Chances Are (19 page)

She took a long breath, sat down and bounced Denise's son on her thigh. “Now I want you to listen and listen good. I swore to your mama years ago that I would never breathe a word of this to another soul. Especially to you. It's time I broke my promise.” She blew out a breath. “Your grandparents, they ain't dead…”

Niyah listened, stunned, for more than a half hour to a story she'd only read about in newspapers or heard whispered among the girls at Chances. Never in her wildest dreams would she have believed that her mother had been through what she did and was still able to rise above it. What was most telling was that for all her sacrifices: financial, emotional, physical and personal, she'd done it all for her. To protect her from the fact that she'd never been wanted by her grandparents. Those same people who had given her mother life had tried to beat the life out of her, then tossed her in the street like an old pair of shoes. Protect her from feeling that she was less than worthy, because Dione was made to feel that way, and therefore any child she bore. She never wanted Niyah to, in any way, feel responsible for anything that happened to them over the years because of a single decision she'd made one spring night. And even to keep Niyah from knowing, she had been willing to jeopardize Chances Are and lose Garrett in the process.

Tears ran unchecked down Niyah's cheeks. How could anyone love another person that much? But she knew now that it was possible and she was the recipient of that unwavering love.

“She thought you'd never forgive her for lying to you all these years, from keeping things from you. You're the most important thing in your mother's life, Niyah.”

“I know,” she choked, sniffing back her tears. “And it's time she realized that I feel the same way about her.”

“I
think we have all the footage we need for the piece,” Jason said to Garrett as he turned off the monitor. He rolled his neck and rubbed his eyes, which were red and tired from hours of staring at the screen.

“Yeah, looks that way. I'll just be glad to get this project out of the way.” Garrett snapped on the light.

“We still need to shoot the Christmas party. That will give it the final touch. Jerk a few tears from the viewers.” He chuckled and stretched.

“You can probably handle it on your own,” Garrett said, getting up from the stool. “Or take one of the guys with you.”

Jason frowned. “You're not coming?”

“Naw. Got things to do.”

“On Christmas Eve? You? You haven't celebrated a holiday for as long as I've known you. All you do is work. You and Dione planning a getaway?” he snickered.

“Is that all you ever think about?” he snapped, opening cassette boxes and putting the tapes inside.

“What's wrong with you? You been snappin' and snarlin' like a pit bull for days and quite frankly, it's getting tired.”

“Then why don't I just get out of your way. I'll see you later.” He snatched his jacket from the back of the hook on the door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

 

When he got outside he was met by a bone-chilling drizzle. And he realized he'd left his cap in the office. He started to turn around and go back, but then he was certain he'd run into Jason and then he'd have to apologize, or possibly continue what Jason began. He wanted to do neither.

Holding his head down, which didn't help, because the water just ran down his neck, he strode down the block toward his car, cursing under his breath. He felt as if he wanted to explode, to lash out and hit someone like when he'd been a kid and he'd been taunted or was feeling unusually lonely. Back then he could beat people up, get his frustrations out and the worst that would happen is that he'd be sent to his room, or to the principal, or to a counselor. He couldn't pull that anymore. Now he'd get sent to jail.

So what he'd done over the years was pour his frustrations into blinding hours of work, work and more work, to the exclusion of everything else. Then he took up jogging and when work no longer eased the voids, he ran.

He felt like running now and to just keep going. Watching Dione, the house, the girls on the screen for hours had been his own undoing. He'd convinced himself over the past couple of weeks that it didn't matter, that
she
didn't matter.

It was a lie.

She did matter. More than he'd wanted her to, and he was paying for it. What bothered him more than anything, seeped down to his bones and chilled him like the falling icy rain, was that he didn't understand why. Why did he have to keep paying for wanting to be cared about? Especially now when he was finally learning to care in return?

He turned up the collar of his coat and started to run, slowly at first, then faster. He ran right past his car and kept going.

 

Garrett was soaked and exhausted by the time he reached home. Foolishly he'd run through the rain until he couldn't run anymore and finally had come back to his car.

He started stripping out of his clothes the instant he closed his door behind him. Grabbing a towel from the closet on his way to the bathroom, he rubbed it through his hair.

“What was I thinking about?” he grumbled, already feeling the aches from the cold rain settling in his muscles. He turned the shower on full blast and as hot as he could stand it. He stood under the steaming water for a good ten minutes before the chill finally left his body.

Stepping out he heard the faint ringing of the phone. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stalked into his bedroom and snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Lawrence?”

His brow crinkled. “Yes,” he answered with hesitation. It was too late for creditors to be calling and besides the voice sounded a bit too young yet vaguely familiar.

“This is Niyah…Williams. Dione's daughter.”

His stomach knotted. “Hi. How are you?”

“Fine. I'll get right to the point of my call. I know this may be out of line, but if I don't do it, I know my mother never will.”

He rubbed his head with the towel and sat down on the end of the bed. “I'm listening.”

“I don't know what happened between the two of you, and it's probably none of my business. But what is my business is my mother's happiness and right now she's not happy, and I know it has to do with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. My mother is a very proud woman, Mr. Lawrence. And that makes her stubborn. She spends so much time trying to do the right thing for everyone else she forgets about herself.”

Garrett twisted his mouth as he listened, not really wanting to hear it, but trying to be polite. “Go on.”

“I want to do something special for her.”

“What's that got to do with me?”

“I'd like you to be there. I know you're planning on shooting the Christmas Eve party—”

“I wasn't planning on coming. Jason is going to shoot the final footage.”

“I know I'm in no position to ask favors of you, Mr. Lawrence. But please be there. If you ever cared about my mother, please just come. It's important.”

“I can't make any promises, Niyah. Your mother, we—let's just say I can't make any promises.”

She blew out a breath in frustration. “At least think about it.”

“Yeah. I'll think about it.”

“Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Slowly Garrett hung up the phone. Why would he want to do anything special for Dione after the way she'd simply dismissed him from her life? Bet her daughter didn't know about that.

He stretched out on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
If you ever cared about my mother, please come,
Niyah's voice echoed.

“I still do,” he uttered in answer. “But I won't put myself through that again. Not even for Dione.”

 

By the time Dione arrived at her house, the rain had turned to a driving, icy sleet. Just the short walk from the car to the house had chilled her to her soul. When she walked into the warmth of her apartment that welcomed and wrapped around her like a down comforter, and to the smell of chicken baking in the oven, her entire body gave out a sigh of joy.

“Niyah,” she called shaking out her coat before hanging it on the outside of the closet to dry.

“I'm in the kitchen.” In the time since she'd spoken to Betsy, she'd had the opportunity to pull herself together and collect her thoughts. She had no intention of mentioning her conversation with Ms. Betsy to her mother. If Dione could keep secrets, so could she.

Dione hurried into the kitchen, truly happy to see her daughter. “Hey, sweetie,” she beamed, and gathered Niyah for a hug. “This is a pleasant surprise, but I would have cooked.” She kissed her cheek, then ruffled her short hair.

“I know. But I wanted to do it. Give you a break.”

Dione looked around at the pots steaming on the stove, and the dishes set out on the counter. “Seems like you have everything under control. I'm going to get out of these clothes.”

“Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good.”

Dione went into her bedroom and quickly stripped out of her clothing. As she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, she thought about all the questions Niyah was bound to ask and what answers she was going to, or was willing to provide.

She thought she'd successfully explained about the lack of any sign of Christmas at the house, and maybe she would get in the spirit now that Niyah was home. What she was sure her inquisitive daughter would want to hear about was Garrett, a subject that was still too painful to discuss. And if Niyah even remotely thought that she was in some way responsible, she'd badger her until she was given an answer that she believed.

Dione sighed as she stepped under the pulsing water, shutting the shower door behind her. If only the waters would just wash away all the anxiety that rippled through her.

But of course that would be too easy.

 

Much to her surprise, and relief, all Niyah wanted to talk about was finally getting a break from school, her part-time job in the administrative office, and lo and behold a young man who'd actually captured her daughter's attention.

“So where did you meet Neal?”

“He's in my business management class. He's majoring in economics.” She smiled shyly.

“Hmm. Where does he live?” She took a forkful of wild rice.

“He was raised in Maryland, but he's lived in DC for the past ten years.”

“Does he live in the dorm or have his own apartment?”

“He has his own place.” She paused and looked up at her mother from beneath her long lashes. “I've been there a few times,” she said, trying to sound casual. “It's pretty nice. Small.”

A wave of anxiety began to take hold. Flashes of her own first love streaked through her mind. She was only a year younger than Niyah when her entire life changed. She didn't want that for her daughter. Niyah had a brilliant, bright future ahead of her and she didn't need it being derailed because of emotions that ran out of control.

“I hope you're not letting Neal interfere with your studies,” she said, taking a sip of fruit punch.

Niyah put down her fork and stared across the table at her mother. There was so much she wanted to blurt out—tell her that she understood her worries, her concerns that her life would turn upside down like hers had been. But she didn't. She put the ball in her mother's court.

“Ma. Why don't you just say what's on your mind? You want to know if Neal and I have been intimate. Well,
so far,
the answer is no.”

Dione released a shaky breath.

“But if and when I decide that's what I want to do, I know how to protect myself. You taught me well, remember?”

Dione pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “I'm glad to hear that. But sex goes beyond just protection, Niyah. It's a commitment, not just of your body but of your emotions. And if it's not, then it shouldn't be happening in the first place.”

Niyah nodded. “I know. That's why I'm waiting.”

“Good. I can't ask for more than that. Just be careful,” she said softly.

“I will.” Niyah put her elbows on the table, thankful that Betsy wasn't in the room to knock them out from under her. “Tomorrow, I'm going to put some Christmas cheer in this place. While you're at work, I'm going shopping. Then I'll meet you at the job and we can pick up a tree.”

Dione grinned. “I'm glad you're home.”

“So am I.”

 

When Niyah pulled up in a cab in front of Chances Are the following afternoon, she had to get Brenda to come out and help her with her trunkload of packages. She had enough decorations to fill Times Square in Manhattan.

“Girl, what in the world are you going to do with all of this stuff?” Brenda asked, dropping the last of the bags on the office floor.

“We're going to jazz this place up, then I'm taking the rest to my house and do the same thing,” she said with a grin. “And I'm recruiting all the help I can get.” She pulled off her parka and hung it in the closet. “Any of the girls home?”

“Everyone except Gina. She got her GED results back today and she went out to celebrate.”

“She passed!”

“Yep.”

“Hallelujah. I know Ma will be happy. Gina's one of her pets.”

“We want to wait until the party to tell her.”

Niyah's eyes sparkled. “Perfect. It'll fit in with the rest of my plan.”

“Which is?” Brenda gave her a suspicious look.

Niyah sat down on the edge of the desk and lowered her voice. “Is my mother around?”

“No,” Brenda whispered, caught up in the suspense. “She had to go to a meeting at Borough Hall. She should be back around four.”

“This is what I was thinking, but I need you and Ms. Betsy's help…”

 

When Dione returned to Chances from her meeting, the house was abuzz of activity. Her eyes widened in surprise at the huge wreath with a big red bow that hung from the front door. She looked up at the building and every window had been sprayed with canned snow, and pictures of black Santa Clauses hung from each one. When she stepped inside, gold and green garland was wrapped around the banisters, and mistletoe hung over doorways. Pictures of reindeer pranced along the walls in the corridor.

From the visiting room stereo the sounds of “White Christmas” could be heard as the girls rushed up and down the stairs shouting out for “More tape,” and “Anybody got any thumbtacks?” or “That's for my door, you thief.”