by Mata Elliott
Trevor helped the girls discard their trash and accompanied them to the ladies’ room door. He paced outside, leery over sending his little girls into a public restroom unattended—a single father’s apprehension. Brandi exited the lavatory first, hands dripping with water. “Why didn’t you dry your hands?” he asked, his voice on edge because he hadn’t come completely down from worrying.
Brittney, having heard the question as she came out of the bathroom, answered for her sister, “No towels,” and returned to the booth to collect the stickers the waitress gave all kids under eleven, drying her hands on the front of her shorts. Trevor grabbed a handful of napkins and gave them to Brandi before she also resorted to using her clothing. Outside, he whisked her into his arms.
“I want to see another movie,” she whimpered, hugging his neck.
“No more movies tonight.” He kissed Brandi’s chin, sticky with ketchup. He reached for Brittney’s hand. She immediately plunged it into her pocket.
Their seat belts fastened, Trevor cruised from the parking lot. The rain seemed to be over, and a few stars brightened the sky. At the traffic signal, he peered around the headrest. Brandi’s lids fluttered on the brink of sleep. Across from her, Brittney stared through the window. A week after Brenda’s funeral, he’d sent both girls to professional grief counseling at the church, though he hadn’t signed up for it himself. The sessions benefited Brandi, but Brittney would cry hysterically when it was time to attend, and he eventually gave in and stopped making her go. He just couldn’t stand the crying anymore. And since Brittney continued to earn passing grades in school and was playing as energetically on the soccer field as normal, Trevor thought forcing her into counseling might do more damage than good and only make her hate him more.
The little girl who used to shoot hoops with him, help him make cookies, and confide in him about everything was angry with him. She had every right to be. His behavior on the day they lost Brenda was irresponsible, insensitive. But at this point, he didn’t know what else to do or say to make things right. Not a day went by that he didn’t hug his girls, kiss his girls, and tell them how much he loved them. What else could he say that would mean as much as “I love you”?
“I love you, too,” Rave Brown whispered to the man in her daydream before concluding with a kiss to his lips.
She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. She rested a stem glass half-full of white wine on the nightstand and rose from the king-size canopy bed. The thick carpeting of the large bedroom snuggled the soles of her bare feet as she crossed the room and pulled open the door of a walk-in closet. She stepped inside and snapped on the light. Rave removed the pantsuit she’d worn to the firm, and for a long time, she stood motionless in front of a wide full-length mirror in a lace chemise and a matching thong. Finally, with her hands planted on her waist, she studied her curves from different angles and smiled applause. She had been blessed with her father’s fair skin and straight hair and her mother’s C-cup breasts and small shapely backside.
The satisfaction on Rave’s face withered to disgruntlement. No matter how breathtaking she was, the man in her thoughts never appeared enamored. She stomped her foot like a contentious child and fussed at him, “You should be finished grieving by now.”
Rave stared into the resolute eyes of her reflection. The woman staring back at her was an attorney. She didn’t settle for no without a fight.
Rave jetted out of the closet. A hasty rifle through her bottom bureau drawer rewarded her with a pair of hip-hugging black shorts and a red top that was more bra than shirt, perfect for showing off her navel piercing. She slid into the clothes and a pair of red platform slides, then strutted to the kitchen to search for the ice pick.
Inside thirty minutes, Rave slammed her foot on the gas pedal of her Mercedes and whizzed out of the driveway of the Germantown Towers Luxury Apartments. A screech of tires turned heads as she swung a sharp and reckless right at the corner. “I’ll get you, Trevor,” she swore, “by any means necessary.” That’s why she’d gone after his friend. Get close to the friend, and eventually, she’d get close to Trevor. Rave remembered the day she resurrected the age-old idea. Easter Sunday. She hadn’t planned to attend service, but with several new outfits, she figured it would be a shame not to model at least one on such a holy day. The benediction spoken, she approached her targets. As always, Trevor’s greeting was wintry. But Trevor’s friend, like most men, fondled her with a lascivious gaze. Rave would have been flattered had it not been Trevor’s lust she craved.
“Trevor,” she murmured, anticipation building as she thought about tonight and how they would spend it together with candles and music and silk sheets. She disregarded a stop sign for a third time and sped along the route that would lead her to him, the road to happiness.
Delight bubbled in Cassidy, her smile deepening as she rested in the arms of the unconditional love flowing from the piano. Over the years, the ivory and ebony keys had become her confidants. The music spoke to her, and she spoke to the music. The notes knew all about the despicable act she’d committed when she was a student at Tilden University, yet they could be trusted to keep her disgrace from the world.
Cassidy struck a final note with as much gusto as she had the first, and lowered the lid of the dark upright, a gift from Odessa for her eighth birthday. The older woman joined her in the living room, carrying a purple leather-covered Bible and a mug of coffee that perfumed the air with mint chocolate. Odessa put her mug on a side table and settled into her antique rocker. The chair had been upholstered twice in fifty years, but the sepia-stained wood remained sturdy and smooth.
“Since you’re home, will you be attending the baby shower?” Odessa asked, flipping the pages of her Bible.
One of the sisters from the church was due next month, and her mother was throwing a shower at the church on Sunday afternoon. Cassidy wouldn’t get into a long discussion with Odessa about it, but the last baby shower Cassidy took part in left her battling a three-week attack of the doldrums. “No, I’ll probably hang out with Dunbar Sunday afternoon.” Cassidy shot a look at the crystal clock on the mahogany mantel, the color of the woodwork throughout the room. It was close to nine o’clock. “I’m going up for the night,” she said. “I need to go over my Bible lesson.” The Bible lessons were the chief reason she attended Charity Community’s twice-a-month Saturday night singles’ fellowship, unlike many of her female counterparts, who admitted they were there for the solitary purpose of finding a husband. Cassidy used to be one of those women who checked out every half-good-looking male who walked through the door while entertaining the thought that he might be the one. But these days Cassidy didn’t care one iota about who showed up. “Good night,” Cassidy said, and pasted a kiss on Odessa’s cheek. She got as far as plank one of the stairs when the doorbell chimed. Cassidy left the steps and followed Odessa to the door. She listened over the older woman’s shoulder, pleased she was using the intercom. She had cautioned Odessa against opening the door without checking first.
“Who is it?” Odessa repeated. The first reply had been too fuzzy to decipher.
This time the blissful voice sailed through plainly. “Special delivery.”
Aunt and niece looked at each other and chorused, “Lena.”
“Hello, ladies,” the charismatic five-foot-one body sang with enough vibrancy to light a Christmas tree. Lena Stroud strutted in, dressed in pale orange nursing scrubs and swinging a large shopping bag from Strawbridge’s. The department store was Lena’s home away from home and only a few blocks away from the hospital where Lena worked.
“I got the message you left saying you were back in town. I didn’t have to work a second shift, so I decided to stop by and show you what I bought.” Lena hugged Cassidy. She gave Odessa a tight squeeze, too, and they all moved deeper into the living room. Odessa lifted the mug she’d taken a few sips from and retreated to the kitchen. Cassidy knew Odessa would soon return with something for Lena to eat and drink. It didn’t matter
whether you called ahead or not, Odessa made sure everyone was served a heaping dose of hospitality.
Lena collapsed into a wing chair and stored the shopping bag on the floor by her sneaker-clad feet. “Today’s the day. Did you remember?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“The twins are fine.”
“Mine, too,” Cassidy told her partner. They became partners last year when the church sponsored their first Family Health Conference. At the women’s wellness seminar, Cassidy learned that twenty-something was not too young to begin breast self-exams and that it was a good idea to team up with someone who would remind you to perform the exam once a month.
“So did you meet any cute and eligible guys while you were away?”
“I had better things to do with my time.” Cassidy stretched her bare feet beneath a wood coffee table that matched smaller tables at both ends of the sofa.
“You know, you need to stop being so cold. There are some good men out there. I know I’m going to get me one.”
“I thought you already had a good man.”
“The only thing Floyd was good at was spending my money. I’m still paying for the laptop he bought with my Visa.” She waved her finger in the air. “Don’t say it. I know. I was stupid for letting that clown use my credit card.” Lena reached into the shopping bag. “And since we’re on the topic of credit cards”—she tossed a piece of black fabric across the room—“American Express just had to get this for you.”
Cassidy caught the airborne item and held it up.
Lena grinned. “Isn’t it hot?”
Cassidy stuffed the teddy that would leave very little to a man’s imagination between her hip and a sofa pillow.
“Put it with the others.” Lena winked, folding her petite legs and fingering a tress of the dark brown hair that bordered a round face and underscored the bronze hue of her skin.
“I should return it to the store.”
“Trust me, one day all our lingerie will be put to good use.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. Every month for about a year now, Lena bought the two of them a sexy piece of lingerie that they were supposed to tuck away to wear when they were married. An act of faith, Lena maintained. Cassidy only kept the skimpy garments to humor Lena. Cassidy was content as a single woman. She intended to live life to the fullest without a man by her side. She knew lots of single women who were doing just that. They weren’t sitting around waiting for a mate who would make life grow wings and take off. They were flying high, working toward goals, serving God by serving others, being the best individuals they could be. In fact, they had more zing in their steps and larger smiles in their eyes than some of the married women she knew.
“I bought you one more thing,” Lena said, uncrossing her legs. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “It had your name written all over it.” A second later, she was on her feet singing, “Ta-da,” as she exhibited a dress that was longer than she was.
A big smile found a home on Cassidy’s face. “It’s the dress I wanted.” The store had every size except her size, and the sales associate had said they wouldn’t be getting any more in.
“It’s a return, but a couple of the tags are still on it, so likely it wasn’t worn,” said Lena.
Cassidy appraised the denim dress. Denim was her fabric of choice, and she liked the style of the dress so much she would have accepted it without the tags. “I’m going to try it on,” she said, her feet already in progress. She wiggled out of a pair of knit leggings and an oversize T-shirt and came from behind the dining room wall attired in the straight, sleeveless, button-down white outfit. She walked the length of the room with all the spice and flair of a professional model.
“Work it now, girl,” Lena rooted. Holding an invisible microphone, Lena rendered a specific account of Cassidy’s new clothing as Cassidy spun and struck a pose.
“I hope I didn’t miss much of the show,” a smooth tenor rumbled.
A current of alarm sent a shock wave through Cassidy, and she bounced in place, jerking her hand from her hip. Not believing she could be this humiliated for the second time in one day, she looked everywhere but at Trevor.
Lena jacked a brow. “Well, isn’t this a treat!”
Cassidy mustered the nerve and faced Trevor. He was greeting Lena. While the duo exchanged pleasantries, Cassidy forgot her humiliation and secretly admired the Father’s-Day-card image of a dad with a sleeping child in each arm.
“I saw you on TV a few weeks ago,” Lena said. Cassidy had also viewed the local news that day. Trevor had been the guest chef for the cooking segment. “I love how you label yourself a dessert artist instead of a baker. It’s so millennial.” Lena stepped closer to Trevor. “I tried making that triple-berry pie, but I made a mess instead.”
“You’ll do better next time,” he encouraged.
Cassidy drew her mouth into a smirk. If Lena stretched the grin on her face any wider, it would take surgery to correct it.
“So how long have the two of you been friends?” Trevor’s pensive stare was on Cassidy, an obvious invitation for her to join the conversation. She prayed he wasn’t planning to small-talk her to death. The only thing he should be saying to her was, I’m sorry, for the way he sabotaged her privacy this afternoon. Cassidy met his eyes, then steered her gaze away from his, unnerved when their eyes connected, her emotions as sheer as the lace curtains adorning the length of the living room window.
“I’ve known Cassidy since day one of kindergarten,” Lena answered for her. “She was picking her nose”—Cassidy felt the heat of embarrassment kindling under her chin and snaking toward her ears, and she began faking a chain of coughs, but Lena ignored the sound—“and I rescued her with a tissue.”
Cassidy hoped her eyes said, You’re a dead woman, because she was going to kill her best girlfriend.
“Cassidy,” Trevor voiced thoughtfully, “not Cassandra,” and both women plastered him with searching looks. He smiled. It was semicrooked and sexy, and Cassidy wanted to kick her own behind for noticing. “I thought your name was Cassandra,” he said.
Lena’s eyes grew into question marks. Cassidy could certainly understand why Lena would be wondering why a man who’d just let himself into the house was still a stranger. “You two haven’t met before now?” Lena asked.
“Not formally,” Trevor responded. There was an awkward stillness in the room as he looked at Cassidy and she looked at the painting on the wall to the left of him.
Lena, a natural at keeping the fires of conversation burning, merely said, “Oh.”
Trevor’s smaller child yawned, slightly opening her eyes as she squirmed. “Well,” he said, casting a fleeting but friendly look at Cassidy, “I’d better get my girls up to bed.”
More questions piled into Lena’s eyes as she glanced at Cassidy. “Would you like some help?” she asked Trevor.
He turned and started up the stairs. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“That’s for sure,” Lena flirted in a husky singsong, and Cassidy glared at her.
chapter five
I can’t believe you kept this from me,” Lena exclaimed less than a full second after Trevor had disappeared. “I bet you told Dunbar that Trevor was here. You tell him everything.”
“I do not. And for your information, I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I just hadn’t gotten around to telling you. And for precisely this reason”—she fluttered her hands in the air—“I knew you’d go all loco.” Cassidy plopped down on the couch. “By the way, I don’t appreciate you escorting Trevor along the memory lane of my life. Would you like me to tell him how you peed the bed until you were twelve?”
Lena upturned both hands above her shoulders. “Sorry,” she said. “So why is he putting his kids to bed here? And what was up with you? You didn’t say one word to him.” Lena joined Cassidy on the couch as Odessa reentered and put down a tray of refreshments before excusing herself for the night. When Odessa was out of hearing range, Lena spok
e up, fanning herself with her hand. “Trevor sure was checking one of us out, girl, and I’m sorry to say it was not me.”
Cassidy shook her head. At times, she wondered if Lena was mentally stable.
“Please,” Lena went on, “he was trying to be all ‘I’m not looking at her,’ but he was on you, and you know it.”
Cassidy twiddled her thumbs. Yes, she’d been completely cognizant of Trevor’s intense gazes, but not talking about them made them less real and, consequently, less overwhelming.
Lena filled a glass with lemonade. “So are you going to tell me why he’s here?”
Quickly, quietly, and with a face devoid of expression, Cassidy imparted the story. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard Trevor moved in.”
“You know how crazy my shifts can get. I haven’t had time to gossip with anyone from church this week.”
Cassidy fired a peeved look up the stairs. “I’m just glad Brother Monroe’s stay is going to be delimited.” “Delimited” was one of her words from last month.
“What’s delimited mean?” Lena took one of the shortbread cookies from the plate beside the pitcher.
“It means no need to get comfortable because you won’t be staying long.”
“Girl, do you know how many women would love to be living under the same roof as Trevor Monroe?”
It was pathetic. Dozens of women at the church were planning their weddings around Trevor. Cassidy hardly thought him worthy of all the attention he drew. “I guess we should add your name to the list of Trevor-chasers.”
Lena swallowed a swig of lemonade. “I’m not ashamed. I’d be all up on him if I wasn’t talking to Dondre. I told you about him, remember?”
“Um-hmm”—Cassidy crossed her arms—“I remember.”
Lena sampled a chocolate cookie this time, and dark brown crumbs rained onto the napkin perched on her palm just south of her chin. “We had dinner at his apartment last night.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, Mother dearest, that’s all.” Lena’s smile became impish. “Though I ain’t saying I wasn’t tempted to move things from the dining room to the bedroom. The man knows how to push all the right buttons.”