Suspicions (13 page)
Authors: Sasha Campbell
“You had to throw in the little sister part.”
“Whatever it takes.” She was grinning from ear to ear. “You can even bring your new girlfriend and her daughter.” Her eyes were locked on me waiting for an answer.
“I'll think about it.”
Apparently my answer wasn't good enough. She folded her arms, locking her eyes with mine. “Well, think hard. I really need you there.” I could hear the desperation in her voice.
“Need me? Why?”
She reached down for a roll and avoided eye contact. “I met someone myself.”
I groaned. I knew her sneaky behind was up to something. “I don't know if I want to hear this.”
Linda started screaming and laughing at the same time. “Chauncey, you've got to listen to me!”
I couldn't help but laugh. “All right. Just save all the explicit details.”
“Okay . . .” she paused long enough to take a deep breath. “I'm in love.”
“In love? Woah! Back up a second.” I sat back in the chair. “I thought you just said you met someone?”
“I did . . . four months ago.” She looked happy. Unfortunately, it was hard for me to think of my sister with some dude who had the same needs that I did. The difference was he was doing it with my sister. “His name is Tommy and he's a medical student. I met him while he was doing clinical rotations on the surgery wing. He's from Detroit and comes from a big family, and he's sweet and kind andâ”
Raising a hand in the air, I cut her off right there. “Slow down. You're wearing me out,” I said. I was jealous at the thought of having to share my sister, especially since I hadn't known I had one for so long. Since I had been paroled, we spent the last eighteen months hanging out and getting to really know each other, and I realized despite our growing up in two different worlds we had so much in common.
“I'm just glad I can finally get this off my chest and talk to someone about it,” Linda replied with a sigh of relief.
I just wished she was sharing her love life with someone other than me. Like I said, it's hard for a brother to think of some man banging his sister. “What about your mom or your girl Trina?”
She turned up her nose. “Mama would tell Daddy, and Trina is too miserable right now to be happy for me. Besides, that's why I have my big brother.”
It was hard, but I forced a smile. I wanted to be happy for my sister; really, I did, especially since she was happy about me and Candace. “So when do I get to meet this cat?”
Leaning back against her chair, she smiled. “How about we go to dinner next week? My treat. That way we can talk about the reunion and come up with a plan as to how I'm going to introduce Tommy to Daddy.”
“I can't wait,” I mumbled under my breath. There was nothing I wouldn't do for my little sister. I just hope this wasn't one time I later regretted.
14
Noelle
“Ooh, Noelle, you are the bomb! My hair looks so good, Michael might suggest we forget about the class reunion and stay home in bed instead.”
“Girlfriend, puhleeze, you better tell that man there's plenty of time for that later. What he needs to be doing is buying you a new dress and shoes to go with your new look.” I spent the last two hours trying to get the weave out her head that someone glued to what little hair she had. Then I washed, dried, and gave her a short cut that was so flattering to her face you would have thought I had created the look. “And another thing . . . next time you let someone glue that mess in your hair, don't bring your behind to me. I don't know what y'all be thinking,” I mumbled under my breath. It was enough my feelings were hurt that she had gone to someone other than me to do her hair just to save a few dollars. “You see where being cheap got you.”
“Don't worry, Noelle,” she reassured. “For now on, won't no one else be touching my head but you. Trust and believe.”
“You better not,” I warned, and couldn't help but smile when she handed me a twenty-dollar tip, then headed out the door, strutting like she was on someone's runway. That's one of the reasons why I loved doing hair. I was an artist who got to be creative and afterward could see the finished product. Today, I was grinning and watching the girls on the couch, staring and admiring Christy's hair. I loved making my clients look good. You might have walked in looking like Chewbacca, but I guarantee you'd leave looking as sexy as Beyoncé.
I straightened up my area, then stepped across my pink and white checkered floor. Situations was a full-service salon. There were six stylists, three nail technicians, and Chauncey, who only did pedicures, and I even had someone in the back room, hooking up eyebrows and any other area of the body you needed waxed. Last year I decided to stop giving my money away to the Vietnamese and opened a shop in the front where we sold weave as well as hair care products, earrings, sunglasses, you name it. I believed in one-stop shopping and made sure my customers felt right at home the second they stepped inside my salon. That's why I had three couches for their lounging pleasure situated in front of a fifty-inch LCD television with every channel you could think of. Right now, the women in the front were watching
All My Children
.
All My Children
.
“Tiffany, I'm going to my office,” I said as I moved toward the back. She nodded, then continued yapping on her cell phone while she flatironed her client's head. I said it I don't know how many times for my stylists to show good customer service when in my salon, and that meant saving the personal calls for breaks. At the end of the day she and I were going to have a little talk. It was bad enough Chauncey had those hoochies coming in here disrespecting my salon. As a matter of fact, I planned to schedule a staff meeting an hour before the salon opened on Thursday just to remind my staff who's boss. If only I could say the same about my home. I had absolutely no control. On Friday, Scott had called with some excuse as to why he couldn't come home over the weekend, something about the coach ordering a mandatory meeting with the entire team. What was even worse was Grant was still hanging out way too much with his boys.
I grabbed a pop out the break room, then moved into my office. As soon as I took a seat, I slipped off my shoes and reached for the phone. “Hello? Ms. Santiago? Hi . . . this is Noelle . . . just checking to see how my grandbaby is doing.”
“She's doing just fine. I just fed her and she's in her swing about to fall asleep.” Her words brought a smile to my face.
That little girl had wiggled her way into my heart. I guess because she reminded me so much of Scott when he was a baby, or maybe because through her I finally had a little girl to spoil. “Good. Glad to hear it. Has she been crying a lot?”
“No, she is adjusting just fine. Relax, I got this under control.”
“I know you do.” I was so glad Tiffany had a good friend whose mother had a home daycare center. She limited her daycare to five children under five. Mrs. Santiago's husband was a minister, which made the deal even sweeter. The second I stepped into their home, I felt welcomed and knew they would take good care of Sierra.
We chatted a few seconds longer, then I got off the phone and logged in to my e-mail. As soon as I checked my incoming mail, I got mad. Grant used to send me a long romantic e-mail every morning, but lately he barely sent me three words. Ever since DCFS agreed to let me keep Sierra, the e-mails had stopped. I don't know why he was so against us keeping our grandchild. He always loved children, yet he wanted almost nothing to do with his own flesh and blood. I couldn't understand what had gotten in to him. Grant told me over the weekend he felt like we were getting in the middle of something that should be between Scott and his baby's mama. But I disagreed. Right now, we didn't even know who her mother was, and it wasn't like I asked her to abandon Sierra on our doorstep. What did he expect me to do? Just turn her over to the foster care system? I felt it was our duty as grandparents to provide for our grandchild. The old Grant would have agreed. This new person who was sleeping beside me every night, I had no idea where he came from, but wherever it was, I wished he'd take his ass back there and send my husband home. Grant had been hanging out almost three nights a week. Coming up with every excuse he could not to be around. I couldn't understand it. Lately, all we did was argue.
“Hey, Noelle. You wanna go to lunch?” I looked up to find Whitney standing in the doorway looking fabulous in a peach seersucker dress that showed off her small round stomach.
“Yeah, in just a minute.” I typed a quick e-mail to Grant, letting him know I was cooking meatloaf for dinner. That was his favorite. I knew if anything could get him home early, that would.
Whitney stepped into my office and reached for a new nolye hair relaxer called Attitudes a sales representative had sent to me to try in my store. “How's it going with the baby? Did you get a chance to speak to Scott?”
“Sierra's fine. She's a good baby. I couldn't ask for a better granddaughter. She's sleeping through the night and is eating good. I even found a wonderful home daycare that you might wanna use when your baby's born. If she has any openings.” I glanced over at the computer screen checking to see if Grant had e-mailed me back yet and was disappointed when I saw he hadn't.
“Definitely give me your babysitter's number. So . . . did you talk to Scott?”
Damn, she sure doesn't know how to let anything go. “Yes, I've talked to him. Scott denies the baby is his, but what else is new? Most men refuse to admit they screw up. He claims if some female had a baby, she damn sure didn't tell him anything about it. I told him to bring his ass home next weekend so we can figure out who Sierra belongs to.”
Whitney gave me a funny look. “Noelle . . . I know you don't wanna hear this, but . . . maybe she isn't his.”
I cut my eyes at her. “Whitney, puhleeze! She looks just like him.”
“I didn't say she doesn't look like him. Just because she looks like him doesn't mean she's his.”
I sat back in my seat stunned. I couldn't believe she was trying to go there again. “Who else is she gonna belong to?” I asked, daring her to say it again.
She gave me a nervous look, then glanced down at the floor. “What's Grant say about the baby?”
“He doesn't want another baby in the house,” I said calmly.
“I'm mean . . . did you ask him if the baby . . . could be his?”
“Hell no!” I glared across the desk at what was supposed to have been my best friend. How could she even think such a thing about my husband? I took that moment to glance over at my screen and my pulse jumped. I had a message from Grant! I reached for my mouse and opened it.
“Why not? I mean there has to be a reason why he doesn't want her there.”
I ignored Whitney's question long enough to read his message:
The boys and I are going bowling after work.
Since when did my husband start liking bowling? I felt like grabbing my keys and heading straight over to the high school and give him a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, the last time I barged in his office, I found him whispering in the corner of his room with a beautiful woman. It wasn't until I cussed them both out that I found out she was the new school counselor. There was no way I was about to make a fool of myself two weeks in a row. Tears flooded my eyes. I just couldn't imagine my husband not wanting to spend time with me.
“What's wrong?” Whitney closed my office door, then came around and took a seat beside my desk. “You look like you just found out your best friend passed away, and I know that's not the case because I'm standing right here. Come on . . . tell me what's running through your mind?”
I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold back my anger and frustration. My marriage was falling apart and I wanted to scream and cry at the same time.
“Everything. Grant's been acting so strange. It started before Sierra arrived, but since she got here, it has gotten worse. He won't hold her or play with her. It's like he doesn't want to have anything to do with her.”
“Maybe he's scared.”
I gave her a weird look. “You think so?” I asked,
“It's a possibility. Your daughter was stillborn and every little girl you have tried to adopt, someone has come and snatched away. Maybe he's scared of falling in love with Sierra and then her mother coming back to get her.”
“Maybe you're right,” I said, eager to accept the explanation and avoid the possibility that Sierra might be Grant's. It was possible. After I lost Rachel, I had been so devastated. It was then that Grant agreed to be a foster parent with the hopes of finding another daughter of our own. But each and every time we had one we adored, her unfit mother would call herself getting her life together and DCFS would give her the child back. Don't get me wrong; I believe in keeping families together, but none of them homes came even close to what Grant and I could offer. Now that I think back on it, I could have sworn he had been more devastated over Rachel's death than I was.
I shook my head. As much as I wanted to believe that was the reason, I couldn't. Grant had been acting strange long before Sierra had come into our lives.
“No, I think it's more going on than just that. He's never home, hanging out with his boys all the time. He even started working out again. I think . . . I think Grant is having an affair.” Whitney tried to look away but not before I had a chance to see the look in her eyes. “You're thinking the same thing. Aren't you?”
Her eyes finally met mine; then she shrugged. “I hate to say this, but that's how Landon was acting before I found out he was seeing someone else.” I hated the look of pity in her eyes. Whitney had been with Landon for four years before she discovered he was cheating on her with a female he worked with. It took her almost a year to get over him.
“What should I do?”
“Noelle, I know you ain't asking me that. Aren't you the one who put a stripper pole in her bedroom so your husband didn't have a reason to go to those topless bars with his boys anymore?” she said with a smirk.
“Yes, I guess that was me.” I hadn't used that pole in months.
“Make your husband pay attention to you. I know you still got a trunkful of those skanky costumes you used to love to buy.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled. “You know I do.”
“Good, then dust off the cobwebs on one; or better yet, instead of lunch, let's go down to that new adult store on State Street.”
Maybe she was right. I hadn't done anything sexy and spontaneous since Sierra arrived at the house. Most evenings by the time Grant got home, I was already smelling like throw up and baby powder. There was nothing sexy about that.
“In fact, I'll be more than happy to watch Sierra for you for a couple of hours so the two of you could have some time alone together,” she offered.
That's why I loved Whitney, she always had my back. I didn't have many women I could call a true friend except for her. “Thanks, Whitney.” I reached for my purse and rose. “Let's go!”
Tonight I was going to fix whatever was wrong with my marriage.
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