His Reason, Her Choice (2 page)

“Look, I don’t want to bust your bubble, dude, but Isaac thinks you’re no competition.”

“Ouch, that’s cruel. I guess you guys are pretty happy.”

She opened her mouth to lie and say yes, but it stuck and wouldn’t pass her lips. “What about you? Every time you call, there’s another woman you’re seeing. Who is it this time?”

“I’m not ‘seeing’ anyone.”

“Oh, sorry, I mean boinking.”

“Boink.” He laughed again. “That’s funny.”

“Hey, you know you’re a male ho, Russ.”

“Because I’m waiting for Ms. Right.”

This time she cracked up. “Okay, I can see that.
Not.
Anyway, Isaac had to work late tonight. He’ll be in about ten. I have to get dinner started, and as much as I like talking to you, I better get to it.”

She must have made a noise like she was in pain, because he said, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. My feet just ache. I have to stand up a lot.”

“Get something else.”

She rolled her eyes. “Everybody doesn’t have the luxury of picking and choosing where they would like to work.”

“I had two offers. I took the one that made most sense.”

“And paid a fat check.”

He dropped his voice down low, and she stopped squeezing her heel to look at the phone. “If you need anything, Joy, I’ll be glad to help.”

“That’s sweet, Russ, but no, thanks. We’re good.” She hesitated. “I always wanted to tell you how much it meant to me that you kept up the friendship even after I left town. I thought there were going to be greener pastures in New York, but it didn’t turn out that way.”

“So come home.”

“It’s not that easy.” Sadness hit her, and for a few minutes they were both quiet. “Listen, Russ, I have to go. I’ll call you next week, and you can tell me about your plans to find Ms. Right.”

“It’s a date.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled and started to tell him good-bye.

“Wait, Joy.”

She paused with her finger above the Disconnect button. “Huh?”

“Are you happy?”

“Where did that come from?” She forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow to her own ears.

“I know you don’t like Georgia.”

“Mainly because of my mother. New York doesn’t feel far enough,” she joked.

“If she wasn’t an issue...”

“I don’t know. I’m a Southern girl at heart, I guess. I’m happy.” Joy tugged a lock of her hair, thinking the lie was unconvincing.

To distract from the truth, she reminded herself she needed to wash her hair because blowing it out and using the hot curlers that morning without shampooing did not give it a good smell. She cringed every time she turned her head.

“So you’re right where you want to be?” he asked.

“You’re starting to sound like a woman—either that or one of those infomercial people.” She kept her tone dry. “Are you trying to sell me something, Mr. Fielding?”

“No, just trying to be a friend. I guess I’m fucking it up?”

“Hey, the language. You’re on speaker, and I already got into trouble this morning with Little Miss thinking I was mad at her because I said
damn
.”

“Not good.”

“Nope.”

“Make it up to her. Nicolette is sensitive, and her feelings get hurt easily.”

Joy blinked at the phone. “You knew which of them I was talking about?”

“Of course.”

“But you’ve never met them. We’ve been on the phone with each other for years. You’ve only ever seen pictures of the girls.”

“But you talk about them all the time, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” She had to admit she was impressed, and Russ’s sweetness went a long way toward making her feel better about her situation. “Thanks, Russ. You don’t know what that means to me.”

“What are friends for?”

“I really have to go now.”

He sighed. “Sure. If you ever—” He fell silent, and she prompted him.

“If I ever what?”

“Nothing. Call me next week like you said.”

“Okay. Will do.”

* * * *

J
oy stood at the stove frying chicken. She counted the pieces that were done and how many more she needed to do. Her feet throbbed. Denita walked into the kitchen carrying a book. Joy pointed the metal tongs she held at her daughter. “Freeze. Back up and stand near the doorway.”

“Mommy, it’s not going to pop this far.”

“Are you back-talking me?”

“Noooo.” Denita retreated a few steps.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know this word.”

Joy removed a few more pieces of chicken from the pot and turned off the stove. “Spell it.”

“D-O-U-B-T-F-U-L.”

“Doubtful. Dang, they’re giving you words like that, and at the end of the school year?”

Denita frowned at the page. “It looks weird.”

“Oh, you’re just getting started, girlfriend. There are many more weird words in the English language.”

Her daughter tried to sound out the word by sight and stumbled over the silent B each time. Joy laughed.

“Mommy, you’re not supposed to laugh.”

“I know, but you’re funny.” She held out her arms. “Come here. We can read it together.”

Denita shrank back. “I don’t want to read it with you. You already know the words.”

“I’ll let you guess.”

She shook her head. “I want to do it myself.” Denita marched from the kitchen.

“Stubborn thing!”

Nicolette appeared around the doorjamb. “I’ll read with you, Mommy.”

“I know you will, pumpkin. We’ll do it after dinner. Go wash your hands, and tell Denita too.”

“Okay!” Nicolette ran along the hall. “I want a big piece of chicken! Two!”

That didn’t surprise Joy, and she made plates for everyone. Soon her girls were fed and bathed, and Isaac’s food sat in the microwave. Both her daughters curled against her sides—Denita with a small fight—while she helped them to improve their reading skills.

Even as she enjoyed the girls, she kept watching the door for when it came time for Isaac to come home. If only ten p.m. would take forever.

“Y
o,” Isaac said when he walked through the door.” He carried a paper bag under his arm, but from the way it was rumpled, she could tell he had already been drinking. “Girls in bed?”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t muster any more than that.

“Good, ’cause I’m horny.”

Joy thought about claiming she was on her period, but it hadn’t been too long since she really was. Even then she had made the excuse two days earlier than it had happened. A couple times he had caught her in the lie. The funny thing was while he was mad, he seemed to think it was natural to make the “I have a headache” pretext.

“I know you’re not on your period, so don’t even say it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

He smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make you feel good tonight.”

She turned her head when he started nuzzling her neck. “You’ve already been drinking. Can’t you lay off the alcohol for one night?”

“It relaxes me. Trust me, baby, you wouldn’t like how angry I would be if I had to put up with Mustafa’s crap all day with nothing to help me unwind at night.” His hands roamed over her hips and around to her ass. “Then I have this sexy body to make it even better.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she put her hand up. “Well at least brush your teeth first. I tried, but I can’t stand the taste of cigarettes or the flavor of whiskey.”

There, she’d been honest.
For the millionth time.

“Fuck, Joy, do you have to ride my ass every night? All I want is sex. Is that too much to ask?”

She didn’t say anything. He swore a few times and headed to the bathroom. The fact that Isaac did try sometimes helped her to keep going. She walked into the bedroom and removed her clothes. Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. She swallowed the feeling like she was selling her body and reminded herself this was her boyfriend, not some stranger.

She climbed on the bed atop the covers and waited for him. A few minutes later when he joined her, she caught a whiff of the minty scent from the toothpaste, but it did nothing to staunch what came up from his lungs.

Vowing to try harder, she reached for him and kissed his chest. He moaned. “Yeah, baby. See? It’s always good when we’re together. Stuff gets in the way, but we’re meant for each other, Joy. Don’t forget that.”

He took her hand and guided it to his shaft. Joy flinched but then made a small sound she knew he would assume was pleasure. As she lay flat and he climbed atop her, she fought to get his words out of her head. This wasn’t forever. They weren’t meant to be, and maybe there was someone out there for her. The problem was believing it and holding on until then.

“Oh, yeah, Joy.” Isaac bucked and pushed deep inside her. Joy squeezed her eyes shut. She swallowed over and over. She cast her mind to thoughts of chores to be done like laundry and cleaning the girls’ bathroom. There were groceries to buy.

No, I said I was going to do better and learn to enjoy it.

With effort, she brought her mind back to the present and ran her hands up Isaac’s arms to his shoulders. He was thin but heavy atop her. She tried concentrating on the feel of his erection gliding in and out of her snatch, but it hurt a little. She wasn’t wet enough. He’d moved too fast as usual, thinking only of getting satisfaction.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” he whispered against her neck. “You want if faster?”

“N-no, slower,” she pleaded, but maybe faster would make him release sooner.

In an effort to get turned on, she tweaked her nipples. Isaac let out a whoop of delight and leaned up so he could watch in the dim lighting coming from the window. He liked her to pleasure herself and got off on it. She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on the feel of her own hands. Isaac kept talking, cutting into her head and reminding her of his presence.

After a few minutes, she got the tiniest sliver of excitement started in her core. Isaac jerked above her and cursed. He stopped moving and held himself inside her. Then he rolled away and slung one arm over his face.

“Damn, that was good. You too, baby?”

Her hands stilled on her breasts, and she blinked at the ceiling. “Um.”

Okay, she needed to be more honest with him. Maybe if he got it up again, she could tell him to take his time. Then she’d come even if they had to work at it. Surely, staying with him would be much easier if the sex was better.

“Hey, Isaac?” she said, turning toward him.

He choked on a snore.

She shoved at his arm. “Isaac!”

A muffled response, and he waved his hand before rolling to his side with his back to her.

“Are you for real? You’re going to fall asleep before I can get mine? Isaac, damn it, wake up!”

Another snore, and Joy gave up. She tried using her own fingers, but her mood had plummeted to such depths, she didn’t want to try anymore. Instead, she climbed out of bed, showered, checked on the girls, and then returned to bed. Resentment kept her on the edge, as far away from Isaac as she could get. Maybe the next time, she thought. They would talk about it before they started.

* * * *

“G
ood morning,” Joy said as she strode into the salon. One of the stylists was already at work on a client’s head, but the other ladies sat in their chairs, idle. All eyes swiveled her way. A couple gazes darted away again, making her wonder what was up.

“Hey, girl.” Karen, the woman who owned the shop and her friend, slid to the end of her seat and stood. “Can I talk to you in the back a minute?”

The bottom dropped out of Joy’s stomach. She frowned. “Is there a problem?”

Karen kept walking, and Joy followed. She had a bad feeling about what was coming and knew she didn’t want to hear it. In Karen’s office, her friend held a hand out toward the seat at the front of her desk, and she walked around to the other side to sit down. Joy’s tension wound tighter. They had shot the breeze plenty of times right there, even laughing over lunch or during a break. In all that time, Joy hadn’t told her the truth about Isaac.

“You’re scaring me, girl,” Joy said. “What’s wrong?”

Karen didn’t meet her gaze, but she tapped the desk with one finger, a nervous habit. “I’m just going to come right out with it. Joy, you know I’ve been having a lot of problems. Competition is fierce in this business and with everybody either doing their own hair or running a business out of their own house, it’s getting harder and harder to keep my doors open.”

Joy gaped. “You’re not closing down, are you? Karen, this is your livelihood. Hell, it’s all our livelihood!”

“I know.” She chewed her bottom lip. “And no, I’m not closing.”

“Whew, that’s good.”

“But I have to cut costs. That’s why...”

Joy froze. “That’s why what?”

“I’m sorry, Joy, but you don’t actually
do
hair.”

“Right, I wash hair. Part time, and I do nails.”

“Also part time,” Karen reminded her. “You don’t have a lot of clients. Everybody’s going to the Asians.”

Joy couldn’t deny it. “I have a few regulars.”

“Truth is I need the space. Not many people come here for nails, and the space you use could go to another stylist. I’ve decided all the stylists can just wash their own clients’ hair.”

For a few moments, Joy sat in silence because her throat had closed. She tried to make sense of the fact that her friend had just pulled the rug out from under her. “Let me get this straight. You’re my friend, but you’re firing me.”

“I’m not firing you.” Karen sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Joy, this is hard. I care about you. I’m going to give you two weeks to find something else. Normally, when a person is laid off, that’s it. I’m trying here. I’ve been trying for six months because it’s you. I can’t anymore.”

Tears welled in Karen’s eyes, and Joy found herself blinking away moisture as well. “I get it. You’ve been hinting around to how hard it’s been for a while. I just stuck my head in the sand.”

“You can’t work on weekends, our busiest time. That makes you much less helpful. I feel like shit for saying that—”

“But it’s true. I’m pissed off at you, but I get it. You can’t risk losing everything just to help me.”