“That’s what Kamora said.”
“I always liked that girl.”
“No, you didn’t. You said she was the fastest ten-year-old you’d ever met. And you were only eight.”
“Well, we’re not talking about Kamora. We’re talking about what both she and I know. And that’s that you can’t expose your child to a spirit. And why would you want to? Quentin doesn’t deserve to see Tori or Chris.”
“How can you say that when he’s their father?”
“Oh, please. He’s more of a coward than a father. Leaving you and the children to live with some man. He’s going straight to hell.”
Sheridan sighed. “Quentin said he was born this way.”
“I am so tired of that gay propaganda. That’s just an excuse not to call a sin a sin. That’s the biggest problem with all of this, Sheridan. Listen to me. Quentin is living in sin, but he doesn’t call it a sin because he was born that way. I’m telling you, it’s just sick justification.” He made a sound that Sheridan knew was pure disgust. “These people have managed to turn a sin into an entire political agenda.”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“Believe the Word of God. The Bible tells you where God stands.” He released a loud stream of air. “Every time I think of this, I want to come down to Los Angeles and kick Quentin’s a—Well, praise the Lord anyway.”
Her brother’s rampage didn’t amuse her. Sheridan said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“You always do that when you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say, but I’m telling you, Sheridan, this is going to be one of the biggest decisions of your life. Your children are your responsibility.”
“But he’s—”
“And don’t repeat that nonsense about him being their father. A real father would have kept his butt with his wife and his children. He ain’t no kind of father. I’m telling you, Sheridan…”
Sheridan was sure he was still talking when she clicked the end button. She sighed. In one corner sat Kamora and her brother, steadfast in their belief that what Quentin was doing was wrong.
And then there was her mother. Much less stringent. Much more forgiving.
What am I supposed to do?
She wished she had someone to turn to—someone who would know exactly what to do. She was still shaking her head when she turned off the 405 and headed toward home.
Sheridan held her breath as if not breathing would stop the question from being asked again.
“Mom, did you hear me?” Tori asked, as she dipped her finger in the spaghetti sauce and scooped. “Did you talk to Dad about this weekend?”
Sheridan slapped Tori’s hand away from the pan. “Stop that, honey. That’s unsanitary.”
“Okay,” she said as she eyed the sauce. “But did you talk to Dad?”
It was the third time she had asked the question, and the way Tori stood, Sheridan knew her daughter wasn’t going to go away. “I haven’t had a chance to finalize anything.”
“Okay.” Tori grabbed her backpack and bolted up the stairs. “You can talk to him tonight. I’m so excited; Dad said he was going to make pancakes on Saturday” were the last words Sheridan heard before Tori scurried into her bedroom.
Those few words satisfied Tori, but Sheridan knew that wouldn’t last. Tonight, tomorrow, or the next day it would come up…again and again. Until Tori and Quentin had the answer they wanted.
Why does he want her over there?
When she thought about over there, an avalanche of images flooded her again—of two men, touching, caressing, kissing, loving. She squeezed her eyes, pleased that the pressure helped to erase her mind’s stalker’s pictures.
She opened her eyes to clarity. No way. Tori could not go into Jett’s home.
She’d expected relief. But none came. Tori would be disappointed, but what she feared was Quentin’s reaction. She tried to imagine what he would say, what he would do, and it all scared her.
Hours later, after she’d fed her children, checked their homework, and then climbed into her own bed, she still hadn’t found any words that would placate Quentin. And as she fell asleep, she realized there were no words in the English language that would make him understand. She knew for sure that a battle was about to begin and she prayed that at the end they would all be standing.
Chapter Twenty-one
The week passed as if life were normal.
Every morning, Christopher and Tori departed for school. Every afternoon, they returned to homework and dinner. Every night, Quentin called. Every time, Sheridan discovered new ways to avoid him.
On Tuesday night she’d run the water from her shower at full blast, and sat on the edge of the tub, pretending not to hear Tori shout, “Mom, Dad’s on the phone. He wants to speak to you about this weekend.”
On Wednesday she’d held a turned-off cell phone to her ear, pretending to be in the middle of a call. “I can’t talk to him,” she whispered to Tori, covering the mouthpiece as if someone were really on the line. “I’m talking to an important client for Hart to Heart.”
And then last night, when she’d run out of indoor antics, she’d driven two blocks from her home, parked in front of the community center, and sat until she was sure Quentin and Tori’s nightly ritual was over.
But today was the day she’d have to come out of hiding. According to Tori’s breakfast chatter, the plans were set: Quentin would be picking her up this evening for a fabulous weekend in Encino.
“Do you know what this ten-inch stretch chili dog reminds me of?” Kamora asked, as she stuffed one end of the hot dog into her mouth.
Sheridan shook her head as she swallowed a bite of her Guadalajara hot dog. Kamora’s call this morning, after Tori had skipped to the school van, had been the perfect antidote to the anxiety that was building inside her.
“Did you hear me?” Kamora asked, rescuing Sheridan from the thoughts of the argument that was sure to follow her declaration to Quentin.
“I heard you, but I don’t know what it reminds you of,” Sheridan said, her mouth full.
“It reminds me of Clark.”
Sheridan frowned. “Who’s Clark?”
Kamora licked her lips and smiled. “He’s the new guy I’m seeing.”
“What happened to…” Sheridan pressed her finger to her forehead as if that would help her remember. “What happened to Jackson?”
Kamora waved her hand as if she were swatting a fly. “History. That man got on my nerves. Too young. He was only thirty, you know.”
“But you were ready to turn over your company to him.”
“Well, thank God I didn’t. And anyway,” Kamora said, lifting the hot dog to her lips again, “changing her mind is a woman’s prerogative. And so my prerogative is Clark.”
Sheridan tightened her cape against the breeze that swept across the patio. This morning the weather had been walking-on-the-beach beautiful. But in just hours the spring-heat days of January had metamorphosed into storm watch 2004.
“Sometimes I worry about you, Kamora,” Sheridan said finally.
Kamora frowned. “Why?”
“Because I wonder what you’re looking for. It seems like you’re trying to find something in all of these guys.”
“Don’t overanalyze it, Sheridan. I’ve told you before. I’m just a black woman trying to make it in a white man’s world. I work hard. That means everything I do, I’m going to do it…hard.”
When Sheridan’s cell phone rang, Kamora motioned for her to pick it up, but she shook her head. “No, whoever it is will leave a message.”
Kamora frowned. “Suppose it’s Christopher or Tori?”
Sheridan didn’t have to look at the screen to know who was calling. She breathed, relieved when her phone stopped buzzing. But when it rang again, Sheridan knew what she had to do.
“Sheridan, I’ve been trying to reach you,” Quentin said when she answered.
“I’m sorry. I’ve had quite a busy week.”
&n
bsp; “Well, now that I have you, I’ll be picking Tori up about seven tonight.”
“Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Quentin.” She glanced at Kamora, who had pushed her half-filled plate aside. Her eyes were pasted to Sheridan’s lips. “Tori won’t be going with you…this weekend.”
“What happened? Is she sick?”
“No. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She imagined his expression—the way his forehead creased and his eyebrows rose when he was confused. “What’s not a good idea?”
She took a deep breath and then spoke the words as if they were all connected. “I don’t think Tori should spend the weekend with you. I have to give it some more thought.”
“What’s there to think about? I’m coming to pick up Tori tonight.”
“Quentin, please don’t make this more difficult. I have custody. You left the children with me.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re punishing me, using Tori?”
“No.”
“I never thought you’d go this low, Sheridan. You can’t keep my children away from me.”
“I’m not saying that. You can see Tori. You can take her to lunch or to the movies like you’ve been doing. But I want to think some more about her spending the weekend with you.”
“That’s right,” Kamora whispered as she moved to the edge of her seat and popped a french fry into her mouth.
“Sheridan,” Quentin said, while Kamora was still urging her on, “I will take any action I have to, to make sure I see Tori and Christopher any time I want.”
His words surprised her. “Are you threatening me?”
“Call it whatever you want. But I’m not going to let you do this. I plan on being as much of a father to Chris and Tori now as I was before.” He hung up before she could say another word.
In their years of marriage, there had never been a moment when Sheridan believed Quentin was capable of rage—until now. His tone made her quake with fear. All I want to do is think about this some more.
“That was great, girl.” Kamora spoke with such cheer Sheridan thought she was going to stand and applaud. “You told him. He should have known better than to fight with you.”
Sheridan looked at the phone. Remembered Quentin’s words. Recalled his tone. “I’m not trying to fight. I just want to give this some more thought. I’m not sure Tori should spend the night over there.”
Kamora tossed her napkin onto her plate as if the thought ruined her appetite. “Is that what he’s asking? I cannot believe that man.” She paused. “He’s lucky you let him see Tori anywhere. If he was my husband, he wouldn’t get the chance to even see our dogs.”
“You’re not married and you don’t have any dogs.”
Kamora continued as if she hadn’t heard Sheridan. “You can’t let Tori go over there and get all mixed up in that stuff.”
“You’re not going to start that again. Like he has some disease that Tori can catch.”
“I’m just sayin’, you don’t want your child around that gay spirit. It’s very serious because it’s more than a sin. Homosexuality is the only sin God calls an abomination.”
Sheridan shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“It is true; just look in the Bible.”
“No, you look in the Bible. Look in Proverbs and see how many sins God calls an abomination, including lying.”
Kamora twisted her lips, as if she doubted Sheridan’s words.
“But you’re not the first person I’ve heard say that. It amazes me the way people use the Bible against other people, but they never look at what they’re doing themselves.”
Kamora stared as if she were trying to figure out if Sheridan was talking about her. “I’m just sayin’ that I know God hates the homosexual.”
“And I don’t believe that’s true either. I know he hates homosexuality, but he hates fornication too.” She paused and returned Kamora’s stare. “Does that mean God hates the fornicator?”
Kamora leaned away from Sheridan. “If you’re talking about me, what I do is not the same as what Quentin’s doing. It’s not even close.”
“Why not? Isn’t a sin a sin?”
“Yeah, but fornication is not the same thing. Times have changed, Sheridan, and I think God understands that.”
“Quentin could say the same thing, that times have changed. But don’t you think God knew 2004 was going to come? And that men were going to want to be with men? And women were going to want to be with women? And everyone was going to want to have sex outside of marriage? And I’m not leaving myself out of it. I’ve been lying all week to Tori and Quentin. All of it, every bit of what each one of us is doing is a sin.”
Kamora was quiet for a moment. “I’m just sayin’ I don’t know of any other sin in the Bible where God made His position so clear.”
“What do you mean?”
“God destroyed an entire city because of homosexuals and their arrogance.” When Sheridan said nothing, Kamora continued, “How could you even consider sending your child into Sodom or Gomorrah? No responsible mother would do anything like that.” With her words Kamora tossed a twenty onto the table and stood. “Don’t worry about your part. This one’s on me. The food and the advice.” She stood and turned away, but then a moment later she swiveled back to face Sheridan. “And for the record, I know God is probably not happy with the way I lead every part of my life. But this is a hard walk, and God knows my heart. He knows I want to do right. He also knows I’m only human, but I guess that’s hard for you to understand since you’re so perfect.”
This time when she turned, Kamora marched away from the table and never looked back to see Sheridan sitting there with shock on her face and sadness in her eyes.
The sun that greeted Sheridan this morning was now covered by gauzelike clouds that blocked the warm rays from reaching the city. But even though the day’s light kept fading, Sheridan wasn’t ready to go home. She needed to clear her head of the words from her brother and best friend.
“He may be their father, but he’s a coward. He’s going straight to hell.” And Kamora’s words of warning were not much different.
“How could you even consider sending your child into Sodom or Gomorrah?”
Sheridan turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway and whizzed the SUV past the oceanside communities. She’d been sure she shouldn’t let Tori stay with Quentin. But when she listened to her brother and Kamora, she almost found herself on Quentin’s side.
What is the right thing?
She asked the question over and over until the first signs of drizzle splattered against her windshield. She turned around and sped back toward home. It was a torrential rain that greeted her as she drove further inland, and by the time she turned into her community, streets were already showing signs of flooding.
She eased around the curve of her cul-de-sac, and slowed as she noticed a Jaguar sports coupe in her driveway. She frowned, not recognizing the green vehicle. She edged her SUV next to the car and stared as she finally recognized the man in the driver’s seat—Jett Jennings smiled slightly and waved.
I cannot believe he has the audacity…
Her heart pounded as she grabbed her purse and jumped from the Explorer. She stomped past the car, not caring about the way the rain pelted her slacks and matching cape. She was at her front door when she heard his footsteps behind her.
“Sheridan.”
She swung toward him. Even with the rain hammering him, Jett still looked like a model in all black—jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. His short, curly hair was plastered to his head by the rain.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I want to talk to you.”
She said nothing.
“We’re getting drenched. Can we go inside?”
Her clothes were already soaked, and she was sure her leather backpack would never look the same. But she would rather die in the rain. “Like I would ever let you step foot inside my home again.”
He looked surprised and tried to stuff his hands deep into his pockets. He had difficulty keeping his eyes open as the raindrops struck his lids, making it difficult for him to see.
The rain pelted Sheridan like rapid fire, but she stood with her arms crossed, waiting.
“Sheridan, I’m not here to make trouble. I just want to talk to you.”
It was only curiosity that made her say, “Speak your piece and be on your way.”
He turned, glancing at the homes around him, and he shivered. It was the cold that made him do that. The cold in the air. The cold in her eyes.
“I don’t want to have this conversation out here. Your neighbors,” he whispered.
He was right. She was sure Mrs. James was behind her heavy drapes, peeking, wondering what kind of craziness was going on in the Harts’ household now. But not even Mrs. James mattered. “What about my neighbors, Jett? Should I be concerned because they may see us and wonder what we’re talking about? Or maybe they already know; should I be concerned about my pride?”
He said nothing.
“I don’t have any pride left, Jett. It left with my husband. I think you can find my pride and my husband at your house.”
“This is not what I want. I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“Too late.”
He blinked at her words. “I always thought you were my friend. I’d hoped we could stay that way.”
“You’re kidding, right? You want to talk about friendship with me?”
“I understand you’re upset right now.”
As she wiped water from her face, she wanted to tell him he didn’t understand anything. He couldn’t if he’d actually appeared on her doorstep unarmed. “What do you want, Jett?”
“I want you to let Tori spend the weekend with Quentin and me.”
She laughed and looked at her watch; raindrops blurred the crystal. “I just told Quentin an hour ago, and he already has you here fighting his battle?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then you really need to take your…behind off my property.” She turned and twisted the key in the lock.
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