by Pamela Yaye
“Sorry I’m late. I had to drop the boys off at school.”
Simone wanted to sit down, but there wasn’t an empty chair in sight. Women with busted weaves, chipped nails and bushy eyebrows flipped impatiently through magazines, played on their cell phones and shot evil daggers at their respective hairstylists.
Picking up two of the complimentary sodas on the table, Angela handed one to Simone, broke the tab on her own and took a long, satisfying drink. “Um, that tastes good. I was in such a hurry to get here I didn’t have time to eat breakfast.”
“How was Philly?”
“Girl,” Angela drawled, eyes flashlight bright, lips curved into a devilish smirk, “you wouldn’t believe all the mess I uncovered on these pro athletes.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, trust me, you can’t. They’re assaulting women, betting on games and bribing cops. I’ve found so much dirt my one-hour special has become a three-part series!”
“Wow, Angela, that’s great!”
“I know, huh? I’m so excited for the segment to air, I can’t sleep. And you know how I feel about getting adequate beauty rest!” Angela laughed at her own joke. “I’ve been posting teasers on Facebook, and tweeting about it, too, and the response has been so overwhelming the station’s decided to air part one on Friday instead of next month.”
“I’m so happy for you. This could be the big break you’ve been waiting for, Angela. The one that will catapult your career to the next level.”
“Let’s hope so, because I’m sick of Eye on Chicago being at the bottom of the ratings.”
“After your segment airs you’ll be leading the pack!”
The women bumped soda cans. “Amen to that!”
“So, how are you doing?” Angela asked, taking off her jacket and draping it over her arm.
“Good. Great. Things couldn’t be better.”
“That must mean you and Marcus made up. When did he come back home?”
Simone stared down at her feet. Her throat was sore and it hurt to swallow, but she forced the truth out of her mouth. “He didn’t.”
“Do you want me to try talking to him?”
“No, that might make things worse.” He’s left you and probably already hired a divorce attorney, her conscience reminded her. What could be worse than that?
“I know you’re sick of hearing me saying this every day, but try not to stress. You and Marcus love each other. You’ll work things out.”
“You think so?”
“For sure. In the meantime, keep your head up. You have your kids, your family and a great new job to be thankful for.” Slanting her head to the right, she grinned. “And you put the g in gorgeous, girlfriend. You’re working the hell out of those jeans!”
Lifting her gaze up from the floor, she raised her head and straightened her shoulders. What Jayden and Jordan told her that morning came to mind. All wasn’t lost. Marcus still loved her, still desired her, that much Simone knew for sure. Two months ago, she’d done a “drive-by” on her husband, and she still remembered how much wicked fun they’d had in his office. “I should bring Marcus lunch when we finish up here. It’s been ages since I did that, and maybe a warm meal will soften him up a bit.”
“Now you’re talking! Marcus will be so happy to see you he’ll forget all about the—”
“Simone, heifer, is that you?”
Tameika, her longtime stylist with the bigger-than-life personality, rushed over. Squealing, she threw her arms around Simone and squeezed with all her might. “I haven’t seen you in a minute. How the heck are you, sisterfriend?”
Simone laughed. Angela was right; coming to Glamour Girlz to get their hair and nails done was a good idea. She needed something to take her mind off Marcus, and the outrageous things Tameika said always cracked her up. “I’m good. Can’t complain.”
“You’ve been driving around the city with your hair looking like this?” Tameika reached out and combed flawlessly manicured fingernails through Simone’s windswept locks. “You need to come in every week for a treatment or you’re going to lose all this thick, healthy hair.”
“I got a new job, and now that the boys are in school and taking every extracurricular activity under the sun, I’m busier than ever.”
“Missed you at the mayor’s luncheon yesterday,” she said, popping her chewing gum. “Shoot, if my man was being honored, I’d be sitting front row in my Sunday best! I’m taking hair, makeup and a hot little number from Baby Phat!”
Simone swallowed hard and took a moment to digest this new, shocking piece of information.
And when she noticed everyone in the salon—from the wailing toddler to the plus-size manicurist with the 1970s bouffant—was staring at her, her temperature soared. “Marcus received a community service award?” she asked, unable to believe it. Not because he didn’t deserve the recognition, but because he’d never said a word to her.
“He didn’t tell you?” Tameika made a sucking sound with her teeth. “Shoot, he’s fine and humble? Girl, I’d kill you and assume your identity if I thought I could get away with it!”
Everyone in the room cracked up.
“I talked to your brother-in-law, you know, the buff one with the smoky eyes. He’s hot, but I just wish he had a little more paper. Everyone knows mechanics don’t make no money—”
“Derek was at the luncheon?”
“Yeah, the whole family was there. Well, everyone except you.”
Simone felt a laser-sharp pain in her side. It was so crippling, so debilitating, her knees buckled. Water filled her eyes as she struggled to control the trembling in her arms and legs.
Why didn’t Marcus remind me about the luncheon? Or mention that he was receiving a citizenship award? The truth hit Simone like a slap in the face. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me there. It was as simple as that. And the realization that Marcus didn’t care about her, didn’t love her enough to include her, was more than she could bear.
Mumbling an apology to Angela and a promise to call her later, Simone spun on her heels and rushed through the salon and out the door before the first tear hit her cheek.
Chapter 19
“You’ve got this,” Marcus told himself, staring at his reflection in his office mirror. “That job with the Chicago Bears is yours for the taking, so don’t screw this up.” Feeling his confidence grow, he adjusted his pinstripe suit jacket. He felt like his tie was strangling him, so he loosened the knot. It didn’t help any. The lump in his throat and the heaviness in his chest still remained.
“How the hell did things get to this?” he asked himself, his gaze straying to the framed picture displayed proudly on the wall. The one he’d taken with Simone and the kids at the water park last summer. “How could things have gotten so screwed up so bad?”
His meeting with the general manager of the Chicago Bears was in an hour, but instead of prepping for his interview or reviewing his notes about the championship winning team, he was replaying the argument he’d had with Simone. It was all he could think of. The only thing on his mind. That and how their separation was affecting Jayden and Jordan.
Marcus stared back at his reflection. He looked sluggish, like an emergency room doctor at the end of a twelve-hour shift, and he was so tired he couldn’t even smile. That’s because I have nothing to smile about, he thought sourly, turning toward the window. A layer of low, gray clouds drifted across the sky, and the bleak, chilly weather mirrored his bitter mood.
Patting back a yawn, he returned to his desk and flopped down on his chair. He felt run-down, bummed, had zero energy. And until he made up with Simone, he could kiss a good night’s sleep goodbye. Walking out on her had been the biggest mistake of his life. He should have stayed, should have tried to talk things out. Marcus was scared to death of losing Simone, and
he knew if he wanted to make his marriage work, he had to make some big changes in his life. His wife needed him, and so did his sons, and he wanted to be there for them. He had to go to Simone, had to tell her that he was willing to change. He’d planned to do just that yesterday at the mayor’s luncheon, but Simone was a no-show. He’d been looking forward to seeing her all week, and he’d spent the whole afternoon with his gaze fixed on the ballroom doors.
Why didn’t Simone attend the luncheon? Had she been busy drawing up divorce papers with Jaxson Stafford? All kinds of terrible thoughts ran through his mind. Early on in their marriage they’d agreed never to use the d word, and up until now, neither one of them had.
Hanging his head in shame, he scratched at the stubble on his jaw. If he ended up losing his wife, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, lose his family over this. Simone was his heart, his soul, the only woman he wanted to spend his life with.
Man up, man, and do what’s right! Marcus raised his head and straightened his shoulders. Thanksgiving was next week, and he had no intention of spending the holiday alone. As soon as his meeting wrapped up he was going home—back to where he belonged, back to his wife and kids. His family. The people he loved more than life itself. He was prepared to do anything to make amends, because he couldn’t imagine living another day without Simone. He wanted to love her, kiss her, wake up every morning with her cradled in his arms, her soft scent perfuming the air with its sweetness.
His phone rang. Hoping against all hope that it was Simone, he snatched it up off the cradle and waited to hear her sultry tone on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Mr. Young, this is Jayden and Jordan’s music teacher, Ms. Watkins.” Her voice was crisp, as commanding as a drill sergeant, the complete opposite of his wife’s silky tone.
“Hello, how are you?”
“Not good, I’m afraid.”
Marcus blew out a breath. He knew what this was about. This wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to one of his son’s teachers, and, sadly, he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Jayden was a model student, but Jordan loved to cause trouble. He played pranks on his friends, had a hell of a time paying attention in class and loved ripping down the halls. Marcus sighed. He’d been the same way at that age, but that didn’t mean he was going to excuse Jordan’s behavior. He wasn’t. He was going to give his son a stern talking-to—again. Marcus only hoped this time he wouldn’t crack up when Jordan made that sad, puppy dog face.
“Mrs. Young hasn’t arrived yet to pick up the boys, and she isn’t answering her cell or your home phone, either.”
Marcus frowned and checked the time on his watch. “But it’s almost five o’clock. She should’ve been there an hour ago.”
“I know, that’s why I decided to call you. This is so unlike her. Mrs. Young is always the first parent to arrive, and when she didn’t show up after thirty minutes, I started to worry.”
“Have you tried her office?”
“Yes, apparently today’s her day off.”
“It is?”
His question was met with silence.
“Please, don’t take offense to me asking, Mr. Young, but is everything okay at home?”
“Why?” he asked, dodging the question. “Did the boys say something?”
“No, Jayden is his usual sweet, sensitive self, and Jordan is as rambunctious as ever.” She laughed, and added, “He’s racing around the music room as we speak!”
Her joke lightened the mood, but Marcus’s mind was spinning, racing, trying to make sense of what was going on. “I’ll come and pick up the boys.”
“Okay, they will be waiting for you in the front office.”
“Great, thanks!”
If he hurried, he could pick up the boys and be back in time for his four o’clock meeting. After leaving a message on Simone’s voice mail, he buzzed his secretary and told her he was stepping out. As he swiped his cell phone off his desk, it rang. Marcus put it to his ear, but when he heard Derek’s deep, raspy voice, his first thought was to hang up.
“You still mad?”
Marcus felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. Hell, yeah, he was still mad. Because of his bigmouthed brother his marriage was in shambles. His conscience rejected the claim. You had a hand in it, too, you Trojan workhorse! “What do you want, Derek? Now’s not a good time.”
“I’m just leaving downtown. You free for a bite to eat?”
Marcus put on his leather jacket. “No. I have to grab the kids from school.”
“Let’s hook up later then.”
“Hey, D., can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, bro, anything.”
While Marcus searched for his car keys, he explained to Derek what was going on. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I just want to make sure Simone’s okay, so can you stop by my place and see—”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You’re only a few blocks away.”
“I know, but the last time I saw Simone I was a complete ass, and I don’t want her to smack me!” His tone was serious, somber. “I was pissed off about getting fired from my job and took out my frustration on her.”
“All will be forgiven if you swing by the house and check on her for me.”
“Why can’t you go? Got a big meeting you can’t miss?”
Marcus winced. His brother didn’t mean to offend him, but the damage had been done. His friends and family thought he was a workaholic, someone addicted to brokering deals and making money, but he wasn’t. He worked to forget. To forget the explosive arguments his parents used to have, to forget all the times his father called him a stupid mistake.
Giving his head a hard shake, he obliterated all thoughts of his estranged father from his mind. He’d made it. Risen above the verbal and physical abuse and built a life that he could be proud of. A life that included a beautiful wife, two awesome children and a business that was growing in leaps and bounds.
“Why don’t I go pick up the boys and you go check on Simone?” Derek suggested. “I’ll take Jayden and Jordan back to Mom’s, and you can come scoop them later.”
“Thanks, D. I owe you one.” Marcus heard his phone beep, knew he had another call coming through and told Derek he’d call him later. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me, Angela.”
Sighing in relief, he dropped down on his seat. “What happened? Did Simone forget to charge her cell again? Is that why she isn’t answering her calls?”
“No, she’s...she’s in the hospital.”
When Marcus shot to his feet, his chair flew across the room and banged into the wall. Head and heart pounding, he pushed the questions running through his mind up and out of his mouth. “What happened? Is she okay? Is she hurt?”
“I—I—I don’t know,” Angela stammered, her tone shaky, scared. “One minute we were outside the beauty salon talking, and the next thing I know Simone’s doubled over in pain. The doctors think it’s her appendix, but they won’t know for sure until the X-rays come back.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“No, the nurse gave her some painkillers that knocked her out cold.”
“I’m on my way.” But instead of tearing out of his office, Marcus clasped his hands and stared up at the ceiling. Then he did something he hadn’t done in years: he prayed.
Chapter 20
Marcus burst through the emergency room doors of Northwestern Memorial Hospital, his heart pounding, the sleeves of his suit drenched in fear and sweat. Overrun with patients, and distraught-looking family members, the emergency department was alive with chaos and activity. Monitors beeped, strident voices argued in foreign languages and an elderly woman’s deep, racking sobs almost drowned out the telephones ringing off the hook at the nurse’s station.
Marcus scanned the waiti
ng area for Angela. He found her sitting in a blue plastic chair, beside the window, rocking back and forth. “How is she?” he asked, stepping over a group of prostrate children doing a puzzle on the floor. “Any word on Simone’s condition?”
“Not yet.” Angela was wearing a brave face, but Marcus could tell that she’d been crying. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bloodshot and she was gnawing on her bottom lip. “I’m glad you’re here. Sitting here, waiting, is nerve-racking.”
She hugged him, gripped his leather jacket so tight he could feel her arms shaking.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Angela sniffed, slowly nodded her head. “I know. I just hate hospitals. Every time I’m in one, I lose someone I love.”
Marcus knew Angela was thinking about her mom and that cold winter night she’d died of a drug overdose and wondered if he was about to suffer the same fate.
Am I going to lose Simone? At the thought, his eyes filled with water and his body went numb. “Tell me again what happened, and don’t leave anything out, because none of this makes sense.”
Angela told Marcus everything. About the discussion at the beauty salon, about how Simone had stormed out crying and her futile attempts to calm her best friend down.
“This is all my fault. I should never have walked out on her.” Marcus lowered his head and rubbed a hand across his neck. His conscience tormented him, laid the blame square on his shoulders. “I was angry and needed to get away for a while. I wasn’t trying to hurt her....”
“I know. I believe you.” Angela reached out and squeezed his hand. “Simone loves you, Marcus, and she’ll do anything to make you happy, even read silly self-help books to improve your marriage. But when you blow Simone off for work it makes her feel like you don’t care—”
“But I do!”
“Then show her.”
He nodded, gave some serious thought to what she said. “I hear you. And I will.”