by Pat Simmons
Nooooooooo. Not his Tay. She wouldn’t do this to me, would she?
Ace was a gambler. He could count on one hand the number of times he lost. He would never have bet that Talise would set him up like this. But she didn’t blink, while she waited for him to say something.
Act normal, be professional and tactful. You aren’t going down like this, man, he coaxed himself.
“How?” Ace shook his head. He knew how. Remain calm. “I mean, you said you think,” Ace struggled for words. “When will you know for sure?”
“I have a doctor’s appointment next Thursday,” she said above a whisper. Her self-assurance seemed nonexistent. Was it possible that she had aged through dinner?
Nodding, Ace reached for his water. Suddenly, he’d broken out in a cold sweat. Thursday was six days away. He would be packed and out of the state of Massachusetts by Tuesday, if not sooner. Tonight, if he could arrange it.
“Ace?”
“Hmm?” He blinked, as she pulled him out of his trance and back into the nightmare.
“How do you feel about that? I mean, I know we didn’t plan this …”
He definitely didn’t.
Ace didn’t hear another word Talise said. He had tuned her out the minute she said two words: I and pregnant. The word might didn’t even matter at that point.
Talise was pretty, smart, and definitely made him smile. But that wasn’t enough for him to propose. Ace hadn’t seen this coming, and he considered himself a seasoned playboy.
All of a sudden, it seemed stuffy in her apartment. He had to get away and quickly told himself to say something. “Okay. You do look a little tired. Why don’t you relax on the sofa? I’ll clean up our mess here and load the dishwasher.”
On the outside, Ace managed a tender smile. He helped her recline, then he removed her shoes. On the inside, he was enraged that Talise thought she could run this game on him. She had already lost. Women and their games.
“Are you upset?” she whispered, as she lay back and allowed him to prop her feet on a pillow.
“I’m shocked is more like it.”
She sighed. “Me too.”
Next, he tackled the cleanup task in record time. He had to get out of there. “Listen, babe, I … I’d better go. Why don’t you get some rest?” he suggested. Nestling her in his arms, he held her the longest time he could without saying a word.
Shocked, betrayed, and hurt were the only way to describe Ace’s emotions. He stalked down the stairs and then used unnecessary force to open the entrance door and his car door.
Ace climbed in as quickly as possible. Without looking up to see if Talise was standing in the bay window, waiting to give him the customary wave sendoff, he sped off.
“You fool!” He was certain he was protected during every encounter. Why hadn’t she protected herself? How had he misjudged Talise’s honesty?
A red light flashed before Ace’s eyes. On autopilot, he stopped and then accelerated when he saw green. Ten minutes or so later, as cars and trucks zoomed by him, he couldn’t remember getting onto the Mass Turnpike.
Thank God for GPS. It was automatically activated when he started the motor. By habit, he had punched home. When he glanced at the screen, he couldn’t believe he was on Hyde Park Avenue and had already passed Jamaica Plain and Roslindale. It was only a matter of blocks before he would reach his condo.
In spite of his dazed state, Ace made it to the complex and pulled into his assigned parking spot. Cursing, he turned off the ignition and pounded the steering wheel before resting his head on its leather exterior.
Ace couldn’t recall one scenario where protection wasn’t used. Immediately, as though a warning signal was sounding loudly, he could hear his mother’s counsel. Throughout his years of mischief, she cautioned him, “Watch how you live, Ace, because whatever you do under the cover of darkness, Jesus will bring to light. Mark my words. There is no protection for sin. Read it for yourself in First Corinthians 4:5.”
As careful as he was, now this. He looked up and stared at the front door of his home. Ace didn’t make a move to get out and sat there gritting his teeth. God help Talise if she was pregnant because that wasn’t reason enough to make him throw his life away.
His mother called him a late bloomer when it came to gaining the common sense that matched his intellect. Up until he secured his present job two years ago, Ace stayed in trouble. He was arrested for petty things like drinking, gambling, and fighting. For the most part, it took Cameron to convince Ace that jail wasn’t the life for a Jamieson. That’s when Ace did an instant one-eighty.
Of course, he didn’t like the feeling of being caged. And that’s exactly what Tay was trying to do, imprison him. Little did she know that it wasn’t going to happen.
Maybe he got his free spirit from his father, Samuel Jamieson. Sam had never married his mother. Yet he and Kidd turned out okay. Well, Kidd did anyway. Ace was still rough around the edges from time to time.
Without a father in the home, he couldn’t emulate one. So, growing up, he lived his life with an attitude of trial and error. But he had enough good sense to know that mind-set didn’t apply to fatherhood. A man was expected to get it right. That’s why he never planned to marry or have children—ever—under any circumstances. It was a trap.
Ace pulled his iPhone from his waist clip and speed-dialed his brother in St. Louis. He tried to clear his head before Kidd answered. They were close, and Kidd didn’t need to see Ace to read him like a book.
Five years older, Kidd had relocated and eventually married a cutie he met at work. Amazingly, after two years, Kidd and Eva were still happy.
“Whatz up, bro?” Kidd greeted.
“Oh, nothing much.” Ace coaxed himself to relax. “Hey, I’m thinking about accepting the opening in the St. Louis office.”
“All right. It’s about time—” Kidd paused. “Wait a minute. What, or who, are you running from? Please tell me someone doesn’t have a mark on your life.” He groaned. “Jesus, I know my prayers aren’t in vain.”
Might as well be truthful. “It’s a woman.”
“Not another one. Ace?” Kidd groaned, hissed, and mumbled. “You mean a woman claiming to carry your lovechild, like Joy, or that Sheba woman?”
“I didn’t need any DNA test to tell you those babies weren’t mine.”
“What do you expect with your lifestyle? Bro, being a father is a privilege and a responsibility.”
“Boy your wife has you brainwashed.”
“What is it going to take for you to stop this bed hopping? There really is a term for your condition, you know.”
Ace exhaled. He knew Kidd’s answer.
“Fornication,” the brothers said together.
“Okay, you can mock me, but you can’t mock God. So the question is, could this baby be yours?”
If—and it is a big if—Talise is pregnant, the baby might be his. But responsibility is optional.
“Only the mother knows for sure.”
Chapter Two
I spooked him.” Talise swallowed as she shielded herself from Ace’s view. His normal goodbye kiss lacked the luster she had come to expect.
Standing near her apartment bay window, her heart sank when Ace sped off from the curb without giving her his customary goodbye. His hasty exit scared her.
Gnawing on her bottom lip, Talise second-guessed her timing. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned her suspicions. If only she had listened to her older sister, Sinclaire, and waited until she was one-hundred percent sure before saying anything.
A week earlier, some mild cramping and light spotting had occurred. Talise didn’t give it a second thought until the nausea hit. She had been enduring repeated bouts for the past few days. Finally, the unsettling experience prompted her to take a home pregnancy test.
If Talise read it right, she wasn’t. But her suspicions lingered. The thought of becoming another statistic as an unwed mother made her bawl like a two-year-old in the middle of a tantrum.
During a Skype call less than twenty-four hours earlier, Sinclaire had tried to console her. “From everything you’ve raved about Aaron …” Her sister refused to refer to Ace by his nickname, saying it sounded too gangster. “… I’m sure he’ll do the right thing. We can always repent, and God will forgive us, as long as we don’t continue in our sins. Even if God doesn’t spare you from this situation, you’ve got to turn your life over to Him.”
A tear slid down her cheek as she recalled their conversation. Stepping away from the window, she rubbed her arms and then massaged her flat tummy. Talise turned around and scanned the apartment she shared with Lois. Her roommate was one of a handful of people she could call “friend” since her move from Virginia to Boston.
After responding to a “roommate needed” ad, Talise met with Lois, studied the South End neighborhood, and quizzed Lois about her lifestyle. Seemingly satisfied, she signed the lease. That had been six months ago.
“A good friend of mine—and Cameron Jamieson is fine—has a cousin named Aaron who is equally as fine and unattached,” Lois had said when trying to set up Talise on a double date. To her description, she then added, “He’s tall and muscular and has a rugged pretty-boy face. Best of all, he’s got a good job.”
At first, Talise was reluctant. “What’s wrong with him? Is he a homosexual?”
Lois had laughed and snorted. “Far from it. He’s a good-looking brother who enjoys having a good time—nothing more.” She paused. “Just go out one time,” she had pleaded. “If he’s a jerk, then dump him.”
Talise wasn’t buying what sounded like a “too good to be true” setup. “If both of these brothers are so fine, then why haven’t you dated either one of them?” She questioned, crossing her arms.
Lois could go toe-to-toe with any woman in the good looks department. She had a touch of Puerto Rican in her blood and a whole lot of African American. The woman turned heads as a browner version of Keysha Cole.
“I learned not to date friends or friends’ relatives. My relationship with Cameron is for networking purposes only. I keep my friend pool separate from my potential boyfriend pool. Separate and not equal.” Lois’s voice had been serious.
A few evenings later, during an event at Northeastern University Cameron and Lois introduced her to Ace. Then they disappeared, leaving Talise and Ace on their own. One night turned into many nights together, phone calls, and now, possibly permanent evidence of those numerous dates.
Ace’s personality had magnetism and his presence gave her a sense of completeness in her life. God help her that she would admit it, but Ace had become like the air she breathed. With his early departure, it would mark the first Friday they weren’t together until the wee morning hours. The void was almost unbearable.
Alone with her thoughts, she blew out the candles and incense sticks. Talise retook her seat at the counter and closed her eyes. What would her father and his new wife say? Or her coworkers and friends think? She hadn’t lived in Boston a year and had already made bad choices.
Imagining the rumors made her sigh deeply. Talise Shanté Rogers, age twenty-nine, pregnant, unmarried—and a fool. What was she thinking?
Of course, Ace would want to marry her. But what if he didn’t? If he didn’t love her, then marriage was not an option, even for the sake of their child. They would share joint custody and live separate lives. That wasn’t negotiable.
Aside from being devastated by his rejection, financially, she could probably manage as a single parent. She had her salary as an airline ticket agent and the extra money she earned as a part-time stylist at a trendy salon in Cambridge. Plus, there would be whatever child support Ace agreed to pay. One thing was for sure, she would not be part of any baby drama.
But he loved her. Right? She could see it in his eyes, in his smile, and in the way he kissed her. She no longer wanted to think about any other instances.
Talise stood and picked up her shoes near the sofa. “Why am I torturing myself? A little nausea and a light period don’t mean I’m pregnant.” The argument sounded good, but Talise just didn’t believe a word of it. Tomorrow, she would buy another home pregnancy test.
Sauntering into her bedroom, she tossed her stilettos into the closet. Next, she peeled off her “man teaser” dress. That’s what Lois had called the outfit when Talise bought it. After donning a pair of flannel pajamas, she lifted her laptop off a small desk in the corner and climbed into bed.
While she waited for it to boot up, Talise longed for her mother’s advice and comfort. But Marilyn, who was only forty-seven at the time, had passed away years earlier from a heart attack. Her father, Frederick, remarried soon after. The new Mrs. Rogers—Donna—was nice, but detached. Her focus was on her husband, leaving very little attention for his daughters. She believed if a person was eighteen, they were grown and should be gone.
Donna had an uncanny way of always making Talise and Sinclaire feel like they were lacking in some area of their lives: looks, education, etiquette, or whatever the topic of the hour. It somehow seemed to slip Donna’s mind that they were the products of private education and both were college graduates as well. In fact, the Rogers family was even part of a few elite organizations, such as Jack and Jill. As toddlers, the two sisters had even modeled in fashion shows, print ads, and TV commercials. Yet Donna insisted on overlooking their redeeming qualities.
Not only were Sinclaire and Talise extremely close, they were best friends. With very similar features, their personalities were completely opposite. Two years older, Sinclaire always portrayed maturity as an example for her younger sister. Talise couldn’t recall when Sinclaire wasn’t grounded in her faith. She consistently prayed before making life-altering choices and thanked God for His wisdom afterward. Daddy affectionately dubbed her “the family prayer warrior.”
On the other hand, even without consulting Jesus regularly, Talise was loyal to her convictions. It was natural for her to treat others the way she would want to be treated. She trusted people at face value, at times, to a fault.
The Rogers sisters loved to travel. Because they were military brats who moved quite often whenever their father was reassigned, it was in their blood. During their childhood years, the girls also enjoyed when the family took lengthy summer vacations at their beach house in Destin, Florida.
As an adult, Sinclaire further fed her hunger to see the world when she joined the air force. Currently, she was serving her country in the Middle East.
In her own way, Talise was following in their father’s footsteps too. However, she wasn’t about to put herself in harm’s way. In her mother’s absence, Talise felt there was no reason for her to remain in Richmond, Virginia. Consequently, upon graduating from Hampton University, she had packed up and moved from Virginia to Texas. There she took her first job out of college with a Fortune 500 business consulting firm that required extensive travel.
Three years later, Talise concluded there was nothing glamorous about business travel. It was time to make a career move. When Southwest Airlines posted various vacancies, Sinclaire credited God for Talise beating out the competition. There were only a handful of openings for ticket agent positions. But she landed one and the perks that go along with it. Bags weren’t the only thing that could fly free.
Talise took advantage of the travel perks, which were not mandatory. She mapped out an adventure to live in different cities for a period of time. That way she could get a feel for where she wanted to settle down. So far, she had lived in San Francisco on the West Coast and Boston on the East Coast. On her next tour, she planned to move to the Midwest, maybe Chicago.
That was, until she met Ace. Funny how a man could make a woman change her plans. Talise logged on to her email and typed Sinclair a note. Her sister was the only other person who knew about her suspicion.
In the subject line, Talise typed: No I told you so.
I couldn’t keep it in. I know. I know. I should have waited, but what difference would it have made? Ace
and I care about each other. I would venture to say we’re in love, but his reaction was worse than sticker shock. It was a mixture of fear, disbelief, anger, and disappointment. Since your name means prayer, I could use some right now. Email me when you can. Love T.
Talise didn’t expect a quick response. In the meantime, she visited pregnancy sites to further torture herself. Almost an hour later, she logged back onto her email account. Sinclaire had replied: Re: No I told you so. I wouldn’t.
With him or without him, pregnant or not, everything is going to be okay. We’ll Skype soon, and p.s., I’ve never stopped praying for my sister. You’re the only one I’ve got. Hopefully, Donna is beyond childbearing years. LOL. Love, S.
Talise smiled at Sinclaire’s dig on Donna. Which situation would be worse, Donna pregnant at fifty-two with a husband, or her pregnancy at twenty-nine with no husband? It would be a draw.
Shutting her computer down and putting it aside, Talise picked up her cell phone and called Ace. She got his voicemail and left a message, “Call me.”
As fear crept into her mind, she slid onto the floor and prayed longer than her usual few sentences. “Jesus, please don’t let me be pregnant, please. I promise I won’t sleep with Ace again—or any man—unless he’s my husband. God, this would ruin my life. I’m not prepared for this …” She continued to list all the reasons why the timing was all wrong. Once she said, “Amen,” Talise climbed back into bed and prayed again. This time that she would be able to sleep.
Saturday morning, Talise woke without a phone call from Ace. It was their routine to talk while she dressed to go to the salon. Either she was still having a nightmare or Ace was sending a strong signal that he was unreachable, indefinitely.
Her imagination and guilt was really working overtime. Since she and Ace had never had a major disagreement, this was a test of how they handled difficult situations. She guessed he needed solitude. There was no way Ace was the type of man to desert her—period.
Talise didn’t know how she was going to make it five more days until her doctor’s appointment. Mentally and physically, she was a wreck. Knowing this particular Saturday there was a light customer load, she called Sasha, the owner of Sassy’s Salon.