She stared at him, ignoring his question. “I flew in a couple of hours ago. I’ve been calling you forever and you’re always busy. So, I thought it would be a nice idea to surprise you. Surprise!”
Adam chuckled even though he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He looked at Seth, who was leaned against the wall staring at Tatum. She guessed he and Erica had become quick friends while she and Adam were in the office.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Erica said. “Tatum is so lucky to have you.”
Seth continued to concentrate on Tatum. “I keep trying to convince her of that fact.”
“Since you probably have to get back to New York,” Adam quickly suggested, “why don’t I drive you to the airport?”
Erica began babbling to avoid his question. “You know, I can never understand why Cincinnati has their airport in Kentucky. It doesn’t make sense. I know Kentucky is right across the river, but it still doesn’t make sense. Does it, Seth?”
Seth didn’t reply.
“What time is your flight?” Adam interjected, pretending to have an idea.
Although she was upset by his need to get rid of her, Erica acted bubbly and happy.
“Why don’t we all go to dinner together?” she suggested. “It would give Seth and me a chance to spend some valuable time with our hard-working legal experts.”
Adam and Tatum shook their heads. However, Seth agreed with enthusiasm. “What a great idea.”
“Great,” Erica shouted.
Adam and Tatum knew they weren’t getting out of this one.
Erica decided they would take Seth’s car, and the drive was filled with Erica’s incessant babbling. At the fancy restaurant, Seth pulled a chair from under the table. Tatum knew he wanted her to sit there, but she sat in the opposite chair. Seth grinned, more amused than insulted.
Adam sat next to Tatum. Erica stood staring down at him but Adam didn’t notice. He was too busy studying the wine list.
“Uh, let me get that for you,” Seth said as he pulled out the chair. Disappointed, Erica nodded and sat down.
Dinner was painful. Erica talked, talked, and talked. She excitedly described the first time she met Adam, how much they loved each other and their future.
“I can’t wait to get married. They say it’s your own fairytale. I think it is.” Erica giggled. “I wish there was a place you could get married and never divorced. It would be so great. We’d be together forever.”
Adam choked on his wine.
Seth took the opportunity to speak. “Have you planned your wedding?” he asked, looking at Tatum.
“No.” Tatum sulked through dinner just as she had on the drive. She didn’t want to be here. Erica talked too much. Seth kept staring at her.
She looked down. He scooted toward her. She moved away. Tatum knew he’d gotten the message, but she also knew he didn’t care.
“Have you gotten positive press?” Adam quickly asked.
“Some positive press,” Seth answered, “but it’s mainly through word of mouth.”
“You need to some personal press?” Tatum jumped in. “So why don’t you hire blacks in management positions? You know Ralph was perfect for the position.”
Seth reached for his wine glass.
“Tatum let’s leave the case in the office,” Adam suggested. “We’re having dinner.”
“You opened the proverbial door,” she told her boss, feeling like she was being scolded.
“No, I’ll answer her question,” Seth interjected.
Go ahead. Lie.
“What were you talking to Ralph about when I returned from my business trip?”
Tatum glanced down. Now, she was on the defensive and she didn’t like it. She didn’t see a connection to her question. He’d overlooked Ralph because he was black. Ralph had more than shown Seth he could do the job.
Then, she thought about his question, about how much he’d heard. She wondered if he’d returned to Gabby because he didn’t trust her anymore. Or worse, because he thought something was happening between them.
“I’m waiting,” he urged.
“If you can answer a question with a question, then I can too. Why do you care?”
“I want you to support me like you’re championing Ralph’s cause,” he answered.
She didn’t understand what he was talking about. She’d never championed Ralph for the job. He was a good friend. She didn’t love him like she’d loved Seth. He didn’t make her heart…
Tatum stared down at the table.
She didn’t love him anymore. It was impossible to love a man who treated her like an object.
“So, why did you keep it from me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a careless shrug. “I’m ready to go.”
Adam and Seth waited for the valet outside. Adam strongly suggested for Erica and Tatum to stay inside where it was warm. He needed to approach his client. He’d watched Seth and Tatum argue, and he saw something he didn’t like. Adam knew Tatum too well. Unfortunately, he didn’t think Seth knew her at all.
“You could have stayed in there too,” Seth told him, his breath slamming against the cold air to create smoke-like puffs.
“I wanted to offer a suggestion.”
“With Tatum?” Seth asked, surprised. “I can use all the help I can get.”
“Yes and no.” Adam answered the question before he changed the subject. “You should settle.”
“Settle what?”
Adam exhaled. “Settle the case.”
“I’m not settling. I picked the best person for the job.”
“No, you picked the person who didn’t ruin your chances with Tatum.”
“What fuck are you talking about? You think I’m worried about Ralph?”
“I know you are.”
“Then you’re wrong. Think about it. I would have fired him altogether instead of hiring someone else for the manager position.”
Adam wasn’t buying it. “I listened to the two of you. I don’t know what really happened between you, but it’s not worth risking your livelihood, no matter what else is involved here. You can’t just make a point. You need to get out of this situation as unscathed as possible.”
“Listen,” Seth countered, “what happened in there was just a roadblock between me and Tatum. We’ll get back together.”
“And you’ll be millions of dollars poorer.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money. I love Tatum and I’m going to get her back.”
“Seth, you are playing Russian Roulette with your livelihood. Think about it. You’re in an interracial relationship. It’s hard enough without being labeled a racist.”
“How the hell would you know about interracial relationships? From what I see, you can’t even be man enough to tell Erica to get lost.”
“You’re right.” Adam pointed at himself. “I’ve never been in an interracial relationship, but I know you refused that man the position because you’re jealous. For some reason, you think he’s going to steal Tatum away from you. That’s not racial discrimination. That’s stupidity.”
Seth stared at his lawyer. Adam watched his blue eyes turn to frost. “So you’re stepping down as my lawyer or what?”
“Or what.” He was going to uphold his personal oath to fight for the underdog, even if the client suffered from stupidity.
“Sir, your car,” the valet interrupted the conversation.
Seth accepted the keys. “Now that that’s settled, you can get the ladies.”
Tatum purposefully missed her therapy appointment. She needed time to think and having to hear the psycho-babble wouldn’t help. The secretary had pressed her for a rescheduled date, but Tatum had sidestepped the question. She didn’t want to return to therapy. Her life was better without it.
For the first time ever, she was making her own choices. She’d kicked Karla and Seth out of her life. The only problem was, Seth couldn’t take a hint. Now, her family was the best thing happening to he
r. There was a new beginning. She was thrilled each time she remembered her birthday party. Spending time with her cousins had made her realize how much things had changed.
She’d decided to take Myra’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, which was the usual family get-together Tatum had avoided. In the past, she’d fearfully envisioned the Day of Thanks turning into a thankless intervention. And she’d had the right to fear. It had happened once before.
She’d been thirteen years old and her parents had dragged her to Thanksgiving dinner. Dinner had been great until the comment. Her mother had decided to make fun of her, and Tatum had wanted to believe it was innocent. That maybe it was her mother’s way of coping with her decisions.
“You’re still crazy about them white boys, aren’t you?”
Tatum hadn’t known how to answer, so she didn’t. She’d nervously laughed and prayed no one would reply. However, her prayers weren’t answered. Her aunt commented. Then, someone else. All of a sudden, she was the topic of conversation, and it was hurtful to listen to them discuss her potential sex life.
“She’d probably give it up on the first date.”
“I don’t think so,” her mother said. “White men generally don’t look at girls like her.”
“What, ugly?” her aunt joked.
“That’s why she’d give it up so fast,” someone else said. “She’d be so happy a white man looked her, why she’d open her legs like she was a 7-11.”
Tatum had done everything in her power not to cry, not wanting to cause a scene. Not wanting to be ridiculed further. Fearing they’d make fun of her tears.
“That’s the past,” Tatum said aloud, parking her car on the crowded street. She couldn’t believe there were no butterflies churning in her stomach. There was no dread or fear. Things had changed. She smiled.
Knocking on the door, she was quickly greeted by an excited Myra as her cousin hugged her. Tatum gladly accepted the hug. Myra took her black coat and purse and pushed her into the living room where everyone cheered.
Tatum’s grandmother’s home was just as she remembered: the checkered couch and love seat with protective plastic covering. Old painted portraits of Martin Luther King Junior, Jesus and President Kennedy hanging over the couch on the green painted walls. She wondered if this was her grandmother’s distinctive homage to these men or if everyone in her generation did that.
The only thing that was different was the television. The old, dark wooden floor model television had been replaced with a set from the late 1980s. The woman hated to buy anything new, so it was fair to assume it was a present.
Her aunt, Reggie’s mother, was the first of the bunch to greet her with a hug. “How’s my favorite, beautiful niece?”
Surprised by the question, Tatum returned the hug and replied, “Good.”
Reggie, minus his boyfriend, didn’t hug her. He disappeared into the kitchen. Anita gave her a half-hearted hug before joining Reggie. Myra entered the living room and sat in Reggie’s vacant seat.
“How’s Uncle Donald’s little niece?” A tall man with salt and pepper hair, a goatee, and a warm expression greeted her. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“It’s great to see you too.” Tatum was surprised by the comment.
Everyone else greeted her with a wave or polite greeting, and Tatum finally felt like she was at home.
She sat on the couch, and the plastic covering made a farting noise. Time flew by as she excitedly submerged herself in her family members’ lives. They laughed and joked about the past, which caused her to blame herself for not doing this sooner. Seth had been right about one thing: the past is the past.
When they sat down to eat, Tatum joined the women and children at the dining room table. The men chose to have their meals in the living room so they could watch football. Her grandmother swore one of them would choke between the yelling and eating.
The turkey was great. The greens and cornbread weren’t delicious until they were drowned in hot sauce. Tatum couldn’t resist two helpings of potato salad and macaroni and cheese. Of course, she saved plenty of room for her grandmother’s homemade sweet potato pie, silently promising her diet would begin after the holidays.
Everyone settled into the living room again. It was dark outside. Football had ended and everyone was stuffed. Tatum, sitting on a foldout chair, sipped her cola.
Uncle Donald looked through the newspaper as he sat on the couch. He seemed distraught when he couldn’t find the section he wanted. Tatum watched him leave the living room in a huff, bewildered by his actions.
“Tatum,” her aunt caught her attention, “are you still working?”
“Yes,” she answered. It was an odd question. Why wouldn’t she be working?
“Honey child, if I were you, I’d kick my heels back and relax.”
“I haven’t saved enough money for that,” Tatum joked, not understanding the sudden attention to her finances.
“I know it was here somewhere,” Uncle Donald said as he rushed into the living room. He slowly bent down to look in a cabinet.
Her grandmother followed him, agitated. “I told you I used some of it when I cut up the catfish last week.”
“Where do you work again?” one of her cousins asked.
“At a law firm downtown,” Tatum volunteered. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but it’s called Adam Fortune Attorney at Law.”
“I found it,” Uncle Donald said with pride. He waved the paper in the air like a prize.
“Is he hiring?” the same cousin asked.
“Uh,” Tatum stammered, her attention still on her uncle, “No.”
“Come on,” her cousin whined. “You can hook a brother up.”
“Yeah,” Anita agreed. “Tyrone is back in his child support.”
She felt bad for her cousin, but there was nothing she could do. Nervous, she tried to let him down gently. “I don’t do the hiring.”
“How about one of those nightclubs you own?” Tyrone suggested.
Confused, Tatum glanced at her family members looking for help. “What nightclubs? I don’t own any nightclubs.”
“Yeah you do,” Tyrone angrily commented. “It’s a shame. Your own family and you won’t let us share a little in your wealth?”
“I don’t own anything. Heck, I don’t even own a house. So, I’m not being stingy.” Tatum didn’t know where they got the information, but she tried to do her best to disprove it.
“Look here.” Her uncle shoved the newspaper in her face before continuing. “You own three of them.”
She took the paper so he could stop pushing it in her face. Tatum studied it, and her stomach jumped into her throat. She was staring at a picture of herself and Seth. It had been taken the night of the anniversary party for Legacy.
She couldn’t breathe. The food she’d eaten threatened to make an appearance. Tatum knew she would have to defend herself. Please God, let them hate me because they think I’m filthy rich and not because I’m in love with a white man.
“So,” her aunt interrupted her thoughts in an accusing tone, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
Tatum was at a loss. She didn’t know what she was fighting against. She put the newspaper on the table next to her, which was quickly picked up by someone. She wasn’t paying attention who took it.
“So you gonna hook me up or what?” Tyrone questioned.
“I told you, I don’t own anything.”
Her aunt waved her hand in disgust. “You’re giving it up to a white man and you’re not getting anything out of it. You’re stupider than I thought.”
Tatum couldn’t breathe. She thought about her options. Maybe if I don’t say anything she’ll stop.
Or she could leave.
“You’re an adult now,” she could hear her therapist saying. “Defend yourself.”
“Honestly, I thought it was a phase.” Her grandmother put on her bifocals to look at the picture. Uncle Donald shook his head. He still stood in front of h
er, staring down at her. It made her feel like a helpless child…again.
Tatum scooted lower in the foldout chair.
“A white boy,” he said in disbelief and resentment. “You’re going to ruin your life over a white boy. Little girl, don’t you know that white men don’t want anything from you but what’s between your legs? He won’t marry you—”
“Oh please, Donald,” her aunt interrupted. “You’re wasting your breath. Everybody’s been telling her that for years. I tell ya, Lynda and Tate are rolling in their graves right now.”
Go to hell, Tatum wanted to scream. But she remained silent, hoping it would blow over.
Her grandmother threw the paper back on the table. “I always said it was the devil in her. It made her crazy about those blue-eyed devils. What a shame.”
Tatum, crushed, was definitely going to be sick.
“What is it about those white boys that drive you so nuts, huh?” her aunt questioned. “It can’t be the money ‘cuz you ain’t getting none. So what is it?”
“I heard they do some crazy shit in bed,” someone answered. “That’s probably it. She’s a freak.”
“I’m not a freak!” Tatum found her voice.
“What then?” her aunt badgered.
Just explain yourself and leave. You don’t have to take this.
“I find them attractive,” she explained.
“Oh, I understand…a brother isn’t good enough for you,” Tyrone assumed.
“That’s not true. I’m attracted to all men.”
“Oh yeah?” Tyrone sounded amused.
“Yes. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to men outside your race.”
Uncle Donald pointed his index finger in her face. She leaned back.
“Don’t you understand what your ancestors went through?” he asked. “Black women were raped and forced to have sex with white men. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Yes it does. It—”
“Then why do it? Why the hell sleep with a white man? He doesn’t want you. He wants the damn experience of having you.”
“Seth’s not like that—”
“Is he giving you any money?” her aunt jeered. “At least a damn hooker gets that much.”
The Score Page 16