THE GREAT PRETENDER

by Millenia Black

  Thelma was Reginald’s only sister and three years his senior. They were extremely close, and she and Olivia both knew that Thelma wouldn’t waste a millisecond in phoning Reginald with a suspicion.

  “Anyway, Mom, back to me. When can we get this done?”

  Tracy pushed her own woes aside and focused once again on Olivia. Her eldest daughter. Their firstborn. Their pride and joy. Oh, what a happy time it had been when she was born! And now Olivia was pregnant with her own baby. Unfortunately, the timing—and the father—just weren’t right. Tracy grieved. “Call Dr. Gabriel first thing on Monday and set up a morning appointment. We’ll have to do it one morning when your father’s at work and Valerie’s in school.”

  “Okay.” Olivia hesitated. “And what about you and Uncle Frank? You know, with Daddy being home and all? I’m sure you’ve been worrying about that a lot…”

  Tracy expelled a long breath and ran a hand through her hair. “Olivia, have you ever thought about your father and me splitting up?”

  “Splitting up? You mean divorce? Is it that serious with Uncle Frank, Mom?”

  “I think so. I mean, there’s still a lot to sort out before it comes to that, but the truth is that things just aren’t the same with your father and me anymore. I won’t go into details, but things have really changed for me in the last few years…And for him, too, I think.” Tracy remembered the strange tone of Reggie’s voice last night, though she wasn’t prepared to share that with Olivia, knowing how she felt about him already.

  “Well, you know what I think. God would have to come down from the sky to tell me that Daddy doesn’t leave a pack of heartsick women in Orlando when he comes home to work. Well, he must,” she added quickly, when Tracy tried to interrupt. “Half my friends want to date my dad—women go gaga over him. I’m sure he’s not beating them all off with his wedding ring.”

  “Listen, true or not, that’s not for you to be concerned with—you’re getting to be just as bad as Valerie.” Tracy rose and snapped off the television set. “Things happen, Olivia, and we may not always make the right choices, but we are still your parents, and both you and Valerie better not ever forget it.”

  Olivia fell silent.

  “Go up and wake Valerie, and let’s go out for breakfast. I’m starving, and I know you are, too.” Tracy stepped toward the stairway. “We’ll get dressed and go have brunch at Brixel’s. Then we can stop for groceries.” Pausing at the door, she turned back to Olivia. Softening her tone, she said, “And honey, I know it’s hard, but try not to worry about this thing.” She cupped Olivia’s jaw. “It’ll be fine. Just call on Monday, and we’ll take care of it. It’ll all work out for the best.” She hugged her close. “And like I said, get wise about Sean.”

  Tracy released her slowly, and left the kitchen.

  Chapter 12

  After checking his e-mail, Franklin signed off the computer and took the last sip of his black coffee. He’d been irritable all morning, so he hadn’t bothered to visit the gym as he normally did on Saturday afternoons. Instead, he stayed home with his thoughts.

  I’ve been doing that a lot lately, he thought matter-of-factly. He grabbed his mug and left the spare bedroom, which served as his work-at-home office.

  His thoughts were full of Tracy. Her talk of ending their affair had really sobered him. He had always fancied the notion that she was smitten with him and couldn’t get enough, despite her fronts to suggest it was purely physical. Perhaps she really was cavalier about their affair. Maybe in reality, he was no more than a stand-in for Reginald’s absence in her bed!

  •

  Ten minutes later, as he laced his Reeboks, Franklin felt his temper brewing. He didn’t like these thoughts he was having. He didn’t like them at all. Was she serious about calling it quits? What if she really meant it, and it was all over?

  The frustration mounted.

  I sure as hell can’t slip quietly back into the role of supportive friend, he thought, leaving his apartment, just casually watching them live happily ever after.

  Downstairs, he climbed into his SUV. Since its servicing was long overdue, he decided to take it to the dealership. Then he’d head over to see Tracy. They needed to talk more about this whole thing. If he could only see her face-to-face, get her alone.

  He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. It should end when he decided it was time—and not a moment sooner.

  •

  The Brixel’s on Miami Lakes Drive was packed. With its airy, pastel décor and excellent cuisine, it was their favorite place to have breakfast. The walls were pinstriped in lime green and beige wallpaper, and throughout the restaurant there were heaps of hanging greenery and standing plants. The pleasant setting, coupled with the trademark cuisine, was more than likely what kept the customers out of the Waffle House down the street.

  After dropping the car off with the valet, Tracy, Olivia, and Valerie entered Brixel’s, hoping for a good table. They were disappointed when the hostess seated them in a booth near the buffet carousel. Hordes of hungry patrons, incessantly spouting mindless chatter, shuffled past them. The restaurant was abuzz with chatter, so to be heard, they spoke with slightly raised voices.

  Over a breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttery pancakes, and despite the restaurant’s Saturday morning noise, Olivia managed to hear the soft chimes of her cell phone.

  “That’d be Sean,” Valerie announced, salting her hash browns.

  Olivia’s heart dripped with relief. It flowed from her mouth on a sigh, but she said nothing. It had been a long, abysmal night not hearing from him. She took the phone from her purse to verify that the call was indeed from Sean. It was. Her chest rose and fell on another tidal wave of relief.

  “Don’t dare call him, Liv,” Valerie advised around a mouthful of hash browns. “Just forget him.”

  Tracy noticed the relief that crossed her daughter’s face as the phone chimed. Poor Olivia. She sensed what was ahead; she had a premonition that they had not seen or heard the last of Mr. Sean Johnson.

  Over the next ten minutes, while they were engrossed in animated chatter, Olivia received several more calls. Tracy saw her resolve to stay angry slipping away with every chime.

  Olivia reached for the carafe, refilling her orange juice. Sean was trying to get in touch with her, no doubt wanting to explain, to apologize. She found herself suddenly eager to talk to him, to hear his explanation. If he didn’t care, she thought, swallowing orange juice, he wouldn’t even bother. She felt better now—much better. He was calling. He was calling. She wanted to fly.

  Fingering her coffee cup, Tracy decided it was time to raise the subject of their father. “Your dad says he wants to take a vacation soon. You girls know where you’d want to go?” Eyeing Olivia carefully, she brought the mug to her lips.

  Olivia groaned as she chewed the last bite of her sausage link. “I already told Daddy I have to pass on the vacation—too much schoolwork. You should know that, Mom.” Olivia wiped her mouth with a napkin and sat back in the booth, folding her arms. “You guys can go ahead, and I hope you have a great time. But I’ll pass.”

  Valerie drank the last of her orange juice and, obviously annoyed, reached to pour more from the carafe. “You know, you really tick me off when you talk like that, as if you’re some sort of outsider and you only look down at the rest of us from the bridge of your snooty little nose. You need to cut it out, Liv. You politely act like you’re not part of this family sometimes, and it’s really starting to make me sick.”

  “Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m not so good with charades. I don’t just sit around waiting for the man of the house to put in an appearance. If I’m busy, I’m busy. You guys will just have to launch the perfect family show without me.” Olivia paused, biting on her cheek. “I’ll tell you what’s starting to make me sick…Having you jump down my throat whenever Dad’s brought up. That’s what’s starting to make me sick,” she shot back.

  “Okay, I’ve heard enough,” said Valerie, slamming th
e carafe back on the table. “What’s your real problem? Daddy’s always gone out of his way to coddle you, but you never give him lunch, Olivia! What’s wrong with you?” After a pause, Valerie added, “You act like he’s some stranger off the street that you can’t stand to see! It’s like he’s not even your father!” Her voice had raised a few decibels.

  Five Hispanics at a nearby table peeked at them curiously.

  “You know, come to think of it, that really isn’t all that far from reality, is it?” said Olivia matter-of-factly. “After all, in the last ten years, I’m lucky if I’ve seen him for all of ten minutes. Who is he, really? The tall man who pays all the bills, buys all the clothes, and strides in and out of the house the whole two weeks that he’s home. You can pretend you grew up with a father if you want to, Valerie, but leave me out of it. If he really cared anything about us he would’ve raised us!” She clenched her teeth. “He would’ve been here when we were sick, he would’ve been at all our softball games, and he would’ve showed up for our school plays. I don’t know if you remember him being at any of yours, but I only saw Mom or Uncle Frank at mine.”

  “But you’re making it sound like he’s been neglecting us or something! Like we’ve never had a father that supported us. Like he wasn’t out there workin’ his butt off to keep us living like queens—like queens!” Valerie’s eyes were blazing. “All I want to know is how long you’re gonna hold this petty grudge against him? How long do you think you can avoid him?” She turned to Tracy. “Mom, don’t you think she acts like she doesn’t even want him in the house sometimes?”

  Total disbelief on her face, Tracy just stared at them. “Is this what it’s going to be like when Reginald comes home?” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, boy.”

  Olivia had had enough. She couldn’t listen to Valerie defend their here today, but gone tomorrow father any longer. She raised the palm of her hand toward Valerie’s face. “I’ve heard enough. I’ve said enough. This conversation is over.”

  Valerie swatted Olivia’s hand to the side. “Oh, no you don’t!” Not nearly finished, she seemed oblivious to the nosy group drinking in every word from their table. “You really make me sick about this! You’re never home half the time either, Olivia! And you don’t cut him any slack when he is home. All you do is talk about him like he’s a fifth cousin twice removed—like he’s neither here nor there! And the guy you should be talking like that about gets all the love and attention! How come you don’t condemn Sean the way you do Daddy, huh? How come he gets forgiveness for the stunts he pulls, but Daddy serves a life sentence for going off to work? Explain that one!”

  “Valerie, you better shut the…you better shut up!” Olivia threatened through clenched teeth. She swallowed the expletive since their mother was present.

  “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, Olivia? Sean is a saint, while Daddy’s little more than a stranger! But who’s the real stranger? The one who’s out working to feed you and keep a roof over your head, or the one who’s out humpin’ Jackie Henderson—and God knows who else—and could maybe even give you AIDS? I bet—”

  “Valerie, that’s enough!” Tracy stage-whispered. “Am I the only one of the three of us who’s aware we have an audience?” She leaned closer. “This is disgraceful, you two. It has to stop.”

  “No, Mom, let her talk. She’s the woman of the house now, after all, isn’t she? Hell, she’s sure acting like it. Seventeen years old, and she puts a tail on her own mother!”

  Suddenly, as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown at her, Valerie’s frustrated rage died. She fell back against the soft cushioning of the booth, as if shoved.

  “Yes. I found out all about that, Miss Valerie Brooks. And make no mistake, your father’s gonna get an earful first thing when he returns—you can take that to the bank. It’s high time you were cut back down to size. We’ll talk about it—in detail—when he gets home.”

  Valerie glanced at her sister. Filled with a dreadful foreboding, she was close to wetting her pants. There would be hell to pay now. Pure hell. She would have to call Debbie…And soon.

  Olivia glanced around, and still seething from Valerie’s hurtful tirade, noticed their audience for the first time. She was amazed that they had managed to draw such attention in the already noisy and crowded restaurant. She gave them a dirty look, and all five pairs of eyes averted, as though they hadn’t heard a thing, suddenly becoming most intrigued by their steaming breakfast plates and shiny silverware.

  “Okay, now listen to me, both of you,” Tracy began quietly. She leaned even closer to the table. “This has got to stop, and the two of you have got to find a way to resolve this war about Reginald. He is your father and he wants to make up for lost time, so the last thing we should do is give him grief about it, okay?

  “His heart’s in the right place, girls. True, Orlando has kept him away a lot of the years, but it was only because of his ambitions to make sure we were all well provided for. And he’s done an excellent job of that, hasn’t he? Look at the restaurant we’re eating in.” She extended her arms, indicating the table. “None of us can complain that we’ve ever been in need of anything. Whether it was food, clothes, shelter, entertainment, or anything else. We’ve had it all; we’ve needed nothing.”

  The table fell silent.

  Finally, Olivia said, “We’ve needed nothing, huh?” She glanced left, out the large window, overwhelmed. “Nothing…except him.”

  Her words set in—intensely. The sky was overcast, and murky clouds seemed to be itching to release a torrent of rain.

  No one said a word.

  They each knew the truth. The long-ignored truth. All the table’s passion and energy had been reduced to three words.

  A smiling waitress appeared then, her smile so bright and cheerful it cracked their table’s cocoon like a rock. “More coffee, ma’am?” she offered Tracy, poised to pour the steaming liquid.

  Tracy cleared the lump from her throat. “Um, no, thank you. We’re fine.” She reached into her leather purse for cash, eager to leave the crowded restaurant. “We’ll have the check now.”

  They waited quietly, in emotional ambiguity, for the waitress to return with the change.

  When they left Brixel’s, it was in a cloud of silence as deafening as the boisterous chatter within.

  •

  Sean resisted the urge to crank his engine and head back home. Maybe Jackie was still in his bed…

  The middle-aged couple next door had just returned from wherever they had gone, and he was still sitting there feeling like an idiot. He’d been there when they’d left more than two hours before.

  He was parked alongside the lawn in the circular driveway of the Brooks’ illustrious home in Miami Lakes. Having listened to an entire CD, he was growing restless and cramped in his car. He was also feeling ill at ease, as he always did, in Olivia’s wealthy surroundings. Oddly enough, though, this was also the reason he kept her close. She was a special girl, far different from Jackie—and far more valuable, he acknowledged.

  Catching himself snoring, he jumped up just in time to see Tracy Brooks’ Cherokee entering the garage. It had also begun raining again.

  He climbed out of the car, slammed the door, and then sprinted up the long driveway, hurrying to take shelter before they closed the garage.

  The first person to acknowledge his presence, to his surprise, was Tracy. She shut the door of the Jeep and walked toward the open garage door where he stood. Her eyes dared him to come any closer. The rain was coming down in light sheets, blowing into the garage and wetting him, but he didn’t move any closer.

  Tracy stared at Sean. Look at him, she thought. Olivia can do a thousand times better than this—there’s no way in hell she’s gonna have this creep’s baby. “I want you to listen to me, Sean, and I want you to listen with both ears.” She spoke slowly, careful not to raise her voice. “You are no longer welcome in this house or on this property. Liv doesn’t care to see you right now…Neither do the rest of us. Af
ter what—”

  “But, Mrs. Brooks.” Sean raised his hands. “It’s all just a big misunderstanding, and I can clear it up if she’ll just listen to me!” By the look on his face, Tracy knew that he was definitely full of shit. He was a horrible liar.

  Olivia, leaving the Jeep, headed for the doorway that led into the house without even bothering to glance at Sean. Reaching the door, she slung over her shoulder, “You heard my mother, Sean. Go away. It’s over…And don’t bother coming back.” She let the door slam behind her, completing the act. Valerie followed suit, clearly preoccupied, without a word of greeting to Sean, whom she’d always been fond of.

  Sean’s shoulders slumped and he shifted weight, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, come on, what’s all that for? Did she really say ‘don’t ever come back’? She doesn’t mean that. She’s just upset. I’ll be back.”

  “You heard her, Sean,” said Tracy, turning away from him. “Leave. Go find someone else’s daughter to toy with.” She placed a finger on the garage door button, ready to press it. She looked right at him. “My garage is getting wet.”

  Undeterred, Sean shrugged and sprinted back to his Skylark, only to find that he had left the windows down.

  •

  From her arched bedroom window upstairs, Olivia watched Sean drive away, muttering and cursing in his water-soaked car. After slamming the door on him downstairs, she had hurried up to her room, wanting to ride out the assault of conflicting emotions before anyone noticed. She had an overwhelming urge to call him, make him fill her head with apologies, but she suppressed it quickly. No, no, she thought. He should work hard to get me back this time. Then he’ll think twice about that bitch, Jacquelyn.