Sweet Little Lies

by Michele Grant

  “I’ll call you later,” he announced before letting himself out and striding down the walkway. He didn’t look back, climbing into his navy blue Land Rover and pulling away.

  That was how Grown Man Steven made an exit. And I didn’t like it at all.

  19

  I Don’t Need This Right Now

  Steven—Sunday, October 19, 4:12 p.m.

  Starting my car and driving away from Christina’s house, I had to wonder if I was just a glutton for punishment. My life was exactly as I wanted it to be right now. Professionally, I was flying. Personally, I was…unencumbered. And I was happy that way. I had neither time nor interest in tap dancing around the dating scene. I hated dating. Over the years, I had become a pro at selecting women who were interested in keeping things fun, light, and superficial. Easy come, easy go. So why this need to insert Christina Brinsley into my life? This was the one and only woman to touch (and break) my heart. What was I doing getting involved with her on any level?

  Okay, sure. Christina was fine, smart, accomplished, beautiful, and self-reliant. All things to admire and want in a significant other. But she was emotionally still wounded. I wasn’t sure she was any more healed today than she was five years ago. And that didn’t bode well.

  By the time I passed through the Caldecott Tunnel on my way to Stefani’s house in Walnut Creek, I had definitely begun to doubt my own intelligence. Seriously, did I need this right now? I punched on the satellite radio in time to hear Stevie telling me “don’t you worry ’bout a thing.” I guess we’ll see about that. But I listened to some old-school R & B the rest of the fifteen-minute ride.

  Stefani married a marketing executive for a large retailer and they had transferred out to the Bay Area a little over a year ago. I was happy to have her near and just as happy to swing by and grab a home-cooked meal from time to time. Though I was a fairly accomplished cook, I didn’t see the point of doing it all that often for only one person. Consequently, more often than not, on a Sunday afternoon I found myself pulling up outside her neat, slate blue, two-story home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the East Bay.

  Before I could even get up the front path, she swung the door open.“What’s wrong?”

  I smiled.“Disturbance in the twin force?”We’d always had an uncanny way of knowing when the other was upset, even over the smallest of things.

  “You might as well spill it.”There was no hiding the fact that Stef and I were twins. Both in action and appearance, we often came across as a matched set. She and I were both tall with slightly square jaws and the green eyes that seemed to skip a generation in the Williams family. She also wore her hair long. Though I worked out to keep a little bulk on my frame, Stefani stayed willowy and thin. Again, luck of the genetic draw. We had the same skin tone, somewhere between a beige and a caramel, and we both had the same impatient streak. Right now, hers was showing.“Just tell me.”

  I said two words as I walked in the door.“Christina Brins-ley.”

  “The bitter bitch who broke my baby brother’s heart?” Okay, I guess she remembered who Christina was.

  “Whoa there, sis! ‘Bitch’ is a strong word. My heart was only bruised a little and you are only seven minutes older. Chill with that.” I reached out to give her a hug. Beyond her, I looked through the neatly decorated living room to see Marcus outside on the patio, standing over a grill. “Dare I hope your husband is flaming up a thick slab of red meat for his favorite brother-in-law?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. What about the Brinsley bi—girl?”

  “What up, Marcus?” I raised my voice and waved. He smiled and waved the grill tongs at me. Marcus was a good, solid brother. A shade under six feet with an eagle eye, a ready smile, and generally pleasant disposition, he was one of the most genuine guys I’d ever met. Marcus had the distinction of being a truly nice guy. He wasn’t flamboyant or flashy, didn’t fall back or push forward, just a solid man’s man who adored the ground my sister walked on. I was glad they’d found each other. He was the kind of guy I would’ve hung out with even if he hadn’t married my twin.

  “Steak, bro!” he called out with a smile on his face.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” I smiled back. Stefani was a vegetarian and tended to frown on the “slaughter of animals for humans’ conspicuous consumption,” but Marcus put his foot down. He allowed her to decorate the house in twenty variations of what all looked like tan to me, and she allowed him fish and chicken with rare passes for red meat.

  “Steven! I can still serve you a tofu burger, you know. Why are you bringing up that woman’s name?” Both Stefani and I tended to get emotional, but she was all dramatic with hers. I tended to play my cards a little closer to the vest; she laid them out for all to see.

  “Christina is doing a story on high-speed rail and came to see me at the university a week ago. I took her on a tour of Chi-Wind earlier today; I’m just coming from her house now.”

  She squinted her eyes at me.“Please, please, please tell me you are not getting involved with her on a personal level again. Please tell me you are keeping things professional.”

  I paused and then turned to walk into her monochromatic kitchen. Reaching into the fridge, I pulled out a beer and set it on the countertop.

  “At least tell me you haven’t already unzipped and fallen on top of that woman in a week?!”

  “You’re gonna have to stop calling her ‘that woman’ and yes, I stayed zipped.” That was true—I had stayed zipped. Christina on the other hand…well, some things a sister, even a twin sister, didn’t need to know.

  “Steven, I swear to God …do not let that—her—back in. You spent five days with her five years ago, and she completely spun your head around. Just don’t get involved. You don’t need this.”

  I sighed.“I know. I really do know. I don’t need this. Not at all. I’m not even sure I want this. Whatever this is. But something about her, Stef …she attracts me, you know? There’s a connection that hasn’t gone away in all these years. I have to at least try to get her out of my system.”

  “Yeah, people say that about crack, too. It rarely works out well.” Her tone was brittle and harsh. Not good. She was generally a sunny-outlook person.

  I turned toward the back patio and held up the beer bottle in the universal “want one?” gesture to Marcus. He nodded. I retrieved another beer before I answered. “I know you don’t like her because of the things I told you about her back in the day. And it’s true, she and I didn’t part on the best terms. But that’s water under the bridge.”

  “Is it? Or are you trying to prove something?”

  She had a valid point.“I don’t know. But, Stef, you’re going to have to try to be civil.”

  “Why? Why do I have to try to be anything at all? If you’re just scratching an itch, I don’t need to know anything about it. I don’t need to see her.”

  “She’s coming to the fundraiser …with me.”

  “Dammit, Steven!” She smacked me upside the head with the back of her hand.

  “Hey!” It hurt a little bit.

  Marcus stuck his head in the door. “Leave the boy alone and let him bring me my beer, woman.”

  “Marcus, mind your business,” she replied.

  “My beer is my business and you’re keeping it from me. Come on, Steven. She can lecture you anytime—come take a look at these porterhouse I got sizzling.”

  I lowered my voice.“It’ll be fine, Stef.You’ll see. I’ve got it all planned out. No need to worry about me.” I kissed her forehead and picked up the beer.

  “That’ll be the day,” she muttered under her breath as I walked away.

  Everything was going to be just fine.

  20

  More of a Lady

  Christina—Saturday, October 25, 1:36 p.m.

  “Christina, just try the pink dress on,” my mother said from outside the dressing room in Macy’s.

  “Mom, when was the last time you saw me wear baby pink?”
I asked from behind the door. Once every few months, Mom and I came to the Macy’s at Union Square for a mother-daughter shopping pilgrimage followed by lunch on Nob Hill. It was inevitably a long and somewhat trying day. I loved my mother, adored her in fact, but we did not have the same tastes, ideas, or opinions. Especially not about me.We did not agree on what was best for me at all.

  Joanna Brinsley believed that a career was what you had until you caught a husband. So my three failed attempts to make it to the altar, coupled with my continued rise at the network, completely exasperated her.

  “Pink is such a feminine color, Christina—it wouldn’t hurt you to soften up your image a little bit. Men like women who aren’t afraid to show softness and vulnerability.”

  Behind the door, I rolled my eyes and sent up a prayer for patience. This was how it started. It was easier to give in and try on an overly girlish, pink knee-length sheath dress with pleated ruffles than have her start the Joanna Brinsley Lecture Series on “How Christina Can Catch and Keep a Man.” I set aside the chocolate, dolman-sleeve sweaterdress that I already knew I was buying and pulled the pink monstrosity over my head. Turning back to look at my reflection in the mirror, I bit back a groan. All I needed was a string of pearls and some matching ballet flats and I was ready to join lunching soccer moms in Pleasanton.Yes, there’s an actual suburb of San Francisco called Pleasanton. And yes, it’s quite pleasant there.

  “Well, let me see it!” she said excitedly.

  Gritting my teeth, I opened the dressing room door.“Here it is.”

  “It’s perfect.” She clapped. “Maybe with some pearls and the right shoes?”

  “Ballet flats?” I asked sardonically.

  “Christina, you cannot catch a man in flats. How many times have I told you that? Some slingbacks with a nice heel to them should do it. Do you have a pair?”

  “I do.” I knew better than to argue. The pink dress would be worn once at a family gathering and then donated to a charity, never to be seen again. I had the drill down pat. I also knew how to deflect before she went in search of a matching pink cardigan. “Mom, shouldn’t we get your formal for the breast cancer awareness banquet coming up?”

  She lit up in the way that I remembered. It took so little to make her happy.“Yes, if you’re sure we’re done with you.”

  “What more could I need?” I asked, tongue in cheek.

  She gave me a look. “I’m not completely clueless. I know you don’t love the dress, but it will grow on you. Some things I actually know more about than you, Miss Thing.”

  I had to laugh.“Did you just call me Miss Thing?”

  She giggled.“I must have heard it somewhere, but it suits you.”

  I resisted the eye-roll and shut the door. “Let me change and we’ll go up a floor to find your formal.”

  “It’s so nice when we spend a little girl time together, Christina. We should do this more often.”

  “We should,” I agreed. With a smile, I kept that sentiment for the next hour and a half while we shopped and eventually found her a perfect ensemble for her event. The sentiment held as we headed to the top floor to grab a meal from The Chees-cake Factory. Too hungry to go to Nob Hill. But it started sliding away as we sat perusing menus. She launched a sneak attack.

  “So did you call Kenneth?”

  “Who?”

  “Kenneth, the young man I wanted you to meet.”

  “No, Mom, I didn’t.”

  “Why not, Christina? You are not getting any younger, and I just saw this study about single, educated black women and the shrinking pool of suitable men.”

  I prayed silently that Jesus would appear in the form of two extra-strength Tylenol and a shot of vodka for me right this minute. Like I hadn’t read the articles and blog posts? She had forwarded at least two to me in the last month alone. What could I do or say to get out of this conversational wormhole? Swinging for the fences, I announced,“Mom, I’m already seeing somebody.”

  “What? Who? Not that Dante character who was so crass?”

  “No, Mom, not Dante Esteban. His name is Steven Williams and he’s a professor at Bayside University.”

  “Oh, a professor! Tenured?”

  “No, he’s a little young for that.” Oops, I let too much slip out there.

  Her eyes narrowed.“How young is he?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  She tilted her head to the side, considering.“That’s not too bad, actually. Maybe a younger man with a little swagger is what you need.”

  “Seriously, did you just say ‘swagger’?”

  “I saw it on an Oprah rerun. She was interviewing Jay-Q.”

  “Jay-Z?”

  “You know who I meant. Anyway, maybe if you had a man who was more of a man, you would be more of a lady.”

  My mouth opened and closed twice on that one.“I need a man to show me how to be a lady?”

  “Don’t get dramatic. I just mean someone you can’t take the lead with, or control, or walk over.”

  “Is that what you think happened in the past?”

  “Christina, let’s not get into all that unpleasantness.”

  “No, you brought it up. Are you telling me that the reason Cedric married his high school sweetheart, Perry turned out to be gay, and Jay /David turned out to be a pathological liar is because I wasn’t enough of a lady?” I could physically feel my blood pressure rising.

  “A man needs to feel like a man, Christina.That’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

  I blinked at her twice.

  “I used that double blink on your father, Christina. It doesn’t work on me. I’m sorry you don’t agree with my assessment. If it makes you feel any better, you can just tell yourself that I don’t know what I’m talking about, like you usually do.”

  “Mom, I do not.”

  “Honey, you most certainly do think your mother is a flighty, flaky woman, but that’s all right. I love you in spite of your flaws.”

  I wasn’t sure if I’d just been slapped or stroked.“Umm.”

  “There comes a time when children think they’ve learned all they can from their parents.They’re wrong, but they think it anyway.”

  I kinda did think that, but had no idea she realized it. It gave me pause to realize that my mother was smarter than I thought she was.“Well now…”

  “That’s neither here nor there. I want to hear everything. How did you meet Steven? Where is he from? What does he look like? I know he’s handsome—you like them handsome. Who are his people and when are you bringing him around? What did you wear on your first date? I hope you curled your hair.”

  Now this was the Joanna I was used to. I signaled the waiter we were ready to order while I gave her an abridged and edited (okay, somewhat fabricated) version of how, where, and why I came to know Steven Williams.

  21

  Just Tell Me How It Works

  Steven—Wednesday, October 30, 4:47 p.m.

  I was in my office at the foundation with Christina on the speakerphone. I hadn’t seen her since the day we toured the foundation several days back. I was keeping a professional distance while getting to know her a little bit again.

  It was slow going; each of us was wary of the other. She didn’t trust men in general and I did not trust her, specifically. It made for a lot of guarded conversation. On her part, Christina made it clear she was interested in getting the story and getting our freak on. I was curious to see what (if anything) else was there. It would be interesting to see which of us got what we wanted first.

  “Did you find the financial reports yet?” she asked me.

  I rifled through the folders on the top of my desk.“I found the public statements we released to contributors, but I haven’t found the detailed statements to back these numbers up yet. I’m just going to ask Lance to explain it to me.”

  “Well, good luck with that. He kinda talked around the details when I tried to interview him. I couldn’t get past the spin.”

  “Okay, we
ll—he plays wary with the press, so don’t worry about it. Did you get the information on the Arizona plans?” We had been working to put together an overview of each state’s future rail plans and how they were being consolidated for a nationwide program.This consolidation was part of what my foundation was funded to do.

  “Yes, I got them, but some of this is too much engineer-speak for me. I’ll need you to translate some of the technical terms into phrases the general public will understand.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Maybe you can swing by this evening and do that for me?”

  I smiled.“Is that what you want me to come by and do for you? Really, Christina?”

  She sighed.“I’m just saying. We have a lot of work to do; you might as well come by so we can do it together.”

  I laughed. “Are you making these double entendres on purpose?” I wasn’t about to fall into the sex trap with Christina. I knew once we went there again, it would be hard to focus on anything else.

  “What do you think?” Her voice was silky.

  “I think you’re playing games again. Listen, I know what you want. Please believe I have every intention of giving it to you. But on my timeline, in my way, okay?”

  “So I see. Might I remind you that you are the one who wanted some sort of relationship? It’s hard to relate without actually seeing each other.”

  She almost spat the word “relationship” like a curse, confirming for me that slower was better. “I think we’re relating just fine. Not everything’s a sprint, Christina. Some things are cross-country endurance.”

  “Sounds painful, tiring, and tedious.”

  She was trying to provoke a fight. Looking up, I saw Lance approaching my office.“Also really great when you get to the finish line. Listen, Lance is on his way in, so I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Will you see me later?”