She has to live with an aunt she doesn’t even know, Adele thought. “She’s making friends at school. Tiffany seems like a nice girl.”
“I hope so. Kendra needs a nice friend. You met Tiffany’s daddy Saturday, right?”
She’d met Tiffany’s daddy before Saturday. “Yeah.”
“What did you think of him?”
For the past few days, she’d been trying not to think of him. Not to think of the way he looked all hot and sweaty, strolling toward her, each step slow and easy. “He seemed okay.” She shrugged. “Why?”
“Kendra said that he’s the football coach over at Cedar Creek High and that he used to play professional ball. She couldn’t remember the team, but she said Tiffany showed her posters and bobble heads and football jerseys in glass cases.” Sherilyn leaned her head back against her pillow and sighed. “I guess he seems okay, but I always like to meet the parents of Kendra’s friends just to make sure she isn’t hanging out with children whose parents are too permissive.” A little frown appeared between her tired blue eyes. “A year ago we got crosswise when she befriended a little girl who didn’t have a curfew, dressed like Britney Spears, and was trying to grow up way too fast. Suddenly Kendra wanted to wear a short skirt and thong underwear.”
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, but I don’t think you have to worry about Tiffany.”
“Kendra says there’s no mother in the home, and it sounds like her father is really busy.”
Busy with work or women? she wondered. She thought of that horrid life-sized portrait of Devon, and figured any self-respecting woman would likely run away if she had to look at their boyfriend’s dead wife glaring down at her all the time. “Her mother died a few years ago.”
“Oh, poor thing.”
“You remember Devon Hamilton.”
Sherilyn closed her eyes and thought a moment. “Isn’t she the one who used to torture you about your hair?”
Among other things. “Yes. That was Tiffany’s mother.”
Sherilyn’s eyes flew open, and her gaze met Adele’s. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope.”
Sherilyn reached for the Gummi Bears and opened the bag. “Small world.”
She had no idea.
“I feel so helpless. I can’t keep an eye on my daughter.” She popped a red bear into her mouth. “And with everything going on with William, I haven’t bought a thing for the baby.” She rubbed her stomach. “Poor thing.”
For a type-A, control freak like Sherilyn, being confined to bed had to be hell. “Kendra and I will get everything ready for the baby. It’ll be fun.” And as soon as Sherilyn had the baby, and everything was okay, Adele was out of there. Back to her own home and her friends and her life.
“Great.” Sherilyn tossed the bag of Gummi Bears on the tray. “The baby’s moving.” Counting kicks and paying attention to movement was important in a preeclampsia pregnancy. “Give me your hand.” She grabbed Adele around the wrist and placed her palm on the left side of her belly.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“Shhh…there. Did you feel that?”
Adele shook her head. Yesterday, she hadn’t felt anything either. Or the day before that.
After a few moments, Sherilyn let go. “I guess he went back to sleep.” She pointed to the nightstand. “Get a piece of paper and pencil and write down everything I tell you.”
An hour later, Adele had a three-page list of what the baby needed as well as a list of appropriate behavior, activities, and television programs for Kendra. Basically, anything that had cursing in it was forbidden. Which meant Adele would have to catch up with some of her favorite shows after Kendra went to bed.
Adele shoved the list into her purse, hopped in Sherilyn’s car, and headed to Sterling Park Middle School. The second she entered the old gym, she was struck by two things. One, it looked smaller than she recalled. And two, it smelled the same. Like hardwood floors and rubber balls. A red-and-black-painted stallion took up the center of the floor, and at the far end, Kendra and a few dozen or so girls stretched and tied their dance shoes. Kendra had pulled her hair back and tied a white-and-red ribbon around her ponytail. Adele gave her niece a big wave, but Kendra must not have seen because she turned her back. Adele shrugged and moved up the bleachers to take a seat three rows up. On the floor below her, four teachers and three students sat at a judging table. One of the students was Tiffany Zemaitis with her hair pulled back in a claw and a pencil in one hand.
Just a few short weeks ago, Adele never would have imagined that she’d find herself sitting in her old middle-school gymnasium. She wrote about the bizarre and unlikely, but she never would have imagined that someday she’d watch her niece try out for a dance team on which Devon and Zach’s daughter was the captain. Not in a million light-years.
She set the Handycam next to her and put her elbows on the bench behind her to stretch out and wait. Neither would she have ever pictured herself the interim de facto parent of a thirteen-year-old. She knew nothing about children. She hadn’t been responsible to another living thing since her veiled chameleon, Steve, died of old age five years ago. And a teen required much more than some misting water, a clean basking area, and a few crickets.
Whatever it was that Kendra required, Adele hadn’t figured it out yet. Kendra hated chicken because it was “veiny.” She hated salad because lettuce tasted like “dirt,” and she hated bananas because they were “mushy” even when they weren’t.
Since the age of eighteen, Adele had lived alone and really didn’t cook much. She usually just threw steak or chicken on her George Foreman and made a salad. Something quick and easy, but Kendra wanted stuff that had to be planned out and cooked, like spaghetti or enchiladas. Or better yet, she wanted fast food. When Adele had explained that she couldn’t have McDonald’s or Taco Bell every day because it was very unhealthy and filled with trans fats, Kendra had looked at her, and said, “That’s gay.” As Adele had quickly discovered, anything that Kendra didn’t like or didn’t like to hear, was “gay.” Adele might have pointed out that saying everything was “gay” wasn’t very p.c., but she figured Kendra would just look at her as if she were old and stupid and “gay.”
A girl in black spandex moved to the center of the gym, put her head down, and waited. Within a few seconds “Get Ready 4 This” blasted from a CD player in front of the judges’ table. The girl began to dance, and it wasn’t so much that she was bad, as she just wasn’t very good. The second girl was a bit better, but unfortunately, the loud squeaky doors to the gym opened and slammed shut three times during her performance, prompting one of the judges to make a sign and hang it on the outside. After that people filed in through the locker rooms.
Half a dozen girls danced before Kendra took the floor. She put her CD in the player, then waited for the first few beats of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” Adele stood, and through the Handycam’s screen, she watched her niece. Kendra had mentioned that she’d been in dance classes since the age of four. Adele had taken dance classes throughout her life, too, and she recognized someone with natural talent. When Kendra finished, Adele gave a few whoop whoops, then stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. She’d probably just acted really “gay” in Kendra’s eyes, but she was too excited and proud not to make some noise.
Several more girls danced after Kendra, and by the time everyone finished trying out, it was past six. Adele stuck the Handycam in her shoulder bag and moved down the bleachers. She moved a few feet from the judge’s table, where the girls had gathered.
“You were awesome,” Adele told Kendra, as her niece separated herself a bit from the other girls.
Kendra shook her head. “I messed up twice.”
“I didn’t notice.” She lowered her voice, and added, “You were a lot better than everyone else.”
Kendra tried and failed to hide her smile. The first really genuine smile Adele had seen on her niece’s face. “I hope so. A few of the girls were good.”
“Grab your stuff, and we’ll run to the hospital to show your mom what a great job you did.”
Kendra pointed past Adele’s left shoulder. “We have to wait until they announce the winners.”
Adele turned to the judges’ table near her. Their heads were all together, and they spoke in hushed tones. “They’re going to announce the winners now?”
“Yeah.”
The doors to the gym banged open, prompting everyone to turn as Zach Zemaitis walked in, trailing the last remnants of the setting sun. Apparently he hadn’t bothered reading the note stuck to the door. The door banged shut behind him, and he stopped just inside and looked around. He wore a black Nike hooded sweatshirt and a pair of faded-out Levi’s. A whistle circled his neck, and the curved brim of his cap shadowed his face and hid his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and looked intimidating and massive standing there framed by the door and glancing about. His arms fell to his sides, and although she couldn’t see his gaze, she knew it had stopped on her. She could feel it move up and down her body, touching here, stopping there.
“Hey, Daddy,” Tiffany called out to him.
He took off his hat and walked across the gym to the judges’ table. He ran his fingers through his hair as his unhurried stride carried him closer. He didn’t so much as glance at Adele, and she wondered if she’d imagined that whole feeling-his-gaze-on-her thing. She wondered if he’d even seen her at all.
Zach stopped next to Tiffany and tossed his hat on the table. “Are you just about done here, sugar bug?”
“Yep.”
One of the female teachers looked up. “Hello, Coach Z. How’re you doin’?”
“Can’t complain, Mary Jo.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile that oozed Southern boy charm. “You look awfully pretty,” he told the woman old enough to be his mother. “Did you do something with your hair?”
“Got it done at the Clip and Snip,” she said through a little giggle.
Adele rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her niece. “I think we need to celebrate. Let’s go to McDonald’s on the way home from the hospital.”
A frown wrinkled Kendra’s flawless forehead. “We don’t know if I made it or not.”
“Doesn’t matter. You did a good job and tried your best. That’s all that counts,” she said, as a small crowd filtered down from the bleachers and waited for the judges. A lot of them called out “heys” to “Couch Z.” Most of them were women.
“I’m going to go stand with the other girls,” Kendra said as she abandoned Adele and moved a few feet away.
“Adele Harris. I thought that was you.”
Adele turned and looked into a pair of blue eyes that would have been on the same level as hers if she hadn’t been wearing three-inch heels. “Cletus Sawyer?”
“Yeah. How are you?”
“Good.” She gave him a quick hug, then stepped back to look at him. In school, Cletus had been a geeky nerd and they’d belonged to the same drama club. In The Tempest, she’d been Ariel, and he’d played Prospero. He’d been skinny and buck toothed, but he’d filled out some and gotten his teeth fixed. He was still fair-skinned with red hair, but he’d matured into a handsome guy. Not as handsome as the man standing directly behind him, sucking up the attention of every female in the gym. But there really weren’t many men who were better-looking than Zach Zemaitis.
“It’s good to see you,” she said through a smile. “What have you been up to?”
“Just livin’. I teach math here at Sterlin’ Park.”
A math teacher. Zach looked over the math teacher’s head at Adele. Surely she didn’t see anything remotely attractive in a guy with a pocket protector.
“What have you been up to?” the math teacher asked.
Zach would like to know that himself.
“I write science-fiction and fantasy novels.”
“Wow. Are you published?”
“Yes. I have ten books published, just turned in my eleventh and am about ready to start my twelfth.” She glanced up past the teacher’s red hair, and her gaze met Zach’s. He wasn’t all that surprised that she wrote fantasy novels. She’d been interested in fairies and druids and other weird shit when he’d known her. He was also not all that surprised that she was a published author. She’d been one of the smartest girls he’d known.
“Do you publish under your own name?”
Her beautiful blue eyes looked into his for several more seconds before she returned her gaze to the teacher. “Yes.”
“Hey, Zach,” LaDonna Simms called out as she walked toward him. LaDonna had been a good friend of Devon’s and was a member of the Junior League.
“Hey, LaDonna.” She stopped in front of him, and he looked past her big blond hair and returned his attention to Adele. He’d noticed her the second he’d stepped into the gym. Noticed her butt inside her tight jeans. Not only had she been smart, she’d always had a nice butt. Still did.
“Did you get your invitation to the Night of a Million Stars benefit?” LaDonna asked.
“Yeah I did, but I don’t have anyone involved in the Junior League these days.” Just like last year and the year before.
“Oh well.” LaDonna leaned closer and put her hand on his arm. “We all loved Devon so much, we consider you part of the League family. Unofficially of course.”
“Of course.” As LaDonna rambled on, Zach tuned her out and listened to the conversation a few feet away. It was much more interesting than pretending interest in the Junior League. Eavesdropping was rude. His momma had always told him so, but he didn’t particularly give a damn.
“You sure look good,” the math teacher said, and Zach could practically hear him drool.
“Thank you, Cletus. I jog five miles a day.”
“I work out sometimes,” the nerd said, which Zach figured was pretty much bullshit. “We should get together and catch up.”
Adele hesitated, and Zach thought she was going to turn him down. Instead, she pushed her heavy hair behind one shoulder and smiled. “I’d like that, Cletus.” She gave him her phone number and the little guy programed it into his cell.
“Can I have everyone’s attention,” Tiffany called out as she stepped up onto her chair. “We’d like to thank y’all for coming out this afternoon and trying out for the Stallionettes. But there are only two available spots.” She looked down at her notes. “It was a really hard decision, but we’d like to welcome Lisa Ray Durke and Kendra Morgan to join the team.”
Applause and a few shouts of joy accompanied the announcement. Several other girls burst into tears and fell on each other crying. Zach watched Adele’s smile reach her eyes as she turned her gaze from the math teacher and toward her niece.
“Oh, shoot.” LaDonna dropped her hand. “Roseanna didn’t make it,” she said referring to her daughter. “She’s just devastated and crying her little eyes out. Excuse me.”
Evidently, Roseanna was one of the girls carrying on. Zach didn’t understand why girls had to get so emotional about everything and why they had to get all emotional in public. Not making a dance team wasn’t like losing state or a bowl game, for God’s sake. Now that was damn traumatic.
“Hey, Daddy.”
Zach dragged his attention from Adele and her niece to his daughter. “Are you ready to go?”
“Just a sec. I have to talk to Kendra and Lisa Ray first.”
“Don’t take all night,” he said, and shoved his hat back on his head. He sat on the edge of the judging table as the gym began to clear out. He figured he’d waited about five minutes before Tiffany, Kendra, and Adele moved toward him.
“Congratulations, Kendra,” he said, and rose to his full height. “I guess this means we’ll be seeing you at the house practicing some more.”
“Oh, yeah,” Tiffany answered for the other girl. As the four of them headed across the gym, she added, “Kendra has to learn the dances really quickly. Our next competition is in a few weeks.”
“I’ll be
ready,” Kendra assured her.
The heels of Adele’s shoes tapped across the hardwood floor, the sound of a pair of sexy shoes filling his head with ideas.
“I’m having a barbecue this Sunday for all the girls,” Tiffany announced. “You have to come, Kendra. It’ll be fun.”
Kendra looked across her shoulder at Adele. “Can I?”
“We’ll talk to your mom, but I don’t know why not.”
Zach opened the door for the two girls, and as Adele passed, he heard himself say, “You should come, too.” He hadn’t meant to invite her. Wasn’t even sure it was a good idea. No, strike that. He was sure. It wasn’t a good idea.
She paused, the curls resting on her shoulder a few inches from his chest. Her eyes looked into his. “I don’t think so.”
He should be relieved. For some reason he wasn’t. “Are you afraid?”
“Of?”
She looked good and smelled better, and he answered, “Of about a dozen thirteen-year-old girls runnin’ around screamin’ and gigglin’ and blastin’ shitty music.”
She almost smiled as she shook her head and stepped outside. “I’m busy.”
“With the redhead?” He followed, and the door shut behind him. If he didn’t know himself better, he’d think he sounded jealous. Which was ridiculous. Even if he had an interest in pursuing something with Adele, which he didn’t, he wasn’t jealous of a redheaded math teacher.
“Maybe.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out a set of keys. “Catching up with Cletus will be nice. After the week I’ve had, I’m ready for a good time.”
“Good time?” He reached for the brim of his hat, slid it back, then settled it in the same place. “Impossible.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Not that I really care, but why?”
“He’ll bruise like a peach.”
“I’m going to talk to him.” She frowned and shook her head. “Not punch him.”
Clearly they were talking about two different kinds of “good times.”
“Hey, Z,” the middle-school football coach called out as he approached. “That was some game last weekend. Shame about Don.”
Not Another Bad Date Page 6