Grown Folks Business (31 page)

“I was thinking about you.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. But even though I could bask in the sound of your voice for the rest of the night, I’ve got to get some sleep. Will you continue to think about me?”

“Yes.”

For the second time that night, they hung up without saying good night. But this time, they didn’t have to say it. They both knew that it had already been a very good night.

S
heridan didn’t know why her nerves remained. Yesterday, when she had announced she was bringing a friend to the party, her family had responded casually.

Christopher had shrugged.

Tori had asked, “Does Mr. Brock know it’s my birthday?”

Her parents had spoken in unison, “That’s nice.”

And Kamora had cheered as if Brock were her own date.

Sheridan had felt like she was making much ado about nothing. And so she had slept last night, but this morning everything inside her fluttered.

“It’s the last house on the right,” Sheridan directed, as Brock slowed the car. In an instant she was taken back to 1984, when she’d brought her first boyfriend, Kevin, to meet her parents. She’d been terrified, knowing her parents were going to interrogate Kevin about his intentions. Now, more than twenty years later, she felt the same way.

“Are you ready?” she asked, when Brock turned off the ignition.

Brock twisted to face her. “I’m beyond ready.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll use a fork when I eat, and I’ll wait until I get home to scratch any itch.”

She laughed but then quickly became serious. “I hope you know that I love who you are.”

“Okay, so I won’t use a fork.” He grinned and then slid from the car, grabbing Tori’s gift. Sheridan was already standing outside the car when he came around to her side. “Anxious, huh?”

“No,” she said, as she tried to breathe her nerves away. She looked at him and wondered why she worried. He was gorgeous in his black jeans and black shirt. This time his locks were tied back. How could her family not love him?

She led him to the front door and took one final breath before she stepped inside.

“Hey,” she yelled over the squeals of Tori’s friends and the TV in the living room.

It was Tori who rushed to her first, with six of her friends in tow.

“Hey, Mom.” She hugged her mother. “Hi, Mr. Brock.”

“Hey, happy birthday.” He handed her the gift. She squealed her thanks and then turned away, with her friends following behind.

Sheridan had expected a rush—curious adults dashing to meet her and her guest at the door. But besides Tori and her entourage, no one came. She could hear the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. She peeked into the living room and decided she’d conquer its occupants first.

Her father stood the moment she walked into the room. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just explaining the intricacies of basketball to my other daughter here. You would think after all these years she would’ve learned something.”

“Ah, come on, Mr. Collins. You’re not being fair. I’ve only been your sports student for twenty-five years.” Kamora grinned and waved. “Hey, Brock.”

“Hey.” Then Brock held out his hand to Cameron. “Mr. Collins.”

“Nice to meet you.”

As her father and Brock exchanged greetings, Christopher and Nicole walked over. Sheridan hugged Christopher and then Nicole, hiding her surprise at seeing the two together.

She said, “Christopher and Nicole, this is—”

“I met him before,” Christopher said, as he took Brock’s hand.

She wanted to cover her face, hide her eyes from her son, but when Christopher introduced Nicole, to Brock, as his girlfriend, that news made her forget her embarrassment.

“Did I hear Sheridan?” Beatrice asked, as she brought a tray of cheese and crackers into the living room.

“Hi, Mom.”

But Beatrice had no words for her daughter, turning instead to the man by her side. “Brock. Welcome to our home.”

“So, Brock, are you a Laker fan?” Cameron asked, pulling him away from Sheridan’s side.

Sheridan couldn’t hear his response as he moved with her father to the other side of the room.

Beatrice said, “Honey, can I speak to you?” She motioned with her chin toward the kitchen.

Sheridan glanced at Brock, who with his expression waved her away.

Inside the kitchen Beatrice said, “Just want you to know, Quentin’s coming.”

Sheridan groaned. “How’d that happen?”

Beatrice shrugged and pulled a tray of ribs from the oven. “He called this morning. Asked if it was okay. I couldn’t tell him no.” She paused. “Didn’t you think he’d want to come?”

“I thought he’d be happy having her tomorrow.” She inhaled. “Oh, well. We’re all adults. And I’ve got to get used to seeing him with Jett.” She paused. “But I don’t know how Christopher will react.”

Beatrice waved her hand. “Chris will be fine. He’s not going to do anything in front of me or Cameron.”

Sheridan shook her head in doubt. “I don’t know. For four months Chris hasn’t said four words to Quentin. Even Quentin and I have found a way to get along. Well, sort of. I’m learning to accept and live with what’s happened.”

“And that young man out there is making it a bit easier.”

Sheridan couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question, so she said nothing.

Beatrice said, “Don’t worry about Chris.” She opened the refrigerator and handed Sheridan a Mountain Dew. “He seems fine now. I was happy he brought Nicole with him.”

“Yeah, he’s been hanging out with her and his other old friends,” Sheridan said. But still the worry stayed inside her. She didn’t know what Christopher would do when Quentin arrived with Jett.

“If you want, I’ll have Cameron tell Chris that there’ll be none of that teenage nonsense in this house. We let that kind of stuff go when we got rid of you and your brother.”

“No. Let’s just see how it plays out.” She paused. “But maybe you can send up an extra prayer right about now.”

“I will.” Beatrice chuckled. “But there’s nothing to worry about. I know my grandson.”

And I know him better,
she thought before she turned to the living room. The doorbell rang, but before she could get to the door, Kamora opened it. Over her shoulder Sheridan saw Quentin.

It was a long, silent moment as Kamora stared at Quentin, and Sheridan wondered why she hadn’t thought about Kamora. Her friend wasn’t much better than her son.

“Come on in, Quentin,” Sheridan said, because it was obvious Kamora had no intention of making the invitation.

He stepped to the side, since Kamora hadn’t made a space for him to pass, but before he could say anything, Tori rushed to him.

“Daddy!” It was like Tori had radar. She’d been in the den with her friends, but the moment Quentin stepped into the house, she found him. “Thank you for coming to my party.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, sweetie.”

Kamora rolled her eyes and walked into the living room.

“Daddy, we’re playing chess. There’s three of us on one team, and three on the other, but you can play with us too. Come on.”

“Just a minute, sweetheart. I want to talk to your mom first.”

Once alone, he said, “I hope you don’t mind my being here.”

“Not at all,” she said. “I just want to warn you, Christopher’s here.”

“I expected him to be.”

“He’s with Nicole”—she paused when he raised his eyebrows—“so maybe he won’t act like a total fool.”

Quentin chuckled. “Anything else I should know before I head inside?”

She looked over Quentin’s shoulder to where Brock sat with her father on the couch. “Where’s Jett?” she asked, not answering him.

He looked away from her. “I didn’t think I should bring him. This is a day for our family.” He paused. “I learned a lesson from the recital.”

Oh, great.

Sheridan watched as Quentin walked into the front room. She stayed still as Cameron greeted his son-in-law and then introduced Brock. The girls’ shrieks from the den and the Laker game in the living room drowned her father’s words, but she exhaled when Brock shook Quentin’s hand and a moment later Quentin walked away. Only then did she join her father and Brock.

“Are you okay?” she asked Brock.

“He’s fine,” Cameron answered for him. “This guy has a good head on his shoulders. First, he’s a Laker fan, and he agrees we shouldn’t let Shaq go. And then we’ve been talking about whether there really are lost books of the Bible.”

“He must really like you,” she said to Brock. “Those are his favorite subjects.”

Sheridan turned when Christopher tapped her on her shoulder and motioned for her to step away.

“I didn’t know Dad was coming,” Christopher whispered.

“I didn’t know either.” She took a sip of her soda.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She cocked her head. “Of course. I’m not hurt by your father anymore, Christopher. And I don’t think you should be either.”

“Yeah, well. I’m fine with him. As long as he leaves me alone.” He smiled when Nicole joined them, and the talk turned to their SATs.

Kamora sauntered over to the group and pulled Sheridan away. “I didn’t know Quentin was going to be here.”

Sheridan chuckled. “That’s exactly what Chris said.”

“Are you okay?”

“That’s exactly what Chris asked.”

Kamora chuckled. “I was wondering…how does it feel to be in a room with your husband and your boo?”

“Do women call men that anymore?”

“What? Husbands?”

They laughed together. Kamora said, “I’m just sayin’,” she whispered, “it’s gotta feel kinda good, showing Quentin he’s nothing more than a few years in your history.”

He was a lot more than that, but Sheridan wasn’t going to explain that to Kamora.

“I’m glad Mr. Muscles has helped you get over Quentin.”

“It’s not because of Brock that I feel this way.”

“Um-hmm.” Kamora popped a cracker into her mouth. “But I know Mr. Muscles has helped to move the healing process along,” she said, before she sauntered back to Christopher and Nicole.

Sheridan leaned against the mantel and glanced through the pictorial history of her life. And then she looked at Brock. He felt her stare, looked up and smiled.

For the next hour Sheridan wandered through the rooms, joining Quentin and the girls, then Christopher, Nicole, and Kamora. She went into the kitchen to help her mother, who just shooed her away.

“It’s just hamburgers, hot dogs, and ribs,” Beatrice said. “I’m getting the beans ready now.”

The day was easy, more effortless than she had ever imagined. Once Brock was released from her father, he flowed with the family like he belonged.

“Okay, everyone,” Beatrice finally called. “Grab a plate. Let the birthday girl and her guests go first,” she admonished the adults.

Sheridan packed her plate with food and then said to Brock, “Let’s eat outside.” She led him through the sliding door to the table under the gazebo.

“Your family’s great,” Brock said. “Especially your dad. And I’m glad Christopher…well, I’m glad he doesn’t hold a grudge.”

The sliding door opened and Quentin stepped outside. “Mind if I join you guys?”

He moved too quickly for Sheridan to respond, and a second later he was sitting next to her.

With a rib in his hand, Quentin asked Brock, “How long have you known Kamora?”

Both Sheridan and Brock frowned at the oddity of the question. And then it hit them at the same time.

“Quentin, Brock is here…with me.”

It took several seconds for her words to reach the understanding part of his brain. His eyes looked like he was watching a game of Ping-Pong, the way his glance moved back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re…together.” His tone was full of humor.

“Yes,” she said.

“You’re not here with Kamora?” he said to Brock.

With one of his lopsided grins, he said, “No. I’m here with your…with Sheridan.”

Quentin’s smile faded. “Oh.”

The minutes that followed were filled with only the sound of forks scraping against the softness of the paper plates.

“Daddy!” Tori slid the doors open. “Can you come and—”

“Sure.” Quentin jumped up before she finished her request.

The moment Quentin stepped into the house, Brock said, “At least we got that over with.”

“It felt beyond strange. But you know what? It felt good.”

“Because it gave you a chance to get back at Quentin?”

“No, exactly the opposite.” She reached across the table and touched his hand. “Because it felt good to say I was with you.”

He squeezed her hand. “So you’re not ashamed of me anymore?”

“I was never ashamed of you,” she exclaimed.

“Yes, you were. But you’re not anymore. Because at least from today forward, you can tell people that we share the same decade.”

She balled up a napkin and threw it at him. They laughed. Brock stood and pulled her to her feet. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. He kissed her and Sheridan didn’t care if anyone was looking.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Sheridan asked, as Brock stopped the car in her driveway. “I wanted to do something special for you today.”