by J. D. Mason
“Why?” she grimaced. “Your own son can’t trust you with his woman. I sure as hell ain’t gonna trust you with mine.”
“Lou,” Angie shouted. “Get inside.”
Lou took her damn time going inside the house, glaring at Luther until she disappeared behind the door.
“You could’ve stayed home, Angie,” Luther eventually said.
“I know, but I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Nick?”
He sighed, “He’ll be fine.”
“You think the two of you will get past this?”
“Doubt it.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Hell no, I’m not okay with it, but it’s not up to me. Do I blame myself? Yes. Do I take full responsibility for my actions? Again, yes. Does my son have a right to hate my fuckin’ guts? Absolutely.” He raised his hands. “End of story.”
“And what about her?”
He shrugged. “She’s gone. Moved to Texas.”
“Remember that time we were on the road with Babyface and the bus broke down outside Seattle, I think,” she reminded him.
“Yeah. I remember. Playing Spades against Troy and Big Mike,” he reminded her. “We came real close to reneging in that last round.”
“I gave up my Ace to Big Mike’s joker,” she recalled, smiling. “Because I knew you had that high joker.”
“How’d you know?”
She shrugged. “I knew you. I could read you. You looked at me. I don’t know. It just— I knew. Connection, Luther. When it’s right, you don’t need words. In that moment, you understood just like I understood, that we might not win that game if one of us didn’t do something. You had the high joker. We only needed one book.”
“But this wasn’t about cards, Angie. It was about so much more.”
“I know. As hard as the two of you were trying to hide it that night, I sensed it… a connection between you and Terri, which was why I assumed y’all were together.”
He chuckled, “I think you’re full of shit and saw drama because you wanted to see it.”
“You’re full of shit if you think it wasn’t obvious. If nobody else noticed, it’s because they never played Spades with you before.”
He shook his head, slightly.
“There’s no greater feeling than sharing space with someone else who you feel belongs in that space, Luther. Yeah, what you did was hella wrong, and you don’t deserve your son’s forgiveness. You also don’t deserve to live the rest of your life alone.”
“Angie—”
“You don’t, Luther. I know how much you’ve beaten yourself up over Ava. You’re not a bad man. You’ve done some fucked up shit, but you’re one of those led by his heart and not his head. Know what that makes you?”
He looked at her. “A fool?”
Angie laughed, “Exactly, but shit, Luther,” Angie turned her gaze to the ocean. “Even fools deserve to be happy.”
He wasn’t convinced.
“I’m going to ask you again,” she continued. “Do you love this woman?”
Luther gathered his courage, enough to admit the truth. “That connection you just went on and on about?” he looked at Angie.
“Yeah?”
“I felt it with her,” he confessed. Luther tried swallowing the lump swelling in his throat. “That was something I never even felt with Ava. So, yes, Angie.” Luther strummed a chord. “I’m in love.”
He’d said it. Luther had finally admitted what he’d rather choke on than ever admit to another living soul. God! He loved Ava more than he thought it was possible to love another living soul, but there was something between them, a barrier, a gap, space, where the two never quite united despite how hard they both tried.
“It was never hard for her to tell me to follow my dreams—to play.” Hot tears stung his eyes. “Ava saw me at my worst when I wasn’t playing. I was miserable, angry, and resentful. Thought I could learn to live without the music, performing, and maybe in time, I could’ve. But rather than have to deal with my ass every day, feeling like she was responsible for stealing my dream, she’d tell me she was fine and that I needed to make money to keep the bills paid.”
“She gave you her permission,” Angie concluded. “Right or wrong, you took it.”
He nodded. “I did and I hate myself for it.”
“You can’t go back and change it, Luther. You can’t fix your broken relationship with Nick. So, what’s left?”
Luther picked up his guitar again and broke out chords of James Bay’s, Hold Back the River, looked at Angie and started singing.
Lou burst through the door, glaring at Luther, taking a seat next to Angie, and with a look, warned him not to even think about trying to steal her woman’s heart.
Luther and Angie laughed.
Days later, Angie and Lou had decided to take a walk on the beach, leaving Luther in the house alone. He stared at the cell phone in his hands like it was going to sprout wings and fly away. Terri’s number was the last number he’d called. He’d lost count of how many messages he’d left. Luther reached out to her anyway, knowing he was the last person she wanted to hear from. He couldn’t blame her. Luther had been toxic the day she’d come to his place, toxic and unapologetic about it.
Without thinking, he lightly tapped her name with his thumb, dialing her number.
“This is Terri Dawson. Leave a message.”
Luther released a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. “Let’s see,” he paused. “Where’d I leave off?”
He started to hum and tap a beat on his thigh. Luther closed his eyes and started singing.
“Redemption and me don’t see eye to eye.
Forgiveness don’t know my name.
I’d like to try—just the same.
Talk to me, baby girl.
Pick up the phone and—
Let me apologize.”
He chuckled. “It doesn’t exactly rhyme, but…” He hung up.
Damn! He missed her.
Pusherman
Terri still could not believe the man was actually here, casually sauntering alongside Nona’s pool, daring to try to break the ice with super awkward small talk.
“Growing up, my sister and I used to spend summers in Houston with our grandparents, getting fat and happy on Dr. Pepper and red licorice whips.”
David wore a white button down, the sleeves casually folded back midway up his forearm, with jeans and casual slip-on leather shoes.
“I’d have never guessed you had anything to do with Texas,” Terri said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. “The summer heat must’ve been brutal on you.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets and gave her the side eye. “You’re telling me. A California boy in Southern Texas during the hottest part of the year?” He glanced at Terri, stretched out on a chaise, wearing a pair of cutoffs and an oversized tee shirt. “Tor and ture.”
He was so fuckin’ Hollywood. Nine months ago, he’d fired Terri under the guise of being “boring”. Now he was here, in Houston, poolside—beating around the bush in a conversation leading up to offering her a new gig.
“A fish out of water,” Roxy, looking as perfect and as polished as ever in a red form fitting, knee length sheath, chimed in. Red was a power color and that dress was powerful enough to cover both Roxy and Terri.
Terri quietly marveled at the revelation that she’d never seen Roxy in flats and jeans or a sundress. The woman always looked as if she was head of the board of directors of some corporation.
“You plan on calling Houston home, Terri?” David probed. Of course, he was fishing. Roxy had filled Terri in on the reason for this little gathering. He wanted her back and he was willing to bring his ass all the way to Texas to get her.
“Maybe,” Terri replied, curtly.
David looked as if he expected her to elaborate. She wasn’t going to.
“So, I guess you’ve heard about the petition floating around to get you back on the show,” he asked, fin
ally sitting at the foot of Terri’s chaise.
“Last I heard it was up to a million signatures,” Roxy added.
“One-point-five,” he clarified.
“You want me back on the show,” Terri asked, tired of this man beating around the damn bush.
“No,” he quickly responded. “I’m here to offer you your own show.”
Terri raised a brow. “My own show? But, you said I was boring.”
“To me,” he shrugged. “You were. But to more than a million people, you bought balance, class, and grace to the continuous train wreck that is Vivacious Vixens of Atlanta.”
Terri considered what he’d said. “Then how the hell do you think I can carry the weight of a whole reality television show on my own if I’m balanced, classy and graceful?” she challenged. “Those things only work if everybody else is a disaster.”
“You could bring your own disaster,” he offered with a gleam in those beautiful, green eyes of his.
Terri glanced at Roxy, returning a sly grin.
“You out here telling my business?” Terri asked.
“I gave an overview,” Roxy explained. “Very general.”
“But I got the gist of it,” David said. “You’re a beautiful woman, Terri. What made you boring, was that you thought being an actress was the only thing that made you interesting. You leveraged off that, when what makes you interesting is you, living your life, whatever that means.”
“Living my life?”
“Date. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Make mistakes. And this thing with Desmond, that role that went to someone else? Everyone knows disappointment, Terri. People are drawn to shit like that, to getting our hopes up only to have everything come crashing down around you. Hell, we could even include me firing you in this storyline. Viewers would eat it up.”
“And did I mention that Desmond’s got a new script and is really excited about it, T,” Roxy added, looking at Terri.
David looked at Roxy. “You didn’t tell me that.”
She smirked. “I know. I was saving it.”
He turned to Terri. “I mean, we could start filming in a few weeks, Terri. Get Desmond to agree to do a cameo on the show—maybe?”
“I haven’t said that I’m even interested in Desmond’s film,” Terri offered.
Roxy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course, you are.”
“Great,” David exclaimed. “The fact that you’re on the fence about this major film role, that you were hand-selected for, is even better. It’s drama. It’s intense. And remember, Lyle from The ZZ Bar in Atlanta?”
Terri drew a blank.
“Tall, dark, guns the size of my thighs,” he continued. “He owns the place and flirted with you during Dee Dee’s birthday party?”
Terri vaguely recalled him. “Yeah. I think so, his breath smelled like dirty socks.”
“I can add teeth brushing to his contract,” David said without missing a blink. “The point is, he did well with fans too. We could arrange an introduction—see what happens between the two of you?”
“This kind of exposure could mean everything for future roles, Terri,” Roxy added. “You’d be calling the shots for the first time in your career, instead of standing on the sidelines, waiting for someone else to let you play. But not only that,” she sat down next to Terri. “Imagine what else you could leverage from this? A make-up line, natural hair products, whatever side hustle you can imagine could become huge.”
Terri sat at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water. David had left half an hour ago, leaving plenty of food for thought, a cheesy grin and parting words, “I’ll be in touch.”.
She’d been at Nona’s for nearly three months now, chillin’, releasing, meditating, and adjusting to life as a brand new pescatarian.
“Not letting go of the cheese, sis,” she’d protested when Nona suggested that Terri go all-in vegan. “And I’m still on the fence about giving up the seafood, too.”
“That man practically got on his hands and knees begging you to agree to do your own show, Terri,” Roxy said, sitting behind her. “Which is unheard of for the emperor of reality television,” Roxy laughed. “And Desmond’s been blowing up my phone, chomping at the bit to get you to agree to do his new film.”
Terri introspectively stared over the crystal, blue water of Nona’s Olympic sized pool. Leave it to that woman to have a pool the size of the gulf.
“Looks like I’m finally that chick,” Terri muttered, more to herself than to Roxy.
“You’ve always been that chick, T,” Roxy responded. “Other people are finally waking their asses up to see it.”
So, why wasn’t she doing black flips into the pool? Why wasn’t she giddy times a thousand, reveling in the fact that she was on her way to having everything she’d ever dreamed of?
“What happened last time wasn’t Desmond’s call, Terri,” Roxy reminded her. “The studio flexed and gave the role to Joy. He’s still sick over it. But he assures me that this role is even better and that there’s no way he’s going to let what happened before happen again.”
The old Terri’s ego would’ve ballooned to the size of the moon over something like this. But the old Terri was more resilient and hungrier than this new Terri. She was closing in on forty-five and had happened upon the realization that if she was ever going to make a shift and break from this holding pattern, she’d been in most of her life, she needed to do it now.
“My booty’s still sore from being dropped on my ass the last time,” Terri joked.
Roxy laughed, “I know. I know, but this time we can count on a different ending.”
Terri thought long and hard before answering, “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay,” Roxy answered, her tone rather shaky. “I’ll send the script when it’s done, and you can decide from there.”
“Thanks, Rox.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Nona said, sitting at the massive breakfast bar of her massive kitchen, in her massive home, eating massive sized grapes.
Terri chopped mushrooms for the vegan wild rice, mushroom soup she’d become addicted to.
“Two big time producers are circling you like hungry vultures and you told Roxy that you’d think about it?”
Former model, Nona, headed up her own organic-uber natural skin care line and was raking in millions. Her equally beautiful hubby owned several local luxury car dealerships and everything about these two looked and smelled like money. Terri had asked to be adopted by the beautiful pair, but they’d refused citing they were more interested in adopting infants.
“You’re really serious about walking away from your career,” Nona said, sounding all kinds of surprised. “I thought you were just bullshitting, again.”
“You never listen to me, Nona.”
“I do listen,” she said, plucking another grape from the bowl. “I just don’t believe you when you say you don’t want to act anymore. It’s all you’ve ever talked about.”
“I’m tired of riding this rollercoaster,” she said. “Nine months ago, I was a boring nobody fired from a shitty reality show, and now all of a sudden, I’m a hot ticket? Just when I make peace with creating a new life for myself, somebody comes in and ruins it.”
“By offering you everything you ever wanted?” Nona said, sarcastically.
“Exactly. I used to live for this kind of drama, but now I’m just worn out.”
“I get it. And having all those boyfriends in Louisiana probably wore your ass out, too.”
Terri laughed, “Shut up.”
It was funny that she could laugh about it, now. Humiliation still sullied her reputation around the fringes, but Terri was gradually coming to terms with the fact that, for a time, she’d crossed unimaginable boundaries she never thought she was capable of crossing.
“You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need, T,” Nona reassured her. “But don’t give up on your passion just because it’s kicked your ass from time to time. I’ve seen wha
t you’re working with, girl.” Nona smiled. “You have a gift, and it sure would be a shame if you decided not to share it with the rest of us.”
“Dreams change, Nona,” Terri reminded her. “Or at least, people do. I have.”
“You keep saying that, but you’re wounded, which is the only reason you think you’ve changed. You’re scared.”
“Fed up, is more like it.” Terri set her chopped mushrooms aside. “It’s never been like this for you.”
She smiled at her best friend, marveling at the fact that Nona seemed to have the Midas touch in every area of her life.
“You wanted to be a model. You were one of the best. You wanted the perfect husband. You got him. You decided to start your own business and it took off.”
“I mean—yeah, but—I’m me.”
Terri snarled, held the knife up and pretended to bring it down on Nona’s head.
“You’re brilliant, Terri. You’ve got too much talent and too few opportunities to show it, but ask yourself, what will you do if you’re not acting?”
“For more than twenty years I have been scratching and clawing through this industry. Every now and then, landing a small victory always felt like it was the beginning of everything I’d ever wanted… only to end up feeling like I was back at the beginning all over again.”
“Life doesn’t unfold the same way for everybody, Terri.” Nona said. “You can’t waste your time comparing your life to anyone else’s. What looks good on the outside, comes at a price. I promise you.”
Ryan, Nona’s tall, beautiful, black-haired, blue-eyed love of her life, descended the stairs, looking like a member of some European monarchy.
“Time to go, love,” he said, kissing his wife lightly on the temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to come, Terri? We’ll wait for you to get dressed.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Terri assured him. “I’m going to make a pot of soup and eat it. Unless you want me to save you some.”
He chuckled, “You enjoy every last drop.”
That British accent was spine tingling.
“We’ll see you later, T,” Nona smiled, as they left.