inside me, but my heart wouldn’t allow me to be mean.

  “Your brother and I are just friends. But he’s a sweet guy. Don’t you think so?”

  “Sometimes. But sometimes . . .” She let her words trail off.

  “Sometimes what?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Mommy said if I can’t say anything nice, I shouldn’t say anything at all.” I couldn’t make out the look on her face. She almost looked scared.

  I cringed as a memory of my mother telling me that as a little girl flashed through my mind.

  “But Alex can be mean,” she said, snapping my attention back to her.

  I relaxed and smiled. “All brothers are mean at one time or another.”

  “My mommy said you’re way too old for him.” She kept drawing; her innocence was so refreshing.

  “I’m not that much older than your brother,” I replied. “But we’re just friends.” I pointed to my picture. “Should her dress be pink or brown?”

  “Pink,” she said. “Princesses don’t wear brown!”

  “Oh.” I exchanged my brown crayon for a pink one.

  The house phone rang and Sunny jumped up to answer it. “Hello . . . Yes, please hold.”

  I couldn’t help but admire how mannerable she was.

  “Mommy, telephone!” she called out.

  My mother entered the room, smiled at me, then took the phone from Sunny.

  “Hi, this is Sarah.” She listened to the person on the other end of the phone, then her smile slowly faded, morphing into shock. “Are you serious?” she said into the phone. “I . . . I don’t know what to say . . . No . . . I understand . . . Okay, thank you for the consideration.”

  “Mommy, what’s wrong?” Sunny said as soon as she hung up. “You look like that was bad news.”

  “It was,” she muttered, still in a daze. “That was the people about my CNN award.” She looked at me like a million thoughts were swirling through her head. “They rescinded my award.”

  Her voice cracked as she stared at me. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen, please?”

  I didn’t reply, just stood to follow her in the kitchen.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Do you know anything about this? The producer said they’d gotten some new information and no longer thought I’d be a good fit. What did you do?”

  I folded my arms. “How do you know I did anything?”

  “You were a conniving little girl and I see nothing has changed.”

  Her words caught me completely off guard. “Are you serious? How dare you?”

  “Why would you do that?” she cried. “I know you told them something. That’s why you came back, right? To ruin my life? That award meant the world to me. You didn’t want anything from me. You just wanted to hurt me!”

  I threw my head back and bucked my eyes in shock. How quickly she had turned. “Just, wow,” I said. “Maybe you lost your award because everyone is running around here like you’re so great. Maybe they need to know the truth.”

  “Is that what you came here for?” she repeated.

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  “What are you doing, Brooke? What is it you want from me?”

  I glared at her.

  “You want me to suffer? You want to ruin my life? Is it money?” she asked, stomping over to her purse and pulling out her wallet. “I don’t have a lot, but I can give you something. Will that make you feel better? Or will you not be happy until you’ve destroyed everything I love?”

  Talk about being insulted. “I don’t need or want your money,” I hissed.

  “Then what do you want?” Her voice was shaking as if she was on the verge of a breakdown.

  “I want you to hurt like you hurt me and my daddy!” I shouted. No, that hadn’t been what I’d come here to say, but since we were taking a stroll down bitter lane, I might as well buckle up and prepare for the ride. “You broke his heart, our heart. Then you just started over.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There will never be enough sorrys to make up for what you’ve done.”

  Her anger was subsiding. Now she was in justification mode. “You have to understand what kind of position I was in.”

>   “I don’t have to understand anything. I don’t care about your sob story.” I headed into the living room. So much for dinner. I didn’t even say goodbye to Sunny as I stomped toward my car. I had all I needed from my mother. Her response just now had told me all I needed to know.

  My mother followed me out. “What are your intentions with Alex?” she asked as I neared my car.

  That caused me to stop just feet from the door. I laughed as I turned toward her. I wanted to tell her that was the least of her concerns. Instead I just said, “That’s why you had me come over here? You’re worried about your son?”

  “I just . . . I don’t want . . . Alex is sensitive. He’s sweet, but you just don’t understand. I don’t want him hurt. And I’m trying to figure out what your intentions are. I mean, are you out to destroy my family?”

  “I don’t give a damn about your family,” I sneered. “If I wanted you destroyed, you’d already be destroyed.”

  “Are you in love with Alex?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh again. “I don’t want Alex. I just wanted to infiltrate your world.”

  “So you used him?”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  “Brooke, you’re playing a dangerous game. I understand you’re mad at me, but don’t involve him. I’m begging you. Don’t do this, Brooke. Alex is fragile,” she said. “Please don’t drag him into our drama.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, we have drama?”

  “What do you want? Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Because I am. Do you want a relationship, because I would love that.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Ju-just not like this. Just give me time to explain to my family.”

  If I didn’t think I could get any angrier at this woman, I was wrong.

  “You are something else!” I screamed at her.

  “Please lower your voice.”

  “Why? Because you’re worried about your precious daughter hearing that you’re a fraud?”

  Sunny must’ve been listening because she stepped out on the front porch. “Mommy, is everything okay?”

  “Okay, obviously, this wasn’t a good idea,” my mother said. “It’s probably a good idea if you leave.”

  Sunny moved next to my mother. “Are you okay, Miss Mona?”

  Her soft words were the only thing that saved me from descending into a full-blown rage. “I’m sorry, Sunny,” I said. “Yeah, I’m very sad. So, yeah, I should leave.” My voice was much calmer now.

  I flashed one last hateful look at my mother, then I got in my car and pulled off.

  This time, however, there were no tears.

  CHAPTER 33

  * * *

  I didn’t have a reason not to do it.

  Trent had driven me to it.

  My mother had driven me to it.

  And right about now, I was going to get satisfaction in the form of revenge.

  When Anthony had told me he had an Urban League reception he had to attend, he didn’t waste any time asking me to come as well.

  Now here I was mingling with a bunch of folks I didn’t know, trying to pretend I didn’t notice Anthony’s lustful gaze.

  It took only a few minutes until he excused himself and made his way over to me.

  “Hello, Meredith,” Anthony said, not bothering to acknowledge the other people I was talking to.

  “Hi there,” I said, excusing myself from the group of irrelevant people I’d been holding court with. “How was D.C.?”

  Anthony broke out into a wide smile. “It was great. Just took a fishing-slash-business trip with some friends. Got some big things in the works. Glad you came.”

  “Glad you invited me.”

  We made small talk, but I could tell he wasn’t interested in anything I was talking about.

  “So, aren’t you ready to get out of here?” he asked, leaning in and whispering in my ear.

  “And do what?” I asked, my tone inviting.

  “We could, umm, we could go back to your place and have a drink and you could tell me all about your plans for the PR project,” he said.

  I released a flirtatious giggle. “Oh, the project, huh?”

  “Yep.” Anyone paying us any attention would have no problem figuring out what he wanted from me. “Where do you live?”

  “In some condos near downtown. Peachtree Estates.”

  “Oh, those are nice. My friend was the architect on them; they were subsidized with a city grant. But you know, I never have seen the inside of one,” he said, licking his bottom lip.

  “Well, what kind of citizen would I be if I didn’t let you see firsthand our tax dollars at work? I’ll text you the address,” I said as I headed toward the door.

  I HAD TEXTED ANTHONY my address, and since I’d been home for fifteen minutes now, I was starting to think he’d changed his mind. And since I was hovering between gleefully moving forward and changing my mind myself, I started telling myself that it was probably a good thing he wasn’t coming.

  And then my doorbell rang.

  I glanced through the peephole. Anthony was standing with a bottle of wine in his hand and apprehension all over his face.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “Come on in,” I said.

  He cleared his throat and all traces of nervousness left his face. “I just stopped for wine.” He held up the bottle of Pinot Grigio.

  I took the bottle and stepped aside for him to enter. “Have a seat and I’ll get something to open the wine.”

  Inside the kitchen, I grabbed the electric wine opener, opened the bottle, then took the bottle with two glasses into the living room.

  Anthony was standing right where I left him. I stared at him for a moment and we held our glances, until he looked away. Then I set the wine and glasses on the table and sauntered over to the sofa.

  “Come on,” I purred, taking his hand. I was in full seduction mode. “Have a seat.”

  He settled onto the sofa, though he sat on the edge. “So, tell me about these big things you handled in D.C.,” I said, while I lowered myself onto the couch next to him. I popped the cork on the wine and poured us both a glass.

  “Nothing I can really talk about just yet. But it could mean big news for our city.”

  I handed him his glass, set mine on the coffee table, and reached for his suit jacket. “I can’t wait to hear all the details. Here, let me put these magic hands to use. I used to be a masseuse when I was in college. So come on, and relax,” I teased. And then, as I rolled his jacket from his shoulders, I whispered, “You don’t need to be scared of me.”

  After I helped him slip the jacket off, I pointed to the ottoman. It took him a moment to move, but his hesitation didn’t concern me. When he sat on the ottoman, my fingertips grazed his shoulders and he tensed.

  “Relax,” I whispered.

  I squeezed his shoulder blades and it took only seconds for him to melt beneath my touch.

  I said a silent prayer of gratitude for that six months as a masseuse in college.

  Moving my fingers to his neck, I said, “Oh yeah. You’re really tense. Do you ever get massages?” I asked, kneading my knuckles into his shoulders.

  “No,” he moaned. “I just don’t have time.”

  “You have to make time,” I said. “These knots are out of control.”

  Within a few minutes, his moans began to sound like a song. “Ummmm. That feels so good.”

  “I told you I’m a master at this.” I reached over, picked up his glass of wine, and handed it to him. “Sip.”

  He didn’t sip. He turned the whole glass up.

  “A tad thirsty, are we?” I chuckled. For someone who was so suave in his flirting, Anthony Ford was acting like this was uncharted territory for him.

  He laughed as he set the glass down, then reached for the bottle for a refill. I was a little shocked at his nervousness. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe he’d been an all-flirt-and-no-action type of guy. “No, I just needed a drink.”

  It was the way h
e sipped and the way he relaxed that made me decide it was time to take my professional massage to the next level. From his neck, I let my fingers tickle a trail down his back.

  “Gosh. You have knots in here that are like small plums,” I said, though I felt nothing. “I’m surprised that you haven’t been to the doctor. You are all worked up. Here, let me get in here good.” Pressing my chest against his back, I reached around to the front of his shirt, but before I could touch the first button, his hand gripped mine.

  “Umm, maybe you shouldn’t.” His voice was soft and unsure.

  “It’s just a massage,” I said, letting my whisper match his. “Relax.”

  It took a moment before he dropped his hand away and I stepped in front of him. I kept my eyes away from his as I unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall from his shoulders.

  Not bad for a fifty-three-year-old man. But nothing that would have turned me on—on a regular day.

  Still, I said, “Wow, you look good.”

  That brought a smile to his face.

  “But business is business,” I said, fanning myself. “Whew!” Then I returned to the massage. “Do you work out?” I said in between kneads.

  “If you count walking from my car to my office.” He moved his head in a circle, savoring the feeling. “But that’s just another thing I don’t have time for.”

  “Well, I can’t tell.”

  “Oh, you’re being way too nice.”

  “I’m only speaking the truth.”

  For minutes I squeezed and kneaded, and when he was totally loose, I said, “You know what? I can’t really get into it in this dress. Let me get comfortable so I can really work these knots out. Here, have another drink.” I handed him the wine bottle, then sashayed into the bedroom, letting my hips sway as much as I could, knowing his eyes were on me.

  The bedroom was in a direct line to the living room. With just a turn of his head, Anthony could have watched me. And when I turned around, his eyes were still on me.

  But with a coy smile, I closed the door, then laughed once I was out of his sight. This was so easy.

  I had already laid out my red slinky skater dress and slipped into it. In front of the mirror I adjusted the straps, making sure my boobs were lifted, my cleavage was prominent, and the dress was long enough to cover my butt yet short enough to show my thighs. I felt a sense of excitement. Not because of anything with him, but because revenge was wetting my palate. I’d set the bait. Now I needed to reel him in.