Love on the Rocks

by Pamela Yaye

  “I don’t want you driving across town at this time of night.”

  “It’s not your decision to make,” she snapped, brushing past him. “And frankly, I don’t care what you want.”

  Warrick caught her arm. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry for acting like a jerk. It’s been a stressful day. There are still problems with the houses in New Orleans and I…I lost the contract,” he confessed, lowering his head. “Mr. Kewasi decided to go with another firm.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense.” Frowning, she shook her head. “He had such a good time at the dinner party you threw last month. I even overheard him telling his assistant that signing with Maxim Designs and Architects was a done deal.”

  “I guess he got a better offer.”

  “There’ll be other contracts, better, more lucrative contracts.” His dad had said the same thing, but hearing it the second time didn’t alleviate his feelings of disappointment. It was the first contract he’d lost since becoming interim president and nothing—not Tangela’s kisses or caresses—could coax him out of his funk. The only thing that would placate him would be landing another rich client. And he would, even if it meant working harder. Once he straightened out this mess with Lyndon and signed another million-dollar contract, then he’d propose to Tangela.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Perched on the edge of her wooden desk, relaying an amusing tale about her three-year-old granddaughter, Ines Vargas kept the students in the intermediate Spanish class so entertained no one noticed the class was over. No one except Tangela.

  Observing her classmates, she noted the amused expressions on their faces. Hoping to alleviate the tension in her shoulders, she massaged the painful spot with the balls of her hands. Tangela was sitting in Room 234 at the Language Institute, but her mind was on Warrick. And thinking about the argument they’d had that morning annoyed her afresh.

  “Organic cereal?” he’d asked, frowning at the box. “What happened to the Froot Loops cereal?”

  “I dumped them. I bought you Kashi cereal instead. It has seven whole grains, soy protein—”

  “Tangela, you don’t decide what I eat. I do. I can take care of myself. Got it?”

  Thoroughly annoyed, she’d watched him stomp around the kitchen, yanking open drawers and cupboards like a madman. “Let’s get something straight. You’re my girlfriend. Not my mother, not my dietician and not my wife.”

  Her spoon slipped from her fingers. “Is that right? Then why am I picking up after you, cooking your meals and sleeping here at your request?”

  That had shut him up, but Tangela was on a roll, and she just couldn’t stop. “You want all the privileges of being married but without the commitment. It doesn’t work that way, Warrick.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. Leave my stuff and we’ll be fine.”

  Irked by his tone, she shot him a cold, seething look that she hoped conveyed her disgust. “I’m not your personal maid and it’s time you stopped treating me like one.”

  “What are you talking about? I cleared the dishes last night and I even vacuumed.”

  Head tilted triumphantly to the side, she clapped her hands together in mock approval. “So, you turned on the dishwasher! Big deal. Do you expect me to give you a prize every time you do something around the house?”

  “I’m not the only one reaping the rewards in this relationship. You’d still be driving around in that bucket you called a car if I hadn’t cosigned for you to get your Lexus luxury sedan. And I didn’t hear you complaining when I paid off your Visa credit card, either.”

  Later that day, their argument was still playing in her mind. Angry that he’d given her the cold shoulder this morning when she’d tried to kiss him goodbye, she wondered how long it would take before things blew over. Was he punishing her because she’d argued with him? Or because she’d made plans to go away this weekend with her girlfriends? Whatever the reason, he was acting distant, and she was sick of it.

  At times Warrick was moody and short-tempered, but she was perceptive enough to know his frustrations had nothing to do with her. They stemmed from his problems at work. After a fairy-tale-like climb to the top, he’d received one setback after another since returning to New Orleans. First, Mr. Kewasi had signed with another firm, then he’d discovered Lyndon wasn’t paying his workers and now his deal with a Paris-based company was in jeopardy. Another trip to France was in the works, and although Tangela only had a short break between flights, she was going to join him. It was a long trip for five days, but she had a feeling Warrick would need some cheering up.

  When class ended, Tangela decided to stop in at Krueger’s. Her quest for health and wellness was a personal decision and she had no right to cram her opinions or her flax-seed bread down Warrick’s throat. Her boyfriend was a really great guy. Better than most, she admitted to herself, grabbing a cart and pushing it into the frozen-food section. He made her feel safe, and for a girl with no parents, no roots and no history, that was an incredible feeling. She could search the whole world, from the streets of Montreal to Mozambique, and she’d never find a man who loved her like Warrick did. Despite his youth, he typified grace, charm and what it meant to be a gentleman in this screwed-up, crazy world. He opened doors, picked up the check and held out chairs. Not because it was expected of him or because that’s how he’d been taught, but because he wanted her to feel special, cherished, wholly and thoroughly adored.

  Hustling down the aisles, humming along with the Ashanti song playing, Tangela wondered if she’d have enough time to whip up a pot of gumbo when she got home. Warrick was working late, but she wanted to have a good, hearty meal waiting for him when he got in.

  As she exited the grocery store, carrying a load of plastic bags, she spotted Sage’s sleek Lexus pull up to the curb. Tangela felt her shoulders tense. Things had been strained between them ever since Sage and Cashmere barged into her apartment.

  Cell phone pressed to her ear, her beloved hobo bag dangling from her slender wrist, Sage emerged from the car with the elegance of Grace Kelly. Her tweed suit and red pumps gave her star-power. Slapping the phone shut, she waved and came around the car. “I didn’t even know you were in town. Where’ve you been hiding?”

  “I had a three-day layover in Miami. I got back on Friday.”

  “The gang came over last night. Why didn’t you come?”

  “I had other plans.”

  “Oh, okay. I thought maybe you were still mad at me. Are you?”

  Tangela forced herself to answer the question. “I was, but I’m not anymore.”

  “Do you want to stop in at Heaven Sent and share a dessert?” Sage asked, motioning with a finger to the bakery up the street. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about and I have a serious craving for rum cake.”

  Deciding to take advantage of the balmy weather, they selected a table on the patio, placed their orders and chatted about their jobs while they waited for their dessert. The scent of freshly baked apple pie carried on the breeze and Tangela’s mouth watered. Ignoring her sudden hunger pangs, she said, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “It’s about Warrick.”

  “Not this again,” she groaned, shaking her head. “I’m sick of—”

  “Girl, I’m sorry. I had no right to say what I did. I shouldn’t have said those things about Warrick or called you desperate. I was just scared you’d get hurt again.”

  Tangela felt her mouth fall open. Sage—her opinionated, tell-it-like-it-is best friend was being supportive? Convinced lightning was about to strike, she glanced up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. “What brought on this sudden change of heart?”

  “We all make mistakes, and I’m no different. I wasn’t exactly honest about who I was when I met Marshall, but he found it in his heart to forgive me. I wanted to say something sooner, but let’s face it, you’re not the easiest person to talk to.”

  “Why do you say things like that?” she
asked, glancing around the patio to ensure no one was listening. “I have high standards and there’s nothing wrong with that. I expect people to be honest and trustworthy and if they’re not it’s—”

  “‘Arrivederci,’ right?” Sage took a long sip of her drink before she continued. “As soon as someone messes up, you show them the door. In your perfect little world there’s no room for error. But no one’s infallible, Tangela. Everyone screws up. Some more than others. Look at all the famous, high-powered executives going to jail. Do you think they set out to ruin their families’ lives? They didn’t. They’re just like us. Good people who made some bad choices.”

  Tangela remained mute. Was Sage right? Could she be sabotaging her relationships by having unrealistic expectations?

  “You’ll never believe what I heard Warrick say last night. I was in the laundry room sorting the clothes after dinner, and I overheard him tell the guys he couldn’t go to Tijuana over the May long weekend. When they ribbed him about being on a short leash, he said he wasn’t going to screw things up with you this time. Warrick truly loves you, girl, and he doesn’t want to lose you again.”

  “You really think so?”

  “That man would dive under a plane for you,” Sage said with an easy laugh.

  “I don’t know about all that. All we seem to do these days is fight.”

  “Tangela, you’ve got it in your mind that relationships are all flowers and candy and twenty-four hours of romance, but love is hard work. Over time, the initial excitement of falling in love wears off, but the sense of being in a close, nurturing relationship is a far more powerful feeling. Marshall drives me crazy sometimes, and the Lord knows he’s tight with his money, but there’s no one in this world I’d rather be married to.”

  “But we’ve been back together for months and he hasn’t once mentioned getting engaged. What’s he waiting for?”

  “You can’t expect Warrick to do things on your schedule. Love doesn’t work that way.”

  Now more than ever, Tangela needed her best friend to give it to her straight, but Sage was preaching love, forgiveness, patience. Three months ago, getting back with Warrick had seemed like the right thing to do, but now that the excitement had worn off and reality had set in, she wasn’t so sure. Being Mrs. Warrick Carver was a dream she’d had for the last seven-plus years. It wasn’t the money, or the penthouse or even the title that she coveted. It was going to bed and waking up every morning knowing that she was part of a family, knowing that for the rest of his life she’d have Warrick’s love and the love of their children.

  Tangela considered asking him point-blank about their future. She’d done that once before, back when they were living together and things had turned ugly. Three years later, and she still remembered the fury in his eyes and the sharp timbre of his voice. “How’s Cashmere?” she asked. “She called me a few weeks ago, but I haven’t gotten around to calling her back.”

  “We should all go for mani-pedis tomorrow. Cashmere’s in wedding mode, but I think I can convince her to put away the checklist long enough to hang out with her girls.”

  “What? Cashmere’s engaged? To who?”

  “Theo, of course.”

  “But they haven’t been together long. Has it even been six months?”

  Two of her coworkers had shown up to work last week sporting diamond rings and now Cashmere was engaged to a man she’d met four months ago. Hearing the news of her friend’s sudden engagement made Tangela jealous. Tasting her hot chocolate, she decided in her heart that before the week was over, she was going to talk to Warrick about their future.

  Hands clasped, buoyant smiles on their faces, Tangela and Warrick exited the balcony and followed the throng of theater lovers into the lobby. Intent on seeing, Lord, Why Me? Tangela had called Warrick at work and asked him to meet her at the Charleston Cultural Center. The soul-stirring music and the over-the-top antics of the characters had kept the sold-out audience entertained and Warrick had laughed louder than anyone else. “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come? The play is so funny!”

  “Yeah, that grandfather is a trip. I almost fell over when he started doing the Cupid Shuffle! I’m having a nice time, Tangela. After the week I’ve had, I needed a good laugh.” Pecking her cheek, he worked his hand over her shoulders, then rested it casually on her lower back. “Would you like something from the concession stand?” he asked, moving his lips across her ear. “They have those veggie burgers you like so much.”

  Giggling, she tried to pull away. “Okay, I’ll have one with a diet soda and some—”

  “Warrick, is that you?”

  Squeezing her boyfriend’s waist, Tangela turned to see who the haughty female voice belonged to. The smile fell from her lips. Mrs. Verda Harris. Although Quinten and Warrick had been friends for years, Tangela didn’t like the obnoxious management consultant and cared even less for his mother.

  “Mrs. Harris, it’s nice seeing you again,” Warrick greeted, kissing her plump cheek. “You remember Tangela, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Harris gave a curt nod in her direction. “I heard the two of you had gotten back together. So when’s the big day?”

  Tangela straightened her spine. She had choice words for the meddlesome old biddy, but before she could speak, Warrick chuckled and said, “We’re not rushing into anything this time around. We’re taking things slow.”

  Dropping his hand, she turned, studying his side profile. Is that what we’re doing? Where was she when they’d had that discussion? She’d thought they were on the fast track to the altar. Or at the very least getting engaged before the end of this year. And what was with the laugh?

  “You’re living together?” Verda probed, her penciled eyebrows raised in disdain. “Again?”

  Smiling down at Tangela, Warrick tightened his hold, bringing her back to his side. “No, not yet, but I definitely want my baby back home with me where she belongs.”

  “Next in line, please,” the teen behind the counter said, beckoning with her hands.

  Warrick stepped forward, leaving Tangela alone with Mrs. Harris.

  “I understand that your mother was in and out of your life.” Verda wore a grim expression. “I can only imagine how traumatic your childhood must have been.”

  Tangela didn’t want to think about the pain, didn’t want to remember all the times she’d gone to bed hungry, cold and alone, but it was impossible to erase the memories of her past. Her mother had suffered from a laundry list of emotional problems and children’s services had finally removed her from the home when she was nine. Her foster mom, Mrs. Claxton, was no better. Dealing with the nurse’s erratic behavior on a daily basis had taught Tangela how to reason, how to negotiate and how to remain calm. And those traits served her well now.

  “Tangela, just because you weren’t raised in a loving home doesn’t mean you should live off a man. In my day and age, a woman would never demean herself by shacking up with someone. Don’t lower your standards for anyone and for God’s sake, have some pride.”

  “I tell Quinten that all the time,” Tangela quipped, looking Mrs. Harris dead in the eye. “I understand men have needs, but strip clubs are just plain nasty.”

  Mrs. Harris’s jaw sagged.

  “We’d better return to our seats,” Warrick said, approaching them. “Intermission’s almost over and I don’t want to miss any of the show.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Harris.” Waving, a sickly sweet smile on her lips, Tangela forced herself not to laugh in the woman’s face. Mrs. Harris stood like a statue, a lost, befuddled look in her eyes. It felt good giving the old biddy a spoonful of her own medicine, but when Tangela sat down in her seat minutes later, she felt her eyes burn with tears.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Baby, what’s the matter? You haven’t said a word since we left the theater.” Warrick pulled into his designated parking space and shut off the engine. Turning to look at her, his face concerned, he put a hand on her leg and squeezed affectionately. “Talk to m
e, honey. I want to know what’s wrong.”

  Tangela stared out the windshield. How could she tell him that what Mrs. Harris said had gotten under her skin? He wouldn’t understand. And if Warrick knew what she’d said to Quinten’s mother, he’d be furious at her. “I’m just tired. Let’s go inside.”

  In the kitchen, while Tangela waited for the kettle to boil, she thought about her conversation with Sage three days earlier. Asking Warrick where he saw their relationship headed shouldn’t be so stressful, but every day she put it off, the harder it was to broach the subject. But she couldn’t go on living like this. She had a great apartment that she hardly saw, and although she had the run of the house, her name wasn’t on the lease and she couldn’t decorate the way she would if they were married.

  Deciding the tea could wait, she opened the fridge and grabbed a beer from the shelf. Tangela twisted off the cap, poured the cold liquid into Warrick’s favorite glass and started down the hall. She wanted to know what her boyfriend was thinking and now was as good a time as any to discuss their future.

  “Warrick, I was hoping we could talk.”

  He stopped flipping channels with the remote. “Uh-oh. What did I do now?”

  Sitting down between his legs, a hand draped casually over his knee, she stared up at him for several moments. It didn’t matter how long they’d been together, she was always awed by his good looks. The depth of his eyes and his killer physique got to her every time. Remaining focused, she parted her lips and forced the question turning in her mind out of her mouth. “Warrick, do we have a future together?”

  “Angie, I wouldn’t be with you if I wasn’t thinking long-term.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. I feel the same way.”

  He smoothed a hand over her hair. “Good, we’re on the same page.”