Driving Heat (19 page)

Byron looked at his youngest brother in amazement. Sometimes he swore that the near-decade age difference between them was akin to their being born on different planets. On the other hand, something to take his mind off Cynthia was almost worth the frustration.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Naw, man.” Barry stretched his long legs in front of him and clasped his fingers behind his head. “Your brother’s got it like that.”

“This woman is buying you clothes, phone, shoes, food, paying when y’all go out, basically taking care of everything but your living space—because your mama and daddy are handling that expense—and that’s a good thing?”

“Of course.” Barry chuckled, slowly shaking his head. “And don’t look at me like there’s something wrong with what I’m doing, like you’re not mad at how I handle my ladies.”

“So there’s several? You’ve got the girl doing all of this for you and she’s not even the only one?”

“Really, dog? You think one woman can handle all this?” Barry swept his hands over six feet and three inches of chiseled perfection.

“I think a woman’s crazy to share her man.”

“You think she knows? I need to hip you to the new school, son.”

“Stop it, please!” Byron put his hands over his face. “You’re killing me!”

“That’s how a man does it in the twenty-first.”

Byron muted the television and turned to face Barry.

“Hey, man! I’m watching that!”

“That might be how some men do it, but not the Carters.”

“Man, don’t come at me like you’re my daddy. I know who I am. Turn the TV back up.”

Byron aimed the remote and turned it off. His look dared the youngest member of this testosterone-heavy clan to protest. Older brother got the respect he demanded.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, and it’s probably going to take a few years and a couple heartbreaks before you come back and thank me. You may not ever appreciate what I’m about to tell you. That’s cool, too. But a real man doesn’t take from a woman, man. It’s the other way around. A real man has too much pride to let a woman give him everything while he gives nothing back, not even exclusive access to his dick. He definitely wouldn’t brag about it. That’s not a man, Barry. That’s an asshole.

“Instead of listening to what society, rappers, and your boys are saying about manhood, you should listen to the man whose roof you sleep under. When it comes to men, and how to be one? Willie Carter is one of the best.”

Barry slowly nodded his head. “I feel you, bro. You’re right.”

Byron reached for the remote to turn on the TV but stopped when Barry stood up. “Real talk running you off?”

“Whatever, man. It’s all good.” He headed to the door. “You coming over for dinner this Sunday?”

Byron joined him at the door. “What’s happening this Sunday?”

Barry shrugged. “Whatever it is has Mama cooking a roast and baking pies.”

“You know I’m coming over for that!” Byron’s phone buzzed. “All right, Barry. Take it easy. And Carter up, okay?”

“Carter up, huh? Man, you’re crazy.”

“Hello?” There was a smile in Byron’s voice as he gave a last wave to his brother and closed the door.

“I apologize for calling.”

“Why would you do that? I’ve been waiting all weekend to hear from you. After we talked, I couldn’t imagine how you’d confront your parents.”

“I didn’t.”

“Hold on, okay?” Byron walked from the living room to Tyra’s closed door. He knocked.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to Brittney. Is Uncle Barry still here?”

“No, he’s gone.”

“And he didn’t say bye?”

“Ten more minutes and you need to go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait till school is over!”

“Then it’s good you’ve only got three more days. Ten more minutes.”

“Okay!”

“Good night, Tyra Lily.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

“Okay, I’m back.”

“So Tyra’s in a single-track system?”

“Yes, both of us prefer it to the four-track schedule.” He closed his door and walked over to the closet. “But we can talk about that some other time. I want to know what happened in Minnesota.” He heard a sigh as he placed the phone on a shelf and stripped down to his boxers. Picking up the phone, he crossed to the bed. “Cynthia?”

“I’m here. So much happened, and is happening . . . I don’t know where to start.”

“Why didn’t you ask your parents about what you heard Friday night?”

“Several reasons, but the main one is that it was Daddy’s birthday. I didn’t want to spoil it. Another is because I need time to digest that whole impossible situation and decide how I want to deal with it.”

“That makes sense. What about Jayden’s father? Did you see him again?”

“No.”

Byron waited for her to continue. She didn’t. “Why do I feel there’s a ‘but’ after that?”

“Probably because of what I didn’t tell you Friday night. Stewart wants to make up for the time he’s lost with his son. He suggested we move to where he lives and work on becoming a family.”

“Becoming a family. What does that mean exactly?”

“He wants to see if it’s possible to get back what we once had, and . . .”

“Let me guess, get married.”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“What you probably don’t want is a man who’s unfaithful, and you know his track record in that department.”

“People can change.”

“All can. Few do.”

“Why this reaction when you so strongly advocated how important it was for Jayden to know his dad?”

“Yes, Jayden knowing his father better, not you. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Any man would be a fool to have an opportunity to make you his wife and not take it.” He waited for her response. None came. “Looks like you’re giving his offer some consideration.”

“Shouldn’t I? For the past eight years, I harbored a huge resentment for what I felt Stewart had done. When Jayden inquired about him, I’d say as little as possible, as fast as I could, and then change the subject.”

“Did you bash his father?”

“No, but I most certainly didn’t praise him either. Besides, when a boy goes a lifetime without seeing his father, he forms a pretty negative opinion on his own. Knowing what I do now, that is something I truly regret, that and the time together they’ve lost that can’t be gotten back.”

“Let me ask you something, Cynthia, and I want you to be honest. Do you still have feelings for this guy?”

There was a moment of silence before she answered. “Before Friday, I thought the only feeling I had for him was anger and disgust. That’s what he saw when we ran into each other at the club. But later, after learning what my mom did and hearing how he felt, how he says he still feels, I don’t know.”

“You talk about what your mom did, but he was a part of it, too. He didn’t have to take their money and lose his son. But that’s what he did. No amount of money in the world could come between . . .”

“Byron? Byron, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“What’s wrong?”

There was a long pause before he answered. “I’ve been dealing with a situation that would make me the biggest hypocrite by finishing that line.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Awhile back, during a disagreement, Tanya hinted that I wasn’t only Tyra’s father, but her son’s as well.” This time it was Byron who thought the call had dropped. “Cynthia, you there?”

“What kind of disagreement would make her say that?”

“She asked for a loan. I said no, which led to her saying she could get more than she’d asked for through the courts, if it were determined that Ricky was mine.”

“Do you believe her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“One, because she told me she’d thrown her boyfriend out when I found out the opposite was true. He left her and supposedly has another girl pregnant. Two, this isn’t the first time she’s sworn I was the boy’s father and then backtracked and said she was lying.”

“Then what would make you a hypocrite? I don’t get it.”

“If she lied once, she could lie twice. I can’t take Tanya’s word for whether or not little Ricky’s my son. I have to know for myself.”

“If he is, then what?”

“Then we go to court, and I prepare for battle. Because Tanya would be sure to make my life a living hell. We don’t need that in our lives.”

“Please don’t say ‘we,’ Byron. I feel bad enough about contacting you as it is, but felt you were owed tonight’s phone call.”

“I won’t disagree with that. If you hadn’t called me, you can best believe I would have definitely made sure we had another conversation.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there’s something you need to know. I’m not Ava’s blood brother. We treat her and Leah like family, but we’re actually not related.”

The following morning, Cynthia’s mood was sullen as she dressed for work. What Byron shared last night had taken her appetite and she still wasn’t hungry this morning. All the way to work she tried to come to terms with how she was feeling and why. By the time she arrived downtown, she was able to admit the truth. Somewhere along the way Byron had gone from being a means to an orgasm to friend, from friend to confidante, and from that to someone she’d imagined in her life for a while, maybe even forever. But for that life to include someone like Tanya? That type of baby mama drama was a little more urban than Cynthia wanted to get. She’d added this reason on top of his familial tie with Leah to the reasons not to see him. But to find out he and Ava aren’t related? And that he is working to put the madness with Tanya behind him? It all meant that there existed a chance for them to be together. The possibility without the probability was almost more than she could handle.

She arrived at work and found a response to one of the actions she’d taken to counter Margo’s attempt at sabotage.
Excellent.
After speaking with Byron last night, and hearing how he’d decided on a proactive approach in dealing with Tanya, Cynthia had had a long talk with herself and had vowed to take back charge of her life. Here, at the agency, was where she would start. Tonight, she’d deal with Stewart.

“Cynthia, your nine-thirty is here.”

She pushed the intercom. “Thanks, Ivy. Find out if she wants something to drink. I need about ten minutes.”

“No problem.”

Cynthia finished the e-mail she was typing and after pressing Send, scrolled through a few others that had been marked important. She responded to a couple that could be handled quickly, categorized the rest based on urgency, and made an appointment for a one o’clock massage. After the meeting scheduled for noon, she felt she’d need it.

Something was wrong. Cynthia knew as soon as the door opened and Leah walked through. She’d never been up for the prize of client congeniality, but over the past several weeks there had been progress. The week of Lance’s birthday, when Cynthia had actually expected what was being shown right now, Leah had surprised her by opening up and sharing more about her brother than had ever happened in previous sessions.

Cynthia closed her office door. “I would say good morning, but it seems for you that might not be accurate.”

“Where do you want me to sit?” No greeting, no eye contact.

“Why don’t we sit on the couch?” Cynthia noted Leah’s empty hands. “You didn’t want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

“I don’t want nothing except to get this over with.”

“For that to happen it would help for you to open up about why you’re so unhappy right now.”

“Why do I have to tell you what’s going on in my life? Who are you to want to get all up in my shit, when I don’t know your business? Huh?”

Cynthia prided herself on the calm demeanor she maintained while her insides were screaming.
Does she know that I slept with the uncle who isn’t really her uncle but plays the part? Who told her? I do not need this to blow up in my face right now!

In the time it took for her to gather her iPad and coffee from her desk and walk to the sitting area on the room’s other side, Cynthia had gathered herself and decided on a simple strategy with Leah: professional, courteous, unperturbed. Starting with the expletive and insolent attitude she’d not address. She’d handle Leah with kid gloves at least until she learned what this client knew and act accordingly. This moment sealed the certainty of last night’s decision. There was a reason for the just-incorporated rule regarding clients, families, and relationships.

And this was it.

Cynthia looked at Leah, who was still standing by the desk. “Would you like to join me?” Leah took a long, soft breath and looked from the floor to the window. Cynthia looked closely and thought her client’s eyes were a little bright.
Is this a delayed reaction to the birthday?

She continued to wait. Leah continued to stand.

“If you’d like, you can sit and I can work during your hour. Not only can I not make you talk, I wouldn’t want to hear anything that was forced from you. Keeping you out of the judicial system is what brought you here. However, that isn’t my only goal.

“I didn’t grow up the way you did. And the way of life for teenagers has changed drastically in just ten, fifteen years—social media, texting, all kinds of pressure to look fabulous and have it all together. But one thing we have in common that doesn’t change much no matter where you live or what you do or how you grew up . . . is making that transition from girl to woman. One of the ways we know we’ve reached a level of maturity is how we treat each other and the respect we have for other women.”

Leah continued to stare out the window. But her body was less rigid and her face had softened. She was listening.

“When it comes to being female there are only three, four, five things top that we deal with: men, money, menstruation, men, family, career, and men. That’s about it.”

“Why’d you mention men so many times?”

“Because most of the problems not mentioned in what I call the top five are the result of a man. When I was around your age, it was a very difficult time. I’d just had Jayden and was navigating life as a single parent, something I never expected to do. Two friends I met in college and a third woman who joined the circle a few years later kept me from losing hope altogether. Being able to talk to someone, whether a counselor like myself or just a good friend who means you well, can make a huge difference in how you feel.

“I’m not here to snoop around your personal life. I’m here so that if there is something that’s bothering you or making you sad or something you don’t understand, you have a safe, confidential place to share it.”

After a long moment, when it seemed clear that Leah did not want to talk, Cynthia returned to her desk and activated her laptop. After the session with Leah she had a phone conference scheduled with the mother and parole officer of a teen who’d failed a drug test. Now was a good time to take one last look at the information she’d compiled last night, along with the association and agency verbiage. This was the first of several steps in Cynthia’s offensive strategy to become the agency’s director, and to ensure that whatever unscrupulous actions used to undermine her work could be countered with the truth.

“It’s about a man.”

Cynthia looked over to see that Leah had moved to the window. She stood there, her face partially hid as she gazed at the scene below. Ten minutes had passed and so caught up had Cynthia been in mental preparation, she hadn’t heard her move. “I’m sorry, Leah. What did you say?”

“You can’t tell anybody what I tell you, right?”

“That is correct, as long as there is no potential harm to you or others. If it has to do with safety, well-being, or in some cases, the legal system, then that confidentially is waived.”

She waited. Leah shifted her weight from one leg to the other but said nothing. Cynthia turned back to her notes. She felt good about the upcoming meetings, so she clicked on a priority folder and began checking mail. Another five minutes went by.

She heard Leah moving but didn’t look up.

Leah slumped into the nearest chair. “Okay, here’s what happened.”

Cynthia closed the laptop. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve been seeing this dude, Red. He’s one of my friend’s older brothers and we’d kick it when I went to her house. He’s twenty-five.”

Leah looked at Cynthia as though she expected a reprimand. Cynthia had a definite response to the comment but wisely remained silent. “Been there, done that, got the son to prove it,” would not have been appropriate.

“I’ve known him for a long time, used to see him with his girlfriends and everything. He used to treat me like a little sister. But he knew I liked him.”

“He asked me over and over to let him be with me. But I always said no because of all his other girlfriends. He promised that if I got with him, he’d leave all of them alone. I knew he was lying.” Her voice dropped. “But finally I didn’t care.”

“Sometimes love is like that.” Cynthia’s voice was soft, as Leah’s had been.

“I knew he was lying.”

Cynthia watched Leah struggle to fight back the tears. She lost. In that moment, it was difficult for her to maintain the professional distance that was recommended. The past weekend’s events had brought up memories buried long ago, of a young girl much like Leah: hurt, angry, confused.

Please God, don’t let her be pregnant.
“What did he lie about?”

“Saying he wouldn’t be with other girls.”

“He cheated on you?” She nodded. “Are you on a contraceptive?” Another nod from Leah. From Cynthia, a silent sigh of relief. “How long have you been sexually active?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

“Last night I was over at his house. He got a text, then told me he had some business to handle and that his sister would take me. So I’m, like, cool, no problem. Me and his sister are driving down the street when I see this girl go past us that I recognize, headed toward their house. It’s this other girl who I know likes him. So I asked his sister to stop and she wouldn’t. We get to the light and I jump out, and go back to the house.”

Cynthia leaned forward, her elbows on the desk and chin resting on her hands. Casual. Comfortable. The way she wanted Leah to feel. “Was the girl there?”

“Sitting in the very same spot I’d just left, the blanket was probably still warm from my ass laying on it. Guess that little trick was the business he had to handle.

“He came at me for two years, swore that I was the only one he wanted.” She shook her head, angrily swiped at new tears following the trail old ones had traveled. “But he told me to leave, and let her stay.”

“I’m sorry he did that. What would you like to have happen now?”

“Nothing, because I don’t care about him anymore. She can have him.”

“Are you sure about that? He’s your very first love.”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“Without trust, it’s impossible to have a successful relationship.” She didn’t answer, but she was listening. “Leah, perhaps this is a chance to focus on your needs and desires. You want to fulfill your brother’s dream of going to college. It’s not too late to do that. You need only a few more credits to get your diploma. We can still get you into a community college, and with a respectable GPA you can easily transfer to a four-year university. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. You deserve a man who can appreciate the amazing young woman that you are.”