“But we should talk,” Jamaal protested.
“I—I do not want to talk right now,” Karlie admitted. She felt ashamed at her ignorance and just wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep for days. She just knew that Jamaal would laugh at her because she did not know what she was doing. She had never kissed a boy before, and she felt like she was about to die from sheer embarrassment. Karlie quickly headed for the front door and held it open. She could not even look Jamaal in the eyes. Practically pushing him out the door, she said a quick good night and closed it with a gentle click. She saw Jamaal’s puzzlement at her hasty retreat, but she wasn’t about to offer any explanations. She did not know how she was going to go to school and face him the next day. Karlie was horrified at the thought of him telling his friends how green she was.
She went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. Karlie picked up her pillow and placed her lips on it. She tried to kiss it as she had often seen on TV. It was not working. Frustrated, Karlie went downstairs to the kitchen to get a snack out of the refrigerator. Maybe she would ask Tanya for some tips. The next time she saw Jamaal, she was going to get this right and impress him. The doorbell rang. She hoped Jamaal hadn’t returned to finish their conversation. Her feet dragged as she went to answer the door.
It was Neil.
Karlie beamed and quickly opened the door to let him in. “Hi, Mr. Jameson.” Her smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.
“Hey, Karlie,” Neil said with a smile. “I was about to pull into my driveway when I just had an urge to check on your mother and see how she’s doing. By the way, how’s school going?”
“Okay,” Karlie answered. “I’m doing okay. Math is my biggest struggle. My friend Jamaal is helping me, but I just can’t get it.”
“Who’s Jamaal?” Neil queried.
Karlie blushed, then shyly answered, “He’s my friend from school.”
“Oh, I see,” he said. Seeing her acute embarrassment, Neil spared her any further questions.
Tiffany was resting in bed but sat up once she heard Karlie enter the room. “Hey.”
“Neil is downstairs,” Karlie informed her mother.
“Oh, I thought I heard the doorbell, but I wasn’t sure. Is Jamaal still here?”
“No, he went home,” Karlie explained. Her text message signal went off. “That’s him now,” she explained and wandered off to her room.
Tiffany combed her hair and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash before going downstairs.
As soon as he saw her, Neil asked, “Want some tea?”
“Aw, thanks.” Tiffany smiled at his thoughtfulness. She watched as he put the kettle on and took out the things he would need. Neil possessed a pleasant and calming aura that appealed to her on all levels.
“So how are you feeling?” Neil asked, making conversation.
Tiffany groaned and did a so-so movement with her hand. “I was in pain earlier, but I am better now. Thanks. How’s Myra?”
“She’s doing okay,” Neil returned.
“Oh, I haven’t seen her since we went to church,” Tiffany commented.
“Well, I know she’s been up to her neck grading history projects,” Neil explained. He changed the subject. “I was just talking with Karlie about school, and she said that her friend Jamaal is helping her with math.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Hmm . . . Jamaal.”
“Don’t like him?”
“It not that. I like him well enough, but I don’t really know him. Karlie says he’s very smart, but, well, honestly, he looks like a thug and he doesn’t speak to me,” Tiffany huffed. “And I know better than to outright forbid her from seeing him.”
“Well, he’s probably nervous being around such a beautiful woman. Perhaps even star struck.”
Tiffany blushed at Neil’s compliment. “Thanks.”
“I’m only telling the truth.” He brought their tea to the table and dove into his main reason for stopping in. “Tiffany, I was doing some research on the Internet. I think you should get a nurse, a dietician, and start some therapy. I downloaded the research. . . .” Neil launched into sharing all the information he had found.
Tiffany listened to everything Neil had to say. She was touched at his obvious concern. “Neil, I appreciate your efforts, but all that you are telling me I already know. I just did not think I needed any of that,” Tiffany explained. “I am dying, so what’s the point of all that?”
“Because you have a daughter,” Neil informed her matter-of-factly. “And you have got to fight this thing to the very end. That is why. Tiffany, you cannot just give up on your life because of the cancer. You can decide not to let it get the best of you. The God I serve tells me that. He never gives you more than you can bear. Tiffany, you can still fight with all your being.”
“I see what you are saying. Maybe I just wanted to hear somebody say those words, you know. My own mother has not even called. She could not have cared less when I told her. It’s nice to know somebody wants me around.”
Neil looked at her in amazement. “God loves you too. Do not forget about Him. God is the best comforter you can have.”
“I just don’t know Him like you do,” Tiffany countered, then shrugged. “I am going to make those calls. I do need the help, and I can afford it. I just don’t know if I want somebody waiting on me hand and foot. But I do need to start some sort of therapy regimen. It could help ease the pain and discomfort I have been feeling.”
“Well, if you don’t want a nurse, what about asking Myra to help in the evenings when she is home?”
Tiffany harrumphed. “Myra? I don’t know, Neil. Having her up the block is one thing. Having her in close proximity is another. Myra would be all up in my business. I don’t know if I am too ready for her . . . piety.”
“Myra is still your friend,” Neil gently reminded her.
Tiffany felt guilty. “You’re right. Myra is a friend. I’ll consider it.”
“Now that that is settled, can you do me a favor?”
“What?” Tiffany asked.
“Sing me a song.”
Tiffany looked at Neil as if he was crazy or had sprouted horns. “I just sang in church, Neil. You heard me then. Besides, my songs are not religious.”
“But they are about love and the ups and downs of being in love. Love is universal, so sing.”
Tiffany could not argue with Neil’s sound reasoning, but she still hedged. “My voice is rusty. Besides, I am nervous.” She tapped her feet rapidly, a sure sign she was telling the truth about feeling apprehensive.
“Nervous?” Neil questioned in surprise. Her humility flabbergasted him. “How can you possibly be nervous when you have sung in front of thousands?”
“It never stopped me from getting the butterflies,” Tiffany told him. Then she asked, “What song do you want to hear?”
“Anything. Sing me a new song. Something to stir the heart.”
Tiffany thought for a moment. Tunes and words started flowing through her head. She cleared her throat and sang a few bars.
Neil clapped his hands in encouragement. His face said, “I’m waiting,” but aloud he urged, “You still got it, girl. You still got it.”
Tiffany’s confidence returned. She sang one of her first hits, which was about being alone even though there were millions around.
Neil closed his eyes and listened to every word. The inferred meaning was powerful, and he got misty-eyed. He could definitely relate to what Tiffany was singing. It was such a shame the world was going to lose such talent.
At the end of her song, Neil dabbed his eyes with his hands before clapping loudly. “Wow, you are absolutely phenomenal,” he praised profusely. “Your song touched my very core. I felt every chord and every note vibrate through my being. You are something real special, Tiffany Knightly.”
“Thank you,” Tiffany breathed, lapping up his much-needed praise. It was doing wonders for her psyche. The old excitement that singing usually evoked stirred within her. She s
tarted humming another tune. Tiffany closed her eyes and sang one that she had never released.
Neil was bowled over from the impact and hugged his ribs. He looked at Tiffany. She sparkled, and her presence wrapped around him and soothed his entire being. “Whoa! You have got to record that song and release it as a single. Tiffany, you simply cannot keep that song to yourself.”
Tiffany basked in his compliment. “I was planning to release it after I beat this cancer, but . . .” Tiffany trailed off. “I don’t have the stamina to record, but do you think I should still sing?”
“Tiffany, you need to sing. You are not dying tomorrow, so while you are still here, you need to sing. I am not suggesting you tour or anything that demanding, but think about doing a couple of local appearances, like diners and churches, you know. Think small scale.”
Tiffany toyed with Neil’s suggestion while she played with the curls in her hair. She admitted the idea held massive appeal. Maybe she would call Winona and ask her to arrange a couple of low-key performances around town. Winona would probably jump at the chance.
“I think I will,” Tiffany declared, making up her mind. “There’s no reason why I still cannot sing. Tonight proved that. I am going to do it.”
“Good,” Neil replied. “Focus on the here and now. God’s got tomorrow all figured out, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Ryan entered his house and went to check his son’s room. “Figures. It would have been too much to ask that he be here for once.” He stomped into his office, plopped into his chair, and sighed.
Exhaustion showed all over his face. Viciously, he undid his tie, frustration evident in every action. What was he to do with that boy? Brian had everything any teen his age would want, but he constantly played the fool. He was about to face possible expulsion from yet another school, and it wasn’t even fazing him one bit. Brian was a gifted artist, but instead of enhancing his God-given talent, he chose to hang out with lowlifes who were about nothing and were going no place.
Ryan had been all the way in Tennessee, and he had to leave a meeting and take an overnight flight because the school principal had called. The principal had said, “I request both you and your wife’s presence here at nine A.M. sharp tomorrow.”
Another hefty donation. Ryan undid his shirt, carelessly tossed it on the floor, and went to get himself a drink. He needed one badly. Holding the glass in his hand, he walked up the stairs to his bedroom to check on his wife.
Patricia was asleep. He looked at her beautiful auburn hair spread across the pillow, in disarray. “I missed you, baby,” he tenderly said. Ryan reached over to plant a kiss on her cheek. He really loved this woman. On his business excursions, there were so many opportunities for him to fool around, but he had never been inclined to do so. Ryan had everything he needed in Patricia. She fulfilled and completed him. Ryan did not need to look elsewhere.
That was why he did not understand what he was doing wrong when it came to his son. He and Patricia never argued in front of him, and they were always openly affectionate with each other.
Patricia stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled when she saw Ryan standing before her. Quickly she sat up to look at him. “Ryan, darling, you’re home.”
Ryan salaciously eyed her sheer one-piece black teddy. The ensemble was obviously his welcome home present, and he was dying to unwrap it. Ryan smiled at his wife and quickly undressed, eager to show her just how much he had missed her.
Patricia saw the hungry expression cross his face. She grinned knowingly and crooked her fingers. “I got something for you.”
Ryan jumped across the bed, causing a huge squeak when he landed. Patricia’s body bounced from the impact, and he shamelessly ogled all the moving parts. He greedily helped himself until he heard Patricia groan. Skipping the foreplay, Ryan apologized and promised, “I’ll make it up to you later.”
Brian entered the house, half expecting to see his father waiting to rip into him. But his dad was already upstairs. “Great. I know what that means.” Immediately disappointed, Brian berated himself for his childish hope. He had purposely stayed out late to rile his father’s temper, and it had all been a wasted effort.
Brian crept up the stairs and placed his ear against his parents’ bedroom door. They were going at it like teenagers. He cut his eyes. His parents behaved like a pair of jackrabbits. “They’ve been married forever and still carry on like that.” He stomped down the stairs and rounded the corner to his room. Now, don’t get it twisted. He was happy that his parents remained committed to each other, and even his friends envied him because of it. “You’re so lucky,” they would say, because most of their parents were either divorced or in their second, even third, marriage. It was no use trying to explain. He often felt like he was not a part of the equation. His parents’ love was for each other. Period. There wasn’t enough left over for him. “It’s just always about them,” he’d say.
Not bothering to turn on the lamp, Brian sat on his king-size bed, not seeing all the gadgets and whatnot that were at his fingertips. He had only one question prominent on his mind. Where did he fit in? It was kind of like being in the Kool-Aid but not knowing the flavor. He tilted his body back to look up at the ceiling but kept his legs planted on the floor.
When his father traveled, sometimes his mother would go. No one thought to invite him to tag along. It was as if he did not exist. They both just forgot about him when they were near each other. He’d done everything he could think of to get their attention—well, mostly his father’s attention. His mother made sure he ate and had clothes to wear. But would his dad spend time with him or take him out to ball games or fishing? No.
He shifted his frame until he was on top of the covers.
He had made sure he got kicked out of every single boarding school—to be home with his parents. Yet they remain dense. “They are such geniuses at their jobs, but they can’t figure out something as simple as this.” He squeezed his eyes. Crying was useless. It was for babies, for girls, not for him. Tell that to his tears.
The next morning Tiffany looked at the clock above the mantel. It was almost 8:00 A.M., and she was fully dressed and ready to go. Eddie had called her early to inform her that the elusive Ryan Oakes was back in town. It was mid-October, and she had finally caught up with him.
Tiffany knew this was her only chance. “I have got to catch him before he leaves for Timbuktu or the south of France.” Ryan Oakes traveled more than she did. He spent months at a time away from home.
At about 9:30 she jumped into her Escalade to drive the short distance to Garden City, where his posh offices were located. Tiffany gathered her courage. “Here goes nothing.” She pulled into an empty parking spot and entered the building. She went up to the receptionist and asked to see Mr. Ryan Oakes.
“Do you have an appointment?” the cute young receptionist asked.
“Ah, no, I don’t,” Tiffany confessed. “I am . . . an old friend, and I just need ten minutes of his time.”
Pointing for her to take a seat, the young woman called Ryan’s office. Tiffany walked over to the waiting area and sat. She was prepared to wait all day to see him. After five minutes, Tiffany heard, “Mr. Oakes will see you now.”
Tiffany stood and followed her to the end of the hall. Through the glass doors, she saw a gorgeous and refined woman, who she knew was Dr. Patricia Oakes, and their son, Brian. She recognized them from the pictures Eddie had sent in the package. Patricia was dressed in a two-piece pastel cream suit and looked like she had stepped out of Vogue magazine. Tiffany saw the curious expression flitter across the woman’s face and quickly introduced herself.
Patricia invited her to take a seat. “I know who you are, Tiffany Knightly. Ryan and I really enjoy your records. Come in. My husband is on a call and will be back shortly.”
Ryan entered the room in an obvious hurry. “Tiffany, how are you?”
“Good morning, Ryan.” Tiffany injected a pleasant
tone in her voice. “I am sorry to barge in on you like this, but I have to speak with you about a very important matter.”
Ryan glanced at his watch. He did not want to be rude, but he was in a hurry. “I have a meeting with Brian’s principal this morning, but something came up, so I had to stop here first. In other words, I am already behind schedule.”
“What I have to say will only take a couple of minutes,” Tiffany assured him. Her tone indicated she was not going to take no for an answer.
Conceding, Ryan quickly sat across from her.
“We’ll wait for you in the waiting area, Ryan,” Patricia stated and beckoned to her son. Brian complied, albeit grudgingly.
Tiffany got right to the point and spilled her words in one breath, “Ryan, years ago we slept together, and as a result of that, you may be the father of my daughter. I would like you to take a paternity test to find out.” Tiffany exhaled and slumped farther into her chair with relief. There. She’d dropped her bombshell at elevator-ride speed.
Ryan looked at her for several seconds. His eyes rapidly blinking were the only signs he’d heard her. Then he spewed, “Are you crazy? Is this about money, Tiffany? Did you squander your fortune?”
Tiffany covered her mouth with her hands to keep from laughing aloud at his questions. She should have known Ryan would think that way. “Ryan, you are clueless. Money is the least of my concerns. Trust me on that.”
“She does not need your money, Dad. You heard that? She got plenty of her own,” Brian spat out. He had reentered the room, unbeknownst to Tiffany and Ryan.
Ryan turned and addressed his son curtly. “This is a private conversation, Brian. Don’t you think you should be worrying about getting kicked out of yet another school?”
Embarrassed, Brian bent his head to hide the flame across his face.
Tiffany felt uncomfortable watching this personal exchange between father and son. She wanted to say something but knew it was not her place.
Sing A New Song Page 12