Trouble Won't Wait (25 page)

Anyway, after I’ve implemented my plan tomorrow night, I
will
see Adam, he just won’t be expecting it. I know he thinks our rendezvous won’t be until Friday, but I have a little Christmas surprise for him.

“Hello?” he answers. Who does he
think
it would be calling from this number?

“It’s me, silly. Does your back hurt as much as mine does, from sledding?”

“Killin’ me. Your kids think I was okay?” He’s fishing for a compliment. He knows he was a hit.

“They talked about you all through dinner.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, it was fine. I miss you. How many hours?” I know how many. I just like hearing him rattle it off, knowing I’ll be shaving away about forty of them.

“Sixty-four. You comin’ to see my tree tomorrow?”

Here goes nothing. “Uh…I have bad news.”

“What?”

“We have plans all day and evening.” I hold my breath, hoping he’s not too upset.

“Oh.”

Just oh? That’s it?
Is he disappointed? I can’t tell.

“I’m sorry, I’ll find a way to get there by Thursday for sure, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, really.” He’s so…
not
upset.

“Adam, I…”
I love you. No, save it for tomorrow
. “I’ll miss you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Sleep good, Sloane.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow night too, okay?”

“If you can’t, I’ll understand.”

I’m wishing he
wouldn’t
be so understanding. He’s not putting on a pout. He’s just really unconcerned about whether he sees me tomorrow, it seems.

It takes a very long time for me to fall asleep, but I can hear Adam there the whole time, dependable and consistent. He
must
be disappointed. I want him to be.

No matter, he’ll be happy to see me with my surprise tomorrow night.

Chapter 15

Early in the morning, I wake when I hear Mike clubbing around. The big day has finally arrived. I smooth my hair and steal up the stairs in my tiny nightie and robe.

He’s sitting on the couch tying his shoes, dressed in jeans and sneakers. Not exactly hunting clothes, although I see his hunting stuff nearby. He looks fleetingly at the hunting gear. I’m going for half-asleep, so I pretend not to notice he’s wearing street clothes.

“Hi, baby. Happy Christmas Eve.” I yawn, swaying my bottom overly much on the way to the kitchen. My endearment should short-circuit his lie-filled mind.

“Um, hi.” He’s watching me go, I can feel it. He follows me like a puppy into the kitchen, where I pour his coffee into his Thermos for him.

“Here you go. Don’t want you to get cold and sick.” I hand him the Thermos, and look at him with wide, wanton eyes. I want it to be very hard for him to leave this morning.

His hand reaches up to my shoulder, where his fingers twist longingly in my hair, while he’s undoubtedly tossing around the idea of staying home.

“Mandy, I–”

“Shhh,” I cut him off. “I know, honey, me too. It’ll all be over tonight, okay?”

I slip my hand inside his shirt, palming those carpenter’s pecs one last time. His eyes close in pleasure at my touch. I hope very much he’ll be thinking of me while he’s with Lana.

“When will you be back?” I look at him as if I can’t wait, like I’ll be counting down the minutes.

Mike’s head hangs low. “Should be back by ten.” He leans forward and kisses me long and deep. I return the kiss, then slide my mouth down to his neck, where I spend a little too long in one place, leaving a nice red mark just under his collar. He’s likely enjoying it too much to think of lasting evidence. Before leaving his arms, I make sure a couple of my nicely highlighted blond hairs end up mixed in his dark thatch as I ruffle his hair.

When I step back, he’s a man destroyed with guilt. I can tell he wants badly to call off his escapade and stay with me. He must regret ever starting it all. Mike loves me, there’s no doubt. I may question every word out of his mouth the rest of our earthly lives, but I won’t ever doubt that he loves me.

I pat him on the butt with the parting words, “Bag a good one, baby.”

His head hangs even lower when he walks out the door to the garage.
Guilt, baby. Gotta love it
. Funny, how he went off and forgot those hunting clothes.

* * * *

The kids and I spend the morning getting the rest of the presents ready to take to Mike’s mom’s house. When Mike gets home, he bears flowers and more wrapped gifts for me. Guilt bug has bitten again. I smile gratefully. I
am
grateful I’m going to be able to throw all of these things back in Mike’s deceitful face soon.

I’ve been planning to avoid physical contact until he’s bathed, but he seemed equally concerned, slinking off to shower the minute he got home. He’s also brushed his teeth again. Maybe he imagines it’s some way to control how much he’s contaminated our relationship with Lana.

God, what went on with her this morning? Did he dump her? I’d like to think it would be a terrible blow for her to be dumped, but she
is
still dating sexy Brad. At least, until tonight she is. I’ll be leaving a passel of broken hearts in that house this evening. Poor Brad. I hope he’s as unattached to Lana as he seems.

* * * *

One more holiday to-do with this family of fools. Adam is right: Mike
is
an imbecile, but he comes by it honestly. His entire family is such a bunch of dysfunctional rednecks, they don’t even
get
half the redneck jokes.

One day I will find them funny, but today I’m impatient to be finished with them. A particularly crusty round of racist jokes is in progress, and I just can’t take it today, so I’m taking some of the kids’ gifts out to the Durango.

Growing up in a town where I personally knew only three black kids my entire academic career, I have a very hard time understanding how these people can have any personal dislike for African Americans. Yet they’ve always got derogatory jokes about them.

When my kids were small, we’d get home from this house, and they’d run around repeating “nigger” for days. The word was actually used that much in jokes during a meal! Now, the Hispanics are entirely different. Again, growing up there were very few of them, and anyone who spoke Spanish was as great a novelty as someone who could sign for the deaf.

These days, however, a great many Latinos live around here, and Mike’s snow-white, blue-collar, redneck family doesn’t tell jokes about
them
. No, they feel threatened by their new dark neighbors, so when complaining about Hispanics, they say rotten, despicable things. But since it’s a holiday and they want things to be happy, the Lawsons are keeping things light and concentrating on black jokes.

And here I am, sitting in my back seat, watching big wet snowflakes come down all around. It’s snowing so hard I can’t see the neighbor’s house, though it’s only a couple of acres away. I’m anxious for today to be over. Ready for tonight. Even for tomorrow. One last day before my kids go off on vacation with their Grandma to the warmth of Arizona, and my husband packs a suitcase and moves his lying ass out here to his mom’s house.

Mike and his mom seem to have made up since Thanksgiving, but then, they always do. Things will be smoothed over by mutual excuses, neither will forgive the other, but they’ll each move forward carrying a load of disrespect for the other that’s a little heavier than before. There is love in Mike’s family, but it gets overshadowed by the
taking care of number one
mentality. Maybe that’s how Mike could keep getting his rocks off with Lana while still working me, trying to win me back.

Mike’s heading my way now, probably wondering if I’m coming back inside. I wish I wasn’t.

He spies me in the back seat and climbs in beside me. “Hey, baby. Watcha doin’?” He knows I hate the racial slurs and that’s why I left. “Thinkin’ about tonight?”

Ah, tonight.
Yes, yes I am
. “Mmm-hmm.”

He snakes his arm around me, and starts groping for my breast. At least he’s warm beside me. Years gone past, this would have been romantic, cuddled in the back seat, like we’re all alone in the world, watching the pretty snow fall. I resist the urge to curl my lip at his touch. In another minute, he’s going to kiss me.

“Mike?”

“Mmm?” his hot lips murmur against my ear.

“Did you get anything this morning, hunting?”

His mouth stops moving, and so does the breath from it.

I wait stoically for his answer.

“No, I… Well, my heart wasn’t in it, I guess. I’m over it.”

“Mike, promise me you’re all done cheating?”

“Baby, I told you I was. I won’t make that mistake again, I swear it. I love you so much. I know if I lost you, I’d regret it the rest of my life.” He’s turned in the seat now, facing me. His warm, Polo-smelling hands cradle the sides of my face as he speaks earnestly. “I wanta renew our vows, okay? We’ll have a big party, and in front of everybody, we’ll get married again. I can’t take back what I did, but I promise never to do it again. Will you marry me again? I wanta go inside and tell everybody. I want the whole world to know how much we love each other, okay?”

I’m almost feeling bad right now. Almost. Except I know that even this very morning, he went off to do the dirty with a woman whose vagina sees more visitors than our town museum does.

“Your family would just laugh at us, you know how they are.” Like the least supportive family in the nation.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He’s deflated, but still happy about the renewed
us
.

We go back inside to eat our KFC. Yes, they have fried chicken on Christmas Eve. I can’t guess where this tradition came from, but for many years I’ve been sorely tempted to suggest there’s a black ancestor back down the Lawson family tree. I might do it this year, for the sheer hell of it.

* * * *

When we’ve finally left the House of Bigots, we return to town, empty the Durango of gifts, and head to Brad’s. I’m anxious to see my plan bear fruit. Hidden in my jeans pocket is a digital voice recorder my mom bought me when she first found out I was writing. She thought I could carry it around and save little ideas I got. I bet she never imagined I’d use it as I will tonight. Of course, neither did I.

Brad is warm, happy to have us coming around again. We hand gifts to him, and he stows them under his tree next to his gifts for us. Mike’s arm circles my shoulders, and I notice Lana shooting him crusty looks from the kitchen. His hand moves down to my waist, as if he’s sending her a message. She flips her long dark hair and sneering face the other way.

We have a casual dinner of grilled burgers and chips, with plenty of beer to go around. Most of our friends are here, getting in some R and R before spending tomorrow with family.

Mike sticks close to me, but out of love, or to use me for protection?

Lana and I don’t talk all evening, but boy do we communicate! When I sit next to Mike on the couch, Lana glares at me as if I’ve stolen something of
hers
. I smile triumphantly at her and fiddle with Mike’s shirt collar just enough to uncover the red mark I left on his neck this morning. Her narrowed eyes tell me she saw it this morning. I smile back at her, letting her think she’s lost and I’ve won Mike back.

I’m pretty sure I
am
the victor here. I bet Mike told her we weren’t sleeping together, and now she thinks he was lying to her. Ha, turnabout is fair play.

While in the kitchen helping Brad clean up, I notice an irate Mike pointing at Lana, then the front door. Not long after she exits, he does also.

I tell Brad, “Hey, I have to call my mom quick. I’ll be right back.”

Outside, the snow squeaks softly under my dress boots as I go down the back steps to the yard. It’s lit beautifully back here from Brad’s Christmas lights reflecting off the snow. I tramp quietly around to the side gate, and I’m about to open it and go out front looking for Mike and Lana, when I hear them. They’re on the other side of the fence from me, and I almost trip and give myself away. I flatten myself against the side of the house in an effort to be sneaky, before common sense reminds me they can’t see me through a wood fence.

I pull the voice recorder out and turn it on.

Mike is speaking. “…all I’m saying is knock off the dirty looks in there. You want everybody to know what’s been goin’ on?”

“Looks like it’s a bigger secret for you than it is for me. Maybe you better keep me happy if you don’t want me talkin’,
lover
.”

“Look, it’s
over
, okay? Mandy wants me back, and this is over. I told you this morning.”

“Yeah, right after you do her, you show up at my house and wanta break it off, huh? She knows about us anyway.”

“No shit? She walked in on us that first time. Of course she knows.”

At least now I know for sure it was the first time.

“I mean, she knows about the rest. That’s why she gave you that suck-mark on your neck, to break us up.”

“She does
not
know about the last three weeks.”

“She
does
. She’s been givin’ me looks all night, showin’ off that you want her back.”