by Carmen Green
“What’s he doing?” Kirk asked.
Tia met Byron’s stare evenly.
What was he doing? Was he jealous that she was with another man?
There was no class tonight. So he couldn’t say she’d be late or that he was there to offer her a ride. Maybe he thought Kirk was involved in her plot to retaliate against Ginger’s husband.
Kirk put the car in park. “Maybe he thinks I pulled into traffic illegally. I hate cops who take their jobs too seriously. Maybe if you smile at him, he’ll be nice.”
“It’ll take more than that. Believe me.”
Byron turned away and started moving his mouth.
As he talked, she admired the shift of his jaw, the way it clenched and relaxed as he spoke. She studied it now as she had a hundred times before.
He looked at her suddenly, gave her a two-fingered salute that looked more like a warning, then pulled off, taking the corner ahead in a hurry.
What had taken him away so quickly? Tia didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling of disappointment in her stomach. Although she hadn’t been expecting Byron, it was nice knowing he’d been there.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Don’t sound so disappointed. That smile worked like magic.”
“Okay, we need to have an understanding. I’m in relationship recovery. So if your intentions are anything more than friendship, you should probably take me to the bus stop—after we stop at Chicken and Waffles and get me something to eat.”
Kirk gave her a long look before they both burst out laughing.
“Yeah?” he asked, following the directions of the automated voice.
“Yeah,” Tia confirmed.
“Then let’s get you some food, enjoy some friendly conversation and nothing more. Sound good to you?”
“Perfect.”
Tia swallowed the last of her food and laughed when Kirk eyed her plate.
“You want something else?” he asked.
“Don’t ask. You might have to get a job washing dishes. I might eat a hole in your wallet.”
He pretended to wince and smiled. He would be perfect for Megan if she wasn’t so strange right now. “My wallet can handle it. After all you’ve told me about your job, why don’t you just quit? You can get something else. You’re certainly marketable.”
“You heard Rhonda/Ronnie. I’m supposedly the best.” Tia didn’t really believe all his hype, but a part of her wanted to. “I’ve never walked away from anything. I can’t now.”
“Tia, there’s no shame in leaving a job that’s no longer working for you. That’s the thing about options. I think of them as coins.” He pulled a handful from his pocket and showed them to her. “See these? All different sizes and colors. When you need them, you pick what’s best, what’s right for that time.”
She smiled. “Good analogy. I guess I’m just not there yet.”
“Then you should fulfill your destiny. I’m proud of you for not bailing out. If you ever change your mind, consider radio. We could use a good weather, traffic, full-time whatever we need you to be person.”
Tia smiled at the vague but all-inclusive job description. Lately, her job had turned into a girl Friday–type thing, and although not what she wanted, it was far more interesting than just editing weather copy for Ben.
“Thanks, Kirk. I’ll keep an open mind.” Her cell phone interrupted the life lesson, and Tia picked up. “Hello?”
“It’s Sonny.”
“Oh. Hey. What are you doing calling me?” Tia sat up straight, the shine rubbing off an otherwise enjoyable evening.
“Megan’s here again. At my house.”
Tia wondered why she should give a rip but was reminded of the last picture Megan had painted of Sonny’s severed penis. “What’s she doing?”
“Sitting on the porch.”
“Why? I mean, has she said anything?”
“Only that she wants to talk to me.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Do you know what she looks like? Like she came straight out of living in Grant Park. She’s covered in paint. And she smells.”
“Damn, Sonny. Four weeks ago you were engaged to the girl, and now you’re married to someone else. Excuse Megan for not being able to make the transition as quickly as you.”
Kirk paid their check and picked up Tia’s jacket. She edged out of her seat. “What are you doing?” she asked as he ushered her from the restaurant.
“We’re going to get your friend.”
Tia hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
“Tia,” Sonny said in her ear, “you’re her girl, and maybe you can talk some sense into her. Come get her. This is the last time. If it happens again, I’m calling the cops.” Sonny hung up.
“What a jerk,” Kirk said. Tia hurried alongside him as they half jogged through the parking lot to the car. “I take it that was her ex.”
“Yeah, a real winner. He broke up with her, married another woman the next day, and Megan hasn’t taken it too well.”
“She didn’t look like herself earlier, but I figured she was an artist. They can look rather strange. I still thought she was cute.”
She gave him an odd look. “Yeah, well, she isn’t an artist but should be, and this is strange for her. She’s been working as a corrections officer for the past four years, until she got put on leave three weeks ago.” Tia fell silent.
“And?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this. Megan’s my girl. I feel like I’m being disloyal.” She gave him directions, but otherwise, they stayed quiet for a while.
“How about this?” he finally said. “I’ve suffered from bipolar disorder for five years now. It’s rare, but I have my bad times, too. You’re a good friend, Tia. When I met you I got that feeling.”
They pulled onto Sonny’s street and up to the house.
Megan was sitting on the porch, her head resting on her knees. A woman sat beside her, patting her back. Sonny was nowhere to be found.
Tia approached slowly, looking between the pair. “Hey, Meg. How are you, sweetie?”
“Fine. I came by to return something.”
Tia looked around and didn’t see a bag of any kind. Megan had probably had a water/paint moment. “Did you give it to ...” Tia looked at the woman next to her friend.
“I’m Vivian. Sonny’s wife,” said the woman, mouthing the last two words.
Tia gave her the once-over. She was all right. Not as cute as her friend, but with a quiet confidence and calm air about her, which warred with the situation. “Did you give your package to Vivian?” Tia asked.
Megan rubbed her eyes. “I forgot it. Tia, I did a stupid thing coming over here.”
Tia didn’t say anything but extended her hand to her friend. Rain splattered her hand and wrist. “You ready to go home?”
Megan looked at Vivian. “She mentioned a place I might go for a little time off. There’s people I can talk to. Maybe help me move on.”
Vivian handed Tia a card, and Tia and Kirk helped Megan up. They walked slowly to his car, and Vivian hugged Megan, who couldn’t stop crying. “You’re going to be fine. When you’re well, we’ll talk,” whispered Vivian.
With Megan and Kirk in the backseat of the car, Tia turned to Sonny’s wife. “You’re so nice to her. Why?”
“She needed compassion. I don’t blame her. Please make sure she gets help. I made a call to the Atlanta Psychiatric Center. They’re expecting her.”
“How convenient.”
“It’s her choice, Tia. I understand your concern, and I know how this looks.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Vivian said, nodding. “I do.”
All the fight in Tia flew away, and her stomach settled a bit. She stood there a moment, so many questions running through her head, she had to ask at least one. “How long have you known Sonny?”
“All my life. We grew up across the street from one another. It was love from knee-high. Relationships came and we
nt, and I’m just sorry she got caught in the crosshairs of our love drama. Neither Sonny nor I handled this well. Seeing her like this proves we could have done things a lot differently. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ellis.”
She smiled gently. “Just Vivian.”
After Tia was in bed at Megan’s that night, the events of the day wouldn’t stop running through her head. She’d started in one way and ended in another.
The whole thing was just—she searched for the appropriate word—bizarre. Bizarre was the only one that would fit.
First, Megan had painted the walls, then Tia’d sold two purses, received unexpected support from Rhonda/Ronnie, had dinner with Kirk, rescued Megan, and then had a frank conversation with Vivian.
Tia never, ever, thought she and “the other woman” would share a moment of camaraderie, let alone a common goal of Megan’s better health, and now as she lay alone in bed, unable to sleep, all she could think about was sharing the events of her day with Byron.
Tia wasn’t sure what to think.
She glanced at her cell phone and noted the time. Byron worked until seven in the morning. He was up now, and so was she. Unable to resist, she dialed and couldn’t help the sting of disappointment at getting his voice mail.
“I saw you today,” she said, and cringed. That wasn’t what she’d wanted to say. She didn’t want to sound accusatory. Actually, she was flattered that she’d invited him to watch her ass, and he did. It was ego boosting at a time when her ego had more holes than a political alibi.
A growing part of her wanted to pursue the lustful looks he often tried to conceal.
“Today was strange,” she continued. “I just thought I’d share that with you. Okay. I sold two purses. You don’t care about that. Okay. Bye. Don’t call me back.” She blinked at the ridiculous statement. “I hope I already said good-bye.”
Tia turned over and hollered into her pillow. “Damn, damn, damn. That was the dumbest phone call ever. He’s going to think you’re crazy.”
The phone beeped twice.
Tia looked at the receiver in her hand. In her tiny tantrum, she’d just hung up. Crap. He’d heard everything.
She dropped the phone and closed her eyes. If she fell asleep, in her dreams she’d probably get eaten by a dinosaur. Somehow that seemed better than facing Byron tomorrow.
Chapter Nineteen
Byron changed the battery in his cell phone and swore under his breath. The damned thing wasn’t working again. Yesterday he’d gotten messages from three days ago and none today. He sat in his squad car, trying to get the back off the cell phone, when his radio beeped.
“Officer Rivers responding, over.”
“A message from your sister. Your cell phone isn’t working. Are you okay?”
Byron stared out into the dark night and shook his head in disbelief. “Tell Camilla again that she can’t use the police department dispatcher to let me know my cell phone isn’t working, which I already know. I don’t care if she is married to my former chief’s son. I’ll call her when I get home in the morning.”
The dispatcher laughed. “Copy that. She said thanks for the late Christmas present. Something about the bag being perfect. Major Snell out.”
Byron disconnected the call and put his car in gear. He’d heard the guys in the back laughing, but he didn’t care. His baby sister was a princess who’d never struggled a day in her life. She’d met and married the chief’s son ten years ago, and they were as happy today as they’d been the day they’d met. And although she was married, Byron had never gotten over spoiling her. Perhaps if he had a woman of his own, he’d be different.
He stopped at the all-night gas station on Fourteenth and went inside.
“Hey, Prakash. Good night tonight?”
“Very well, Atlanta’s finest.”
“I need to use your phone please.”
“Sure, Byron. But only if you stop the rain,” the clerk joked, a happy smile splitting his face. The older man had been in Atlanta twenty years but hadn’t lost his heavy Indian accent.
“I’ll make a call.” Byron winked and folded his hands as if to pray.
Prakash was definitely a praying man. He grinned bigger. “Then I’ll buzz you in. Your cell phone not working again?”
Byron groaned. “No and no. I’m not buying one of those rip-off joints you sell. I’ll go to the cellular store tomorrow and get a replacement.”
Prakash giggled. “You insult me and want to use my phone. I think that will cost extra.”
Byron smiled back at the man as he dialed his cell number and listened to his messages. Tia’s message sounded discombobulated, but it was good to hear her wanting to share with him rather than keep secrets. He noted the time and saw that only thirty minutes had passed.
It must have been a long day if she was still awake at this odd hour.
Seeing her earlier with another man had stoked jealous embers he’d thought long gone, but obviously there were not. The jealous feelings had reminded him that he was still a healthy man with unfulfilled needs.
Although Tia sounded tired, she was probably still awake.
He dialed her number, and she answered on the first ring.
“Tia Amberson.”
“Byron. How bad was your day?”
The question sounded intimate, as if they’d been sharing these intimate details for years. He and Tia fought but, in some ways, knew more about each other than most couples.
Ever since she’d invited him to watch her, he’d become a student of her life. He knew how she took her burgers and that she liked to window-shop the day before payday. She loved Victoria’s Secret panties and expensive shoes. She would close her eyes and throw back her head at the taste of rich dark chocolate, which she sampled only when it was offered by the Godiva lady in the mall, and he now knew why she waited to catch the 7:15 bus and got off on Courtland on Wednesdays.
The Sheraton had a happy hour that ended at eight, and she’d befriended the chef, who always had a plate ready for her if she did one thing. She had to kiss the old man on the cheek.
Tia would take the plate, give him a kiss, and catch the 8:10 bus home. The driver would accept her transfer, if she sat in the front seat and showed him a little leg.
She was sexy, humorous, curious, and fearless. And she’d called to share that with him. He felt himself getting hard just thinking about her.
“How bad was your day?” he repeated.
“I thought you were somebody from work,” she said, letting her voice relax.
“I can hang up if you’re resting.”
“No, my day was so bad that I can’t sleep, so I got up, and I’m having a glass of wine. I take it you got my message.”
“Yes. I won’t hold that message against you.” She chuckled. “Thank goodness.”
“Nothing wrong with the house, I hope?”
“No. No new break-ins to report, Officer.”
“I’m relieved,” he said and chuckled. Her silence troubled him. Usually, she’d have something smart to say. “New trouble with Manuel?”
“No.”
“Your roommate?”
“Ding, ding. You hit the jackpot.”
He could hear her sipping her wine in the silence. “Sounds rough,” he added.
“Ended not so great, but it wasn’t that awful.” Her voice said otherwise, but he didn’t push. “What number is this?” she asked.
“I’m at a store.”
“The grocery store?”
“No. Well, they have groceries. It’s a convenience store.”
“Leave it to you to be specific,” she said, with a chuckle. “I would kill for some cheese Pringles.”
“I have lunch coming up in about ten minutes. Care to join me?”
“It’s three forty-five in the morning,” she said, sounding just shy of incredulous. “Aren’t you on duty?”
“I am, but I have food. I can stop by, unless you’ve got a better offer or comp
any.”
He was digging, he knew. But he had to know. Had to hear in her voice if the man he’d seen her with earlier was her new man.
The sound of pattering rain filled the short silence. “I’m alone.” Her voice dropped an octave, to a sexy depth of truth and promise.
“Cheese?” he asked, his heart racing.
“That’s right.”
“See you in ten minutes.”
“Ten, it is,” she said and hung up.
Byron paid for his selections and was on his way in two minutes. Outside her place by 3:58 a.m., he knocked, his shoulders hunched to keep the rain from running down his neck. When Tia opened the door, he got a good glimpse of her. Long Tweety Bird pajama bottoms and a spaghetti-strap top hardly covered her womanly shape.
“Hey,” he said, soaking in the sight of her, with her hair down and her body relaxed.
“How long do you have for lunch?” she asked.
“Forty-five minutes.”
“Okay,” she said, barely meeting his gaze. “Come in.”
Byron couldn’t help but watch the sway of her hips as she walked into the living room. The paintings that had dominated the walls were now gone. No more hatchet in the private area. No more emasculated men. “Hey.” He turned, noting the difference. “The walls—”
“They knocked down the center wall to make this into one big room. Megan wanted more of a studio feel.”
“So where is Megan?”
“Atlanta Psychiatric Center.”
“Wow.” Byron gazed at her. “You can’t just say that and leave me hanging. What happened?”
“She went over to Sonny’s house.”
“Her ex?”
“Right.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, did everything end okay?”
Byron opened his bag lunch on the kitchen counter, on a paper towel Tia handed him. A film of dust covered the surfaces, except where she’d shown him to unpack his lunch. In the few minutes she’d had before his arrival, she’d tried to tidy up a bit.
Her hair was still sleep tossed, but she’d cleaned off the counter and uncovered a chair for him. The rest were stacked in the corner, draped with heavy clear plastic.
Tia leaned back against the sink and put her arm under her breasts and her wineglass to her lips.