The 90 Day Rule (13 page)

It would mean resetting the clock, putting my life on hold once more.

I can do this. Can’t I?

“I will have my assistant inform the department that you and Loretta will be here for the weekend, tending to my needs. You shall return and resume your classes and your teaching assistant duties on Monday.”

I nodded, agreeing to the terms, burying the
yes but
deep, so deep it would not poke its ugly head out until I’d fulfilled the terms of the verbal contract.

Robert could not be trusted to keep his vows. Thank God, Tonia could and did.

Perverse Jes had to say it, “How are you going to guarantee
little robert
will stay where it belongs,” making the requisite finger quotes to emphasize my point.

What I didn’t say was if
little robert
came anywhere near me ever again I’d beg, steal or borrow enough money to buy pruning shears and make His Right Honorable Judge McMahon the first eunuch to ever preside on the bench.

Tonia snickered.

Oops.

“Speaking of funds. You will understand that the, uh…”

“Bribe?”

“…offer cannot be extended until after all the conditions have been satisfactorily executed.”

Executed. Good word.

It was time for full disclosure. “I can’t stay with Loretta. It’s not right. And, besides, she has a…”

“Boyfriend. Yes, I know.”

A look of vague displeasure crossed her face and my belly clenched, wondering if she knew about Chazz. Really knew.

“He’s a good man, Tonia. I couldn’t have chosen better for her myself.”

And you know…?

“Of course I know. Despite what you think of me, I am not the heartless martinet you consider me. Nor am I a hypocritical racist.” I sucked air at that, shocked. “Loretta talks with me. Frequently. And while a poor boy with modest upbringing from Alabama is not my first choice for my grand-daughter, it appears he has prospects.”

Tonia lay back on the pillows looking spent. Yet, in spite of her obvious exhaustion, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Voice noticeably weaker, she said, “I see I finally got you to shut up.”

That little revelation put me in a tailspin, no doubt about it. But the issue of managing my life under her conditions simply did not compute … in more ways than one.

“Jessamine, I want you to stay with your daughter. I have my reasons.” I sputtered an objection but she spoke over me with conviction, “Suffice it to say, they are necessary reasons. And I will lend you sufficient funds so that your presence there will not be a burden. On any of you.”

I sat back, hands clenched, thinking on everything she’d said. Tonia always had reasons and it was quite clear she was not in a sharing mood.

Desperation gnawed at me. I wanted … craved my own space. Especially if I were forced to interact with Robert on any level, no matter how innocuous. If forced to live with Etty, I’d have to choke down the fireworks, put a lid on my bile and suck it up.

Be bigger than, better than
.

Once more for the Gipper. But this time it looked like the Gipper was going to be me. Or Tonia. The jury was still out on that one.

“Are we agreed?”

Measuring time in units of pain was no way to live. But I refused to give up and give in. Not completely. So I said the only word that would kick start a semblance of a new life. I said, “Yes.”

“Good. Now go get Robert. I want you both down at the recording studio this afternoon.”

Recording studio…

Jessamine Cavanaugh McMahon did it in the recording studio with a microphone.

With an evil grin I motioned for Robert to come in. I had no doubt in my mind what I would do with that microphone.

Even if it didn’t fit…

****

“Do you want to head home on Interstate 80? Just for something different?”

Etty nodded but continued staring out the window. She’d been oddly reticent to talk, either to me or to her father. Especially to Robert. I’d gone the friendly
wassup
route to no avail. Pulling the mommy card wouldn’t work me into the bonus round either so keeping my mouth shut about ‘issues’ seemed prudent.

After all, she could be pining for Chazz.

If I were in her shoes…

Oh, wait a minute. I was.

Pining. Yearning. Thirsting. Aching.

Crap, I could fill a notebook with frilly phrases sure to please and inspire any and all of my favorite romance authors’ requirements for emotive descriptions.

What wasn’t going to happen was the thing I wanted most …
hot honking mad thrusting pounding lunging balls-to-the-wall fuck-me-senseless sex
.

The man said, clear as day, he wouldn’t wait forever. I’d just had an extension added on to make that ‘effectively forever’. And whether or not he came for me, I would not be free, no matter how many days I counted down.

My thumb straddled the intersection of smooth metal and unyielding flesh. The evidence of my contract was there—hard, solid, incontrovertible. And there it would stay until the final decree officially released me from bondage.

In the meantime, Coach Jack Ryan would be nothing more than the director of the program. A teacher, even perhaps a colleague but nothing more, because the man was temptation personified, a devil without horns who would niggle at my resolve until I caved.

If I caved, if I gave in to my feelings, Robert would win. It was that simple.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Mind what?” I glanced over but she still had her face turned away. I exited the on ramp, blending smoothly into light traffic.

“Staying with me. Actually, I want you to.”

Reaching over to pat her thigh, I sighed and muttered, “It’s an imposition.”

“It’s a condition.”

Cattle prod me. I nearly drove off the road. She could not possibly know…

“I told you. Grams and I talk. She explained it all. Sort of.” Her voice bounced off the window, echoing back, muted and filled with … something. “I kinda read between the lines.”

“Are you a psychologist now?” That was said half in jest.

“Um, about that.”

Setting speed control at seventy, I focused as much attention as I could on her next words.

“I, uh, talked with Grams and she agreed.”

“About…?”

“Changing majors.”

Oh, thank you gods of scholarship and opportunity!

“Before I asked the obvious question: which major, before I explored how and why she’d changed her tune, even before I gave a single thought to Tonia even being willing to entertain that heresy, I asked, “Is that what you and your father were talking about?”

Silence. Long, drawn out.

Finally, she turned and faced me enough that I caught her expression out of the corner of my eye and didn’t like what I saw. Blank, tight, stone-faced and … determined.

“Yeah, among other things.”

I waited. For … the other things.

Apparently hell was freezing over so I gave that up and pursued less invasive topics. Etty relaxed, marginally.

“I want to go to med school. It’ll mean an extra year of anatomy and bio but a lot of the schools accept apps from non-science majors.”

I didn’t know that. I also hadn’t realized that for three years she’d been carrying an extraordinary academic load. A load heavy on sciences and psychology in addition to her pre-law history and communications courses.

Getting into med school was no picnic, even I knew that much. And even if more women than men were being accepted that didn’t mean it was a gimme. I said as much. And I asked the logical follow-up, bypassing the fact she’d try for whatever school accepted Chazz, “What happens if you don’t get in?”

Actually her odds of getting in med school were far better than scoring a spot in a school of veterinary medicine. It was the life-after-refusal that had me in a dither.

Mothers worry about that shit.

Etty took a deep breath and said, “Then it’ll be grad school and a PhD in psych.”

Blessed silence took over, each of us deep within our own heads. The landscape turned rolling, then leveled out as we hit the Appalachian plateau, cruising up long hills, barreling past the big rigs, easing back and testing the brakes on the long curving down grades.

Robert had been loath to give me the Audi. Tonia’s assistant, a dour young man of indeterminate age, had done the transfer, affixing the seal and passing the dollar bill to Robert’s outstretched hand.

I thought puce was a good color on him. Too bad we’d finished with the filming and voice overs for the ad campaign.

Practical Jessamine, nearly bursting with pride, felt the need to babble so I opened up the topic of funding.

“Grams said I could borrow against my trust fund. As much as I needed. She’ll see to that before…” Etty gulped back a sob but went on, “…before she, before…”

Shit shit shit.

“She’s not going to die, hon. Not Tonia. She told me so. In no uncertain terms.”

My daughter finally allowed a glimmer of hope to wrap her in its willowy embrace. Willowy embrace … God, I was waxing fanciful in my dotage.

As long as this young woman beside me had hope, then so did I. For the first time in, oh forever, I too felt optimistic.

And in spite of everything, in spite of
me
… I counted down.

Loretta giggled and said, “You’re doing it wrong. Start at ninety-nine, Mom.”

“No, hon, ninety.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s the rule.”

Chapter 11: Excuses

There were only so many ways a person could delay walking out the door into what loomed as an unqualified cluster fuck.

I’d heard the phrase before, read it in novels and moved on … without appreciating the finer points, the innuendoes and shades of meaning. Pondering each and every one was a satisfying exercise for Tuesday morning, because Tuesday afternoon and my four hours of TA obligations followed.

I’d skipped classes and the Monday workouts, claiming exhaustion and catch-up duties. Coach Bryant understood. Up to the point where he recommended pertinent files to review and defensive strategies to explore. If I’d had any thought of zoning out on the couch, Coach B put paid to that plan.

“You gonna finish that, Mom?” Etty pointed to the half-eaten bagel.

“No, it’s yours.”

“Thanks. Gotta run. Late tonight so you’re on your own for dinner.”

She barreled out the door taking all my motivation and good intentions with her. I needed a bye day. Oh heck, I needed a week, a month, a lifetime.

I so did not want to run into Jack, my boss, Ryan because if he had Jack, my lover, Ryan still on board it wasn’t going to be pretty. Tonia had given me the gift of time and the promise of the wee pot of gold at the other end of the no fault divorce rainbow. I had a stipend and a goal. A place to live. And a shoulder to cry on.

What I did NOT have was a date on national holidays and a warm body to curl around. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that once I laid eyes on the man, on his smoky blues, my self-control would self-destruct.

Eye on the prize, girl, eye on the prize.

Staggering to the now functioning elevator, I stared bleary eyed as the doors creaked open. Three touseled mops dragging non-descript backpacks lounged against the metallic surface. I recognized one of the kids from the intramural squad. He did a ‘Ma’am’ nod of the head and shoved the other two out of the way, making room for me.

I exited the building ahead of them and swung right. They split left but before I got out of hearing range, the one kid said, “She’s fuckin’ cool, man. Not bad for a beeyotch her…”

Turning down Pugh Street, I must have looked like an idiot with a huge grin on my face.

Not bad for my age, huh?

Well, alrighty then.

****

“I have a request.”

That made me sit up straight. Coach Bryant usually just said ‘do this, do that’ and the expected response was something about how high or how fast. Sir.

So I said, “Yessir.”

“Ya know the Parker kid?”

The rolodex in my head twirled, then I nodded. “Yeah, Traylon. Tray Parker.” He wasn’t a starter, yet, but he looked good on the relief end when the big man, Roddie Fitzgerald, hit the three foul range.

He was also looking to be on academic probation for a significant portion of the school year. He’d already flunked some quizzes we knew about, plus he was playing loose with the concept of required attendance in his core classes. Granted it might be hard to tell in an auditorium filled with four hundred introduction to basket weaving under water students, but at six-foot-eleven, black as night, he was hard to miss.