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Authors: Trice Hickman

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BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt

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After all the romance and excitement of last night, I forgot to tell him about the lingerie incident with Daddy. So I dug into my Pad Thai and recounted the entire incident from start to finish.

“Wow, that's crazy,” Tyler said in between bites of his chicken in peanut sauce.

“Yeah, you can say that again. We're getting married and my parents are headed for divorce. I'm just glad he's finally going to be happy.”

Tyler wasn't too shocked about my nonchalant attitude regarding the state of my parents' marriage. And the fact that I was actually happy that my father was having an affair hadn't been lost on him either. After so many years of working with troubled youth and their dysfunctional families, he had seen it all.

Tyler paid the bill and we were on our way out when a handsome man caught my eye. It was Bradley! He was sitting at a small table, scrolling through his iPhone while he sipped a drink.We had to walk by his table in order to leave, so there was no way I could avoid him.

“Hey, isn't that Bradley?” Tyler said as we headed in his direction.

I hadn't told him about the situation with Emily and Bradley either, so as far as he knew they were still together. I felt a twinge of heat rise inside me when I thought about how he had maliciously set out to hurt my friend. I wanted time to think about how I would handle confronting him, but it was too late, we were at his table.

Bradley looked up as we approached and gave us both a smile. “Hi, Samantha, hi, Tyler.” He greeted us with mild awkwardness. “Good to see you.” He rose from his seat, gave Tyler a brotherman pound, and then leaned in to give me a light hug. I wasn't good at pretending, so I didn't try to force a smile. But I wanted to show my growth, so I nodded and remained silent as he and Tyler exchanged a few opinions about the Falcons quarterback and the Hawks' new roster for the upcoming season.

I couldn't believe the way Bradley was talking with such ease, like he hadn't done a damn thing! I was starting to get heated just looking at him. “Excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room,” I said, feeling I was about to lose it.

Tyler nodded. “Okay, babe. I'll pull the car around so you won't get wet in this nasty rain,” he said, then went back to his conversation with the bastard.

I couldn't get to the restroom fast enough. Once inside, I stood in front of the sink and took several deep breaths. I looked into the mirror, proud of myself for having such restraint because it had taken a lot for me not to go the hell off. After one last cleansing breath I walked back out, ready to leave. But what I saw next stopped me dead in my tracks. An attractive woman who could have been Emily's twin came up to Bradley's table, bent over, and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before taking a seat beside him.

As I got closer, I could see that the woman wasn't as attractive as Emily. She picked up her menu, giggled something into Bradley's ear, and they laughed in that goofy way that new lovers tend to do. I was so pissed I wanted to scream, but I reminded myself that I was bigger than this. I needed to stroll by them, keep my mouth shut, guard my temper, and meet Tyler out front.

When I approached their table on my way out, Bradley stood and walked over to me. I prayed he wouldn't speak, but he did. “Take care of yourself, Samantha.” He smiled. Then, after an awkward pause he said, “Um, when you see Emily, please give her my best.”

Okay, now that took the damn cake! I couldn't believe that this bastard had the nerve to mention Emily's name after what he'd done. And if that weren't bad enough, he went a step further by having the audacity to stand there and actually look sincere as he did it. Now it was on and poppin'! I glared at him. “You fake-ass, no-good, low-down, dirty rat bastard muthafucker!” I hissed.

Bradley's eyes widened as his mouth dropped open in shock. His date looked stunned, letting her menu fall to the table as she watched just as wide-eyed as he was. Bradley stared at me as if to ask,
What's going on?
His innocent bit made me even madder.

“I can't believe the way your punk ass treated my friend,” I continued. “You're a sorry piece of shit! But let me tell you one damn thing, you pathetic son of a bitch, what goes around comes around, and I hope you get yours right up the muthafuckin' ass!” I looked past him in the direction of his date and said, “Good luck with this one, sister!” I turned on my stilettos and walked out the door.

When I buckled myself into the front seat,Tyler could see that I was upset. I filled him in on what Bradley had done to Emily, and told him about the confrontation we'd just had.

“Sam, you've got to control your emotions and your mouth.”

I crossed my arms and looked out of the window toward the restaurant. “Did you see how that son of a bitch acted all cavalier?” I said. “He screwed over my best friend!”

“Look at me, Sam,” Tyler said, in a tone that was demanding yet calm. I turned and looked at him as he reached for my hand. “Bradley will get his payback, but not from you. Now, I'm serious, you've got to stop shooting off that mouth of yours.You can't fly off the handle just because the mood hits you. I'll help you with some anger management techniques if you want, but something's got to give. Baby, I love your fire and the way you fight for the people you love. But every war doesn't need to be fought. Chill, all right?”

Tyler stroked the back of my hand the entire time he spoke, soothing me with his loving words. This was why I needed him in my life. Other men from my past would've either blown it off or cosigned my madness by jumping in and escalating the drama to another level. But Tyler was responsible and levelheaded, and he balanced me.

“You're right, and I'm sorry,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “You sure you still want to marry a drama queen like me?”

“I know what I'm getting myself into.” Tyler leaned over and gave me a soft kiss on my lips. “We're all a work in progress.”

I knew I was blessed to have such an understanding man. There I was, a foul-mouthed hell raiser, engaged to a man who possessed patience and kindness. And there was Emily, a kind-hearted gem, alone with no romantic prospects. That's not right, is it?

I knew what had to be done, and it was something I should've taken the lead on a long time ago. Once I got back to DC, one of the first things I planned to do was help Emily find a man.

Chapter 34

Brenda . . .

A Strange Knowing

B
renda sat in her first-class seat, consumed with worry. She was on a flight returning home to DC after spending what had started out as a fun-filled weekend in New York, but had ended as a Big Apple disaster. For the first time in her life, Brenda was uncertain about her future and didn't know what to do. She'd always been in control, making the rules that everyone around her had to follow. And even on the rare occasion when things didn't work out the way she envisioned, she always had a backup plan to ensure that she'd still come out smelling like a rose. But now, things had suddenly changed and she was at a loss for what to do.

Her weekend had begun so well on Friday when she arrived at LaGuardia airport. Harry had arranged for a driver to meet her at baggage claim and then whisk her away to a suite at the Carlyle Hotel. He had wanted her to stay at the Four Seasons again, but she felt it would be a bit too risky to return to the place where they first rendezvoused. After all, she was there in the city on legitimate business related to her volunteer activities. She had a meeting the next day with the docent director at the Frick Collection to discuss their consortium program, and then a private dinner party later that evening at the home of a prominent arts patron.

Brenda didn't feel the least bit guilty about having an affair because she knew deep down that her husband was doing the same thing. They hadn't slept in the same bed in over a month, and they barely saw or spoke to each other anymore. It didn't take a genius to figure out that not only was he having an affair, he was etching out a plan for divorce, and Longfellow's card was proof.

Brenda still couldn't believe that Ed was actually making plans to leave her, especially after all the years they'd been together. In the first few days after she realized what he was up to, she began to calculate various ways to save her marriage. But one by one all of her angles proved to be fruitless. Finally, she knew that only one strategy remained. She had to gather concrete evidence to prove that Ed was having an affair.

Initially, she considered hiring a private investigator to follow him, but after carefully thinking it over, Brenda knew she'd be wasting her time and money. Ed was smart and tactical, and he often used private investigators to gather evidence for his clients' cases. He knew the drill all too well and how to cover his tracks. He wouldn't get sloppy, not with so much at stake.They had amassed a small fortune over the years and she knew he would try to hold on to as much of it as he could.

Brenda decided to lay low for a while so she could figure out her next move. She resisted the urge to see Harry every weekend as she had wanted. Instead, she chose to limit her visits so she could stay close to home and keep an eye on things. But being home depressed her even more. Ed was always gone, Gerti barely spoke to her, and Samantha avoided her. Samantha had even begun to move some of CJ's things into her home and was spending more time with him, so Brenda never saw her grandson either. Emily hadn't been to the house since the night of the party, and even Dorothy seemed too busy lately.

Brenda knew she deserved to be happy and fulfilled, and she was determined to make sure that she enjoyed herself, for at least one weekend. So she agreed to meet Harry for a trip down memory lane.

Once Brenda checked into the hotel, she was delighted to find a large fruit basket, selected pastries, and a bottle of her favorite champagne when she entered her room, again, all compliments of Harry. “This is exactly what I needed,” Brenda whispered to herself. She unpacked her bags, put on her silk robe, and settled in while she waited for her lover, whose shift would end in less than an hour. It gave Brenda a charge knowing she was involved with a working-class man, going against the grain of her polished upbringing and the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. But she had to admit, Harry wasn't your average working-class man, and that had been part of his intriguing appeal.

After dozens of phone conversations and three weekends filled with heated passion over the last six weeks, Brenda learned that he held a bachelor's degree in business and had worked in some of the finest restaurants across the country and abroad. He was well versed in food and wine and could speak broadly on topics from politics to current events. She surmised that he made a comfortable salary. However, she wasn't too impressed because it was miniscule in comparison to the money Ed pulled in. But despite the fact that she knew Harry wasn't in her league, he was still a delicious distraction that she could use to alleviate her stress.

After Harry left work he came straight to Brenda's room. He was right on time as he'd promised and he filled her evening with enough heat, lust, and salacious moans to make her forget about her problems at home.

The next day, Brenda attended her meeting at the museum and then made a brief appearance at the director's dinner party that evening. She left early so she and Harry could continue where they'd left off under the sheets. Brenda loved the way Harry handled her in the bedroom, and she wanted to hold on to him while still maintaining her marriage to Ed. She was a woman who was used to having it all, and after her weekend romp was over, she intended to devise a new plan that would net her both.

It wasn't until her final evening in the city that everything began to crumble in front of Brenda's eyes. She and Harry had spent the day in bed, enjoying a variety of positions that had rendered them exhausted.When evening came, Harry made a suggestion that caused the entire deck of cards to come tumbling down.

Because all of their time together had been spent within the confines of hotel rooms, Harry wanted to take Brenda out for the evening. He made reservations at an intimate restaurant not too far from her hotel and suggested that they cap off the evening by listening to jazz at one of his favorite nightspots. He knew the best and most discreet places in town, and he wanted to show Brenda a good time. But almost as soon as he made the offer, she forcefully objected, making it clear that she didn't want to be seen out in publicâwith him!

“Brenda, this restaurant is very private. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise,” Harry said, trying to persuade her.

“There are always eyes around,” she countered. “I can't run the risk of being seen out with
you
.”

Harry stood, pulling his boxers up the length of his lean legs. “If someone happens to see us, you can just say we're having a business dinner.”

“On a Sunday night?” Brenda scoffed, shaking her head at the ridiculous thought. She looked Harry up and down as he stood beside the bed. “You don't even look like someone I'd be doing business with.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Brenda could hear the tension in Harry's voice. Her time with him was supposed to be fun and free of hassles. Now he was acting as though he wanted more than what she was willing to offer, and she didn't like it. “Harry, must you get so testy? I just meant that you're not the business executive type . . . that's all.”

Harry smirked. “Neither are you, so what's the big deal?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You're an attractive, well-kept housewife who volunteers with museums and charities to make yourself feel good.You shop all day and drink all night. I may be wrong, but that's a far cry from a high-powered business executive.”

Brenda sat up in bed, completely beside herself with indignation. “You have some nerve talking to me that way.You don't know a thing about me!”

Harry laughed and gave Brenda a sly smile. “I know you a lot better than you think.”

This time the tone in Harry's voice unnerved Brenda because it matched a strange knowing in his eyes. A knowing that sent a slight chill through her body.

Harry dressed quietly, pulling on his shirt with care.

“Oh, Harry, come back to bed,” Brenda purred. “Let's not spend our last night together squabbling over silliness.”

To Brenda's dismay, he ignored her. Harry continued to dress in silence, and once he was finished he turned and spoke. “You don't remember me, but I remember you.”

The chill that Brenda had felt a moment ago suddenly returned. She didn't know how she knew it, but she was sure that Harry was going to tell her something devastating . . . and she was right!

“Think back in time. Way back,” Harry said. “Martha's Vineyard. The summer of 1973. Tuesday nights at the cove beyond the beach. The country boy from Ocean View Restaurant with the high-top Chuck Taylors. Any of that ring a bell?”

Brenda drew in a sharp breath. Her past had just walked into her present. She had experimented with several boys when she was a budding teenager during her summers on the Vineyard. Those days had been an easy way for her to test the sexual waters without damaging her reputation back home. She had a good time practicing techniques that had prepared her for womanhood, and particularly for Edward Baldwin, whom she'd wanted since she was twelve years old. As Brenda's mind raced back in time, she formed a memory of the lone boy who had stood out from the rest.
“Henry?”
she gasped in astonishment.

She remembered the mysterious, dark, sinewy boy who worked in the kitchen at Ocean View Restaurant. He'd boasted baby-smooth skin, a bright smile, and an almost mystical allure that had made even the grown women on the beach take notice. He wore T-shirts and jeans every single day, and he somehow managed to keep his white high-top Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers immaculate, as if he'd just picked them off the shelf at the shoe store. He hadn't been her first, but he had definitely been her best.

Over the years, she'd pushed the memories of those summers to a secret place she no longer had use for. Now, as she peered into Harry's intense brown eyes and studied his face, a sliver of recognition began to form, placing him back on the Vineyard, to those steamy nights of young passion.

“Yes, Brenda, it's me.” Harry nodded. “You always called me
Henry,
instead of my real name. But after two or three times, I just stopped correcting you.”

Brenda was so flustered she gathered the bedsheet up to her neck, as if a Peeping Tom were lurking at the window. “How . . . how did you know it was me? And why didn't you say anything before now?”

As Brenda sat with her mouth slightly agape, Harry went on to tell her that when he had initially spoken with her over the phone, he thought she was merely a disgruntled guest voicing her dissatisfaction with the hotel's room service. But as he listened to her speak, there was something strangely familiar about her voice, prompting him to deliver her meal himself, which was something he rarely did.

When she opened the door, he immediately recognized her as his secret love from the special summer of his past, even though nearly four decades had gone by since he'd last seen her. He revealed that he'd often wondered what had become of her.

“You were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen,” Harry said, “and more sophisticated than anyone I'd ever met. After that summer I wanted to contact you, but I didn't know your last name, or your real first name, for that matter.”

Brenda covered her mouth and shook her head, remembering she'd told her summer lovers that her name was Betty, and that she and her family were from Boston, not Washington, DC. She continued to sit in astonished shock as Harry spoke.

“I knew right away that you had no clue who I was, and I didn't tell you because I wanted to see if our connection would naturally click as it had in the past . . . and it did.” He smiled. “I can't offer you the grandeur of the life that you now lead, but what I can give you is happiness, laughter, and love.”

Brenda blinked back her confusion. “I don't understand.”

“I care about you, Brenda.You haven't talked about your marriage, but I know you're not happy. If you were, you wouldn't be here with me.”

“My marriage doesn't concern you.”

Harry's mouth formed into a frown. “Since I'm the man you're having an affair with, I think it does.”

“Well, we can fix that rather quickly,” Brenda said, her voice turning icy like the winter wind. “Get out!”

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave! And if you don't, I'll have you escorted out by security.”

Harry looked at the coldness behind Brenda's eyes, realization sinking in. “I guess I didn't know the real you. I've been holding on to the fantasy of my youth.”

“Get out, Harry!” she hissed. “And as I said, if you don't leave, I'll call security.”

Harry shook his head calmly. “No, Brenda, you're not going to do that.”

“Give me one reason why I'm not.”

“I'll give you two.”

The chill returned to Brenda's body as she held her breath, bracing herself for what Harry was going to say next.

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt

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