Game of Hearts (3 page)

****

"No, no, don't do this," I pleaded as the car stalled at the light. The digital clock clicked over to three o'clock. I turned the key with no luck. "Great."

Vehicles honked as they flew by. I tried starting it again and prayed a miracle would happen. Still nothing. A black truck sped past, music blasting out the open windows. The driver honked and waved his middle finger at me.

"Yeah, I got stuck here on purpose to tick you off," I blurted. Bass drums still pounded in my ears. "I have absolutely nothing better to do with my time but find ways to make your life miserable."

The truck drove out of sight. I called my auto club,
and
then climbed from the car. I lifted the hood of the 1993 Honda and stood staring. My knowledge of cars was limited—you put the key in, you fill it with gas, and it goes. I had no idea what I was looking at. Frustrated, I walked around and kicked the front driver's side tire.

"If that works, let me know," a voice said from behind. A tall, muscular man in jeans and a black tee shirt approached.

My heart stopped. Brandon. Those deep brown eyes were unmistakable. I prayed he didn't recognize me. I had my hair pulled back in a braid, and my floral skirt and red blouse looked much better than the sweatpants and windbreaker he'd met me in. Also today the sun shone, and I had no cake on top of my head.

"What's the trouble?"

"I don't…" I choked on fumes as a delivery van passed. "I don't know. It just stopped."

It had been two weeks since we'd met, and he was just as handsome as I remembered. The tee shirt stretched across his back as he leaned over my car. My heart beat faster. He sure knew how to wear a pair of jeans. I brushed sweat from above my upper lip.

Stop it! the angel over my left shoulder whispered. Remember, you're a Christian woman.

Yeah, but she ain't dead. The devil on my right shoulder always got me into trouble. I wished she'd leave me alone.

I jumped when Brandon spoke. "Crank the engine," his deep voice ordered as he leaned
farther
under the hood.

I crawled into the car and tried the key. The vehicle choked and sputtered, but would go no further. I watched Brandon through the slit beneath the hood as he twisted and turned things in the engine. He hollered for me to try again. Still nothing.

Brandon walked up to the car door. "I think you might need a new fuel pump. It'll run you a couple hundred."

"That's all I need," I muttered under my breath.

"I might be able to do the repairs," he offered. "I've got some experience working on cars."

"How much would you charge?"

"You pay for the parts, and let me take you to dinner." He cocked his head to one side.

 
Inwardly I preened at the invitation, until reason took hold. He might be handing me a line. I didn't have much experience with men, since I hadn't gone on many dates in college and had married Michael shortly after. If Brandon behaved anything like my ex-husband—a conceited, lazy womanizer—I couldn't care less about the request, no matter what type of food might be involved.

"I'm new to town." Brandon rocked back on his heels. "I don't know a lot of people here. Besides, you're one pretty lady."

My insides trembled as I envisioned being alone with this man. What would we talk about? I'd make a fool of myself. "I've already called the auto club, and I have my own mechanic, but thanks anyway. Besides, I don't make a habit of going out with men I don't know."

"Very well." He glanced around. "We need to move your car out of the middle of the road before you get hit and end up with more problems than a fuel pump. Put it in neutral and turn the steering wheel sharp to the right. We'll take the car into the parking lot across the way. I'll push."

I put the car in gear while he got behind and pushed with his hands on the trunk. A blue Buick stopped, and the passenger got out to help. Within a minute or two my car sat parked in the lot.

I rolled down the window. "Thanks for your help." The other man gave me a wave and walked back to his car.

Brandon leaned over the window with one arm on the car. "No problem. By the way, what church do you go to?"

"How do you know I go to church?"

"The cross around your neck."

"Oh." I reached up and touched the pendant. It had been a gift from my mother before she'd taken off with the mailman for parts unknown. "Oceanview Methodist."

"I've been looking for a place of worship. Maybe I'll see you there." His dark eyes sparkled mischievously. "By the way, you look as good without the cake as you did with it."

****

"I know, I know, Tommy. I'm late." I rushed past Thomas Vance, owner of Vance's Auto Sales, the largest used car dealer in the area. The clock over my desk read five past four. "My car broke down."

"We need to talk." Tommy motioned with his finger for me to follow him into his office. He stood at five foot six, but acted ten feet tall when it came to lording over his employees. I would have told him years ago where to put his toupee, but I needed the job.

"I don't usually take time off," I argued once the door closed. "And this was a school thing."

"It's got nothing to do with you being late." Tommy sat on the edge of his desk. One foot remained on the floor, the other dangled. An intense glare flashed in his eyes. "I need to cut your hours. We don't need you here full-time when things are slow."

A large thud landed in the pit of my stomach. "I need the money. I've got kids to take care of. I need the insurance."

"I know. I'm talking about dropping you down to three days. I'll keep your health insurance for now, but it's the best I can do."

"I can't afford to lose two days of work."

"I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you." Tommy walked around his desk to the high-backed chair three sizes too large for him. "Maybe you can find something else to offset the loss for a while until things pick back up." He gestured toward the door. I was being dismissed.

Nausea overcame me. Things were tight already. How would I pay my bills now?

"Deb, phone call, line one," the receptionist announced when I walked from Tommy's office.

I picked it up. "This is Deborah Zimmerman. How may I help you?"

"Ms. Zimmerman, this is Roy at Sam's Auto Fix. You were right, your car does need a fuel pump. It'll run you $625.00."

After I agreed to the repairs, I slammed down the phone.

"Darn you, Michael. This wouldn't be a problem if you'd do what you're supposed to do." I fought to keep tears from coming, but it did no good. I slapped a hand across my eyes. If Michael would catch up on the three years back child support, I'd be fine. Why can't they force him to get a job?

I grabbed a tissue and raised my eyes to the ceiling. "God, a lightning bolt in Michael's butt would sure make me feel better right about now."

 

The windshield wipers swiped across the glass. Sarah stared out the window of the car, only giving me nods of her head or grunts for answers. The silence annoyed me. I'd called everyone I knew, putting out feelers for a new job or something part-time for extra money. So far no luck, which seemed to be the only kind I've had lately.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you anything for school. The car set me back quite a bit."

"It's okay." Sarah sulked. "I understand."

"Too bad, because I don't. I'm not sure why we're being tested right now, but there's got to be a reason."

"Being tested? I thought it was called being poor."

I pulled the Honda in front of Scarlett's two-story, four thousand square foot Versailles-style home. Rachel's minivan pulled in behind me. Her daughter Kendra stepped down from her mom's vehicle. The crisp whiteness of her shoes told me they were new. More guilt set in.

Even though I'd seen Scarlett's house more times than I could remember, its beauty still took my breath away. A white stone pathway led up to a door encasing beveled glass that displayed two etched white lilies. The immaculate deep green grass accented the soft pink cyclamen flowers along the front of the house.

Scarlett's daughter, Victoria, welcomed us into a long hallway. Pictures of the family lined the walls, and a peacock figurine sat atop a small entryway table off to the right. The green of its tail matched the green of the stems in the glass surrounding the front door.

I gave Victoria a hug."I'm always amazed by how beautiful your home is."

"Thanks. Mom's in the kitchen." She turned her attention to Sarah and Kendra. "Want to come see my room? I've redone it."

"Again?" Kendra pushed her wire-framed glasses higher on her nose and groaned. "Don't you ever get tired of redecorating?"

"Never." Victoria laughed. "It's in my blood."

The girls headed upstairs. I'd overheard Kendra on many occasions explain to my Sarah that no one should buy new clothes if the old ones still fit. It kept Sarah from wanting to keep up with Victoria. Kendra was often a godsend in my otherwise tight budget.

The aromas of barbeque and hot pepper sauce assaulted my nostrils as I followed Rachel to the kitchen. I could overhear Scarlett
's husband Robert speaking,
"The only spicy thing I want is you." Robert's voice had a sensual tone to it.

Scarlett giggled. "Don't you ever get enough of me?"

Rachel glanced over her shoulder at me and placed a finger to her lips. She tucked her head into the entrance to the traditional kitchen, which boasted charcoal gray countertops with cream-colored cabinet panels. She smiled, gave me a wink,
and
then took a step forward. "We'd be more than happy to wait in the other room until you're finished," she said to the two in the kitchen.

We both walked into full view. Robert removed his arm from around his wife. He blushed all the way over his bald head. His gray polo shirt made his complexion even more pronounced.

"We was just cuddling," Scarlett said with as much Southern charm as she could muster. Her red face matched the apron she wore around her waist.

"Funny, looked more like pawing to me." Rachel poked her elbow into my ribcage.

"I'm off." Robert kissed Scarlett's cheek. "Nice seeing you again, ladies."

"Robert," Rachel and I sang in unison.

"So where are the girls?" Scarlett spoke with a quiver in her voice.

"Up with Victoria." Rachel leaned over taking in a whiff of the chicken. "Umm. The wings smell good."

"It's a new recipe." Scarlett came around and gave me a hug. "How are y'all holding up, darlin'?"

"We're getting by," I said.

"Well, don't y'all worry, I'm sure something good'll come out of it." Scarlett gave me one last squeeze. "But if you need any help, you let me know. Robert and I'll be more than happy to give you some money to get you by. It won't be a loan, either. It'll be a gift."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Less working hours might give me time for something else, like collecting cans on the side of the highway. Think how much nicer the town will look without all the garbage along the road." My day had been filled with fear and anxiety. But I didn't want my friends to know, so I forced a smile. "I wouldn't be so worried if Michael actually paid his support."

Rachel slid her finger over the stirring spoon for the wings and brought it to her mouth for a taste. "I thought you had a court date back in July to get him to pay what he owed you."

"The judge told him to pay ten percent and get a job. The rest got broken down into payments again. The ten percent went to my lawyer, and I have yet to see anything since then. And as far as I know, he still isn't working."

"You've taken him to court three times now, and each time they've increased his monthly payments after he makes a small stipend." Rachel pulled out one of the bar stools from under the cherry-stained kitchen island. "Are these judges so thick they don't see he's never going to pay if he doesn't have to?"

"What do they care? It doesn't affect them." I pushed hair back from my face, willing my tears back. I refused to cry over this again.

"Let's all get together," Rachel said. "Find Michael and castrate him. We'll hold his most prized possession until the debt's paid in full. I bet he'd come up with the whole amount within an hour."

"You are so northern. Southern women would never whack it off." Scarlett used a paper towel to wipe bleu cheese dressing that had spilt on the countertop.

"Yeah, they'd just have it permed and coiffed," Jory said, surprising us from the entryway.

"Jory, you look great." Scarlett placed wings onto a plate as she spoke.

"Thank you." Jory posed with one hand on her hip and another high in the air, showing off her tight, thin body.

"I wish I could have your body. Then maybe I'd get a rich man to marry me." I squeezed the side of Jory's waist looking for any proof of fat. Nothing. Brat.

"I'll get you in shape. Just let me know when."

Even if Jory cut her price, I knew I couldn't afford a personal trainer."Right now I have Rachel dealing with my finances. She's trying to get me out of debt, so I can't do anything new at the moment."

"Mom, are the snacks ready?" Victoria pointed to the wings as she walked in, followed by Sarah, Kendra, and Frankie, Jory's daughter. Frankie had more muscles than her mother.

"Look at them girls," Scarlett said. "Y'all are getting so grown up. In answer to your question, yes, dinner's ready. We just need to say the prayer."

"Well, let's get on with it. I'm starving." Rachel glanced over at a pie sitting on the stove. "That dessert looks real good."

Frankie nodded. "Yeah, and the food smells great."

We all grabbed one another's hands and bowed our heads as Scarlett prayed. "Dear Lord, please bless this food and these people in my kitchen. Keep us safe from harm. Lord, I'd like to add a special prayer for the Zimmermans to get through this hard time. Amen."

With God on my side, how can I lose? I repeated the question in my mind, but it did nothing to improve my mood. Under the distraction of the girls gathering food, I quickly wiped my eyes.

The teens left to eat in the sunroom at the back of the house. We four ladies filled our plates and proceeded to the dining room. I slid my chair up to the round cherry-stained table and inhaled the aroma of hot sauce from the wings. My sinuses would be clear for a year.

"We gonna sit here all day and eat, or we gonna play some cards?" Rachel rubbed her hands together. "I'm in a winning mood."

"You're always in a winning mood." Scarlett wiped sauce from the corner of her mouth.

"Why don't we talk, then play cards?" Jory said. "We only saw each other for a brief time at the school and sporadically over the summer because of all our vacations."

"Just as long as it doesn't take all day for you to cut the key lime pie." Rachel glanced into the kitchen and licked her lips.