Not Another Bad Date (5 page)

“Four months.” He reached forward and grasped her wrists. He slid his warm palm to the back of her hand and turned it up. “That’s a long visit,” he said, and dropped her keys into her hand.

“Yes.” Her gaze lowered to their hands and the words “Carpe Diem” tattooed in bold script on the inside of his forearm from elbow to wrist. Unless he’d had it removed, he had a pair of interlocking tattooed Z’s circling his left biceps, too.

The heavy door to the house opened and shut behind Kendra and Tiffany, and Adele closed her hand and pulled it from his grasp. “Too long.” The girls moved from beneath the vine-covered walkway into the shade of the portico. “Did you find your shoes?” she asked, and purposely turned her attention to her niece.

Kendra nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Zemaitis. I had a really good time.”

“I’m sorry about your momma.” He took a few steps back, and Adele quickly slid around the side of the car. “Let us know if there is anything we can do for y’all.” His deep voice held a hint of a smile when he added, “It was nice to see you again, Adele.”

Adele reached for the door handle and looked across at him. His lips were curved up at the corners, but she couldn’t say that it was nice to see him. Beyond the shock of seeing him after so many years, she felt nothing. No lifting of her heart. No butterflies in her stomach or warm tingles at the backs of her knees. “Good-bye, Zach.” She joined Kendra in the car and refused to look into the rearview mirror until she pulled away. Through the glass, she caught one last glimpse of the man who’d once crushed her heart. He put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and moved toward the house.

Adele returned her attention to the driveway and pulled out into the street. He’d been the first man with whom she’d had sex. She’d saved herself because she’d thought she had to be in love to make love. “Right.” She made a scoffing sound and reached for her sunglasses. She’d never made that mistake again. As she’d discovered in the past fourteen years, sometimes some of the best sex had nothing to do with love. Sometimes it was just a hot release of pent-up lust. Although lately, she wouldn’t know. Being cursed played hell with her sex life.

“Did anyone call Daddy?”

She slid the glasses on her face and glanced at Kendra. “I’m not sure.” But she doubted it. “Do you want to call him?”

Kendra shrugged. “I don’t know if he cares what happens to us.”

Adele turned her full attention to Kendra and issues more important than an old boyfriend, lack of sex, and curses. “I’m sure he cares what happens to
you.
”

“No.” Kendra shook her head. “I thought when he found out the baby was a boy, he’d want us all to live together again. But he only cares about Stormy.”

“
Stormy.
” Adele made a gagging sound and wrinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something rotten. “What a stupid name.”

“She’s a bitch.” Kendra glanced at Adele out of the corners of her eyes as if she expected to be reprimanded for swearing.

“Yeah. A bitch with a stupid name,” Adele added as she drove through the gates and out into the real world where the air was a bit easier to breathe.

“Momma says I shouldn’t hate anyone, but I hate Stormy.”

Adele reached for her water bottle between the two front seats and unscrewed the cap. Sherilyn had always tried to be so good. The perfect Southern lady and look where that had gotten her. Adele had never tried to be perfect like her sister, but she had always tried to be kind. To be thoughtful of other people, and look where that had gotten
her.
She took a long drink and replaced the cap. She might not be alone and pregnant, but she was alone and cursed with one bad date after another. “I hate a lot of things.” Being surprised by an old boyfriend was currently at the top of the list.

“I hate peas.” Kendra fiddled with the zipper pull of her backpack. “I hate Cedar Creek. It’s just so small.”

“True, but you’ve already made friends. Tiffany seems like a nice girl.” Which was true and also a surprise, given her mother. Although, Zach had always been polite. Sometimes sarcastically so. He’d once told her that the fear of three-hundred-pound linebackers was nothing compared to slipping with a curse word or being disrespectful in front of his mother.

It was nice to see you again, Adele
, he’d said, but he was probably just being polite. Not that she cared.

She hadn’t seemed very happy to see him, though. In fact, she’d been all fired up to leave. Which was probably for the best. He wasn’t the kind of guy who lived in the past or thought much about what might or could have been. He didn’t relive his glory days in the NFL, nor did he rehash his mistakes. God knows there’d been enough of those.

Zach pointed his chin to the ceiling and shaved just below his jaw. When he did look back on his life, he saw it in three distinct parts. Before the NFL, during, and his life now. He’d known Adele a few lifetimes ago, and he had little interest in a trip down memory lane. Especially with a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

He shut off his razor and tossed it on the dresser. She did look good, though. As beautiful as ever, and the front of her sweater had been real interesting. His smile tilted up a bit more. She’d obviously been cold.

“Daddy,” Tiffany called out a second before she knocked. Typical of her, she didn’t wait for an answer before she stuck her head inside. “When ya gonna be back?”

“Probably around two.” He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on a pair of clean socks. The team needed to work more on their passing game now that Don was out for the rest of the season. Zach had a lot of tricks in his playbook and running the Pistol offense was one of them. He’d talk to the other coaches, but it was a lot easier to run play action out of the Pistol.

“Can I have a few friends over while you’re gone?”

“You need to put the living room back together while I’m gone.”

Tiffany’s shoulder slumped. “Daddy.”

He shoved his feet into his black Pumas and bent over to tie the laces. “And the television room is a mess. There are dirty cups and bowls all over the place.”

“We need a maid,” she said through a long, drawn-out sigh and folded her skinny arms over her skinny chest.

When Devon had been alive, they’d had a full-time maid. Now they had a maid service once a week. “No.” He stood. “We need you to pick up after yourself.”

“If I clean up, can I have a get-together?”

He moved to his dresser and slid his watch onto his wrist. “When and what kind?”

“Next weekend. The girls from my dance team.”

Twelve thirteen-year-olds.
Twelve
emotional
thirteen-year-olds prone to high-pitched screaming and drama. Last summer, one of Tiffany’s friends had locked herself in the bathroom with a cell phone and had cried to her boyfriend all day. What was a thirteen-year-old girl doing with a
boyfriend
anyway? Zach would rather get kicked in the nuts than go through that again. “Next game is on Saturday in Midland. Kickoff ’s at one, so I’ll be leaving Friday sometime.”

“Is Leanna coming over?” she asked, referring to the neighbor girl Zach hired to stay with Tiffany when he had to go out of town.

“Yep.”

“Cool. Can I have my party Sunday? You’ll be home.”

“Honey,” he said through a sigh, “I’m goin’ to be tired, and you have school the next day.”

“You can sleep in, and I’ll do all the work.” She dropped her hands to her sides. The girl was relentless as her mother had been. “And I’ll make sure everyone is out of here early. Please, Daddy?”

He frowned, and she took it for a yes and bounced up and down on her heels with excitement. “If it’s nice, can we barbecue outside?” she asked.

“I doubt it will be that nice.” He moved across the room. “If it is, I don’t see why not.”

She put her palms together like she was praying and clapped her fingers. “Yay. Can I invite boys?”

He stopped and looked down into her face. She’d never shown any interest in boys before. “No. No boys.” He pointed a finger at her nose. “Ever.”

“Why?”

He continued out of the room and down the hall. Because he knew thirteen-year-old boys. He’d been one himself. “Stay away from boys.”

“You’re a boy.”

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He didn’t want to talk about boys. Talking about boys would lead to talking about sex, and that was one conversation he didn’t want to have with his little girl. Not yet. She was too young. A few months ago they’d had the first bra conversation, and that had about killed him. “Your new friend Kendra seems nice,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yeah. I think she’s good enough to make the dance team.”

“Why’s her momma in the hospital?” He unscrewed the lid and took a drink.

“She has high blood pressure.”

Zach licked a drop of water from his lip. High blood pressure? It was obviously more serious than it sounded. “Did you talk to her aunt?”

“She was kinda weird.”

He looked down at the bottle. “Weird how?”

Tiffany shrugged. “Kind of in a hurry.”

He’d noticed that. He raised his gaze to his daughter. “Is she from Fort Worth, like Kendra and her mom?”

Tiffany shook her head. “She said she’s from Ohio. Des Moines, I think.”

“Honey, that’s Iowa.”

“Oh.”

He slowly screwed and unscrewed the cap. “Did she, a…mention if she’s married?” He hadn’t noticed a ring when he’d placed her keys in her palm, but that didn’t mean anything. For whatever reason, a lot of married people didn’t wear rings.

“She didn’t say.”

“Kids?”

“I don’t know.” A suspicious frown appeared between Tiffany’s eyes, and she looked just like Devon. “Why?”

Yeah. Why?
Zach shrugged one shoulder and took a drink of water.

“You don’t think she’s cute, do you?”

Cute?
Puppies were cute. Kittens were cute. Adele Harris was sexier than a row of pole dancers, and since it had been a long time since Zach had seen dancing of any kind, mattress, pole, or otherwise, that sounded pretty damn sexy to him. He lowered the bottle. “Sugar, I just like to know who Kendra’s people are,” he lied because some thoughts were better left in his own head.

Tiffany smiled. “Momma liked to know the same thing.”

Yeah, he knew that. Devon had been real big on people’s people.

Tiffany wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest above his heart. “I miss Momma, but I’ve got you, and we don’t need anyone else. Do we?”

He wrapped his arms around her skinny shoulders and pressed a kiss into the part of her light blond hair. “No,” he answered because he knew that’s what she needed to hear. No women with curly hair, turquoise-colored eyes, and interesting points on her sweater.

She turned to look at her sister, propped up and wearing a white nightgown with lace trim at the throat and cuffs. She looked like Nicole Kidman, with her shiny blond hair pulled back into a smooth knot at the back of her neck, all slick and proper. She looked delicate and beautiful…except for the tired lines at the corners of her eyes and the puffiness in her face and hands. Both were symptoms of her toxemia and the irritability due to her headache caused by high blood pressure.

“What did he say?” Adele prompted.

“He wanted to know if there was anything he could do for me. I told him there was just one thing.” Sherilyn rested her hands on her rounded belly, and Adele hoped her sister hadn’t done something pathetic like grovel and beg. Adele would have called him an a-hole and hung up. Sherilyn probably hadn’t ever said “a-hole” in her life. She’d always been too busy trying to be a lady.

“What’s the one thing?” She picked up a gold plastic cup with one hand and a matching pitcher of ice water with the other.

“Well…I told him to go fuck himself.”

Adele gasped, and her hands stilled. The spout of the pitcher was inches from the cup. The woman in front of her looked like Sherilyn, but an alien must have taken over her sister’s body. Sherilyn would never drop the f-bomb.

“I know it’s really vulgar and ill-bred, but I’ve wanted to say if for a while now.” She slid her hands in circles over her belly as if she were caressing her baby. “Go fuck yourself, William.”

A woman in a fuzzy pink robe pushed an IV stand past the open door, and Adele composed herself enough to pour the water. She set the cup and pitcher on the tray, then placed her hand on Sherilyn’s forehead. Adele didn’t recall if the doctors had mentioned fever as a symptom of preeclampsia, but there was definitely something weird going on.

“I’m fine.” Sherilyn looked up into Adele’s face and pushed her arm away. “Well, except for the dangerously high blood pressure, headache, and puffiness.”

“I found your Handycam in a box with your computer,” Adele said, in an effort to take her sister’s mind off her troubles for a little while. She sat on the bed next to her sister’s hip and hooked the toe of her black leather pump behind her knee. “The batteries are all charged up and ready to record Kendra at dance-team tryouts.”

“I wish I could be there.”

“As soon as the tryouts are over, we’ll come here and watch them together.”

“Kendra’s had such a hard time. First her daddy leaves, and now this.” Sherilyn held her hands up and dropped them to her sides. So much for taking her mind of her troubles. “I made her leave her home and all her friends, and now she…”

She has to live with an aunt she doesn’t even know,
Adele thought. “She’s making friends at school. Tiffany seems like a nice girl.”

“I hope so. Kendra needs a nice friend. You met Tiffany’s daddy Saturday, right?”

She’d met Tiffany’s daddy before Saturday. “Yeah.”

“What did you think of him?”

For the past few days, she’d been trying
not
to think of him. Not to think of the way he looked all hot and sweaty, strolling toward her, each step slow and easy. “He seemed okay.” She shrugged. “Why?”

“Kendra said that he’s the football coach over at Cedar Creek High and that he used to play professional ball. She couldn’t remember the team, but she said Tiffany showed her posters and bobble heads and football jerseys in glass cases.” Sherilyn leaned her head back against her pillow and sighed. “I guess he seems okay, but I always like to meet the parents of Kendra’s friends just to make sure she isn’t hanging out with children whose parents are too permissive.” A little frown appeared between her tired blue eyes. “A year ago we got crosswise when she befriended a little girl who didn’t have a curfew, dressed like Britney Spears, and was trying to grow up way too fast. Suddenly Kendra wanted to wear a short skirt and thong underwear.”

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, but I don’t think you have to worry about Tiffany.”

“Kendra says there’s no mother in the home, and it sounds like her father is really busy.”

Busy with work or women?
she wondered. She thought of that horrid life-sized portrait of Devon, and figured any self-respecting woman would likely run away if she had to look at their boyfriend’s dead wife glaring down at her all the time. “Her mother died a few years ago.”

“Oh, poor thing.”

“You remember Devon Hamilton.”

Sherilyn closed her eyes and thought a moment. “Isn’t she the one who used to torture you about your hair?”

Among other things. “Yes. That was Tiffany’s mother.”

Sherilyn’s eyes flew open, and her gaze met Adele’s. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope.”

Sherilyn reached for the Gummi Bears and opened the bag. “Small world.”

She had no idea.

“I feel so helpless. I can’t keep an eye on my daughter.” She popped a red bear into her mouth. “And with everything going on with William, I haven’t bought a thing for the baby.” She rubbed her stomach. “Poor thing.”

For a type-A, control freak like Sherilyn, being confined to bed had to be hell. “Kendra and I will get everything ready for the baby. It’ll be fun.” And as soon as Sherilyn had the baby, and everything was okay, Adele was out of there. Back to her own home and her friends and her life.

“Great.” Sherilyn tossed the bag of Gummi Bears on the tray. “The baby’s moving.” Counting kicks and paying attention to movement was important in a preeclampsia pregnancy. “Give me your hand.” She grabbed Adele around the wrist and placed her palm on the left side of her belly.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Shhh…there. Did you feel that?”

Adele shook her head. Yesterday, she hadn’t felt anything either. Or the day before that.

After a few moments, Sherilyn let go. “I guess he went back to sleep.” She pointed to the nightstand. “Get a piece of paper and pencil and write down everything I tell you.”

An hour later, Adele had a three-page list of what the baby needed as well as a list of appropriate behavior, activities, and television programs for Kendra. Basically, anything that had cursing in it was forbidden. Which meant Adele would have to catch up with some of her favorite shows after Kendra went to bed.

Adele shoved the list into her purse, hopped in Sherilyn’s car, and headed to Sterling Park Middle School. The second she entered the old gym, she was struck by two things. One, it looked smaller than she recalled. And two, it smelled the same. Like hardwood floors and rubber balls. A red-and-black-painted stallion took up the center of the floor, and at the far end, Kendra and a few dozen or so girls stretched and tied their dance shoes. Kendra had pulled her hair back and tied a white-and-red ribbon around her ponytail. Adele gave her niece a big wave, but Kendra must not have seen because she turned her back. Adele shrugged and moved up the bleachers to take a seat three rows up. On the floor below her, four teachers and three students sat at a judging table. One of the students was Tiffany Zemaitis with her hair pulled back in a claw and a pencil in one hand.

Just a few short weeks ago, Adele never would have imagined that she’d find herself sitting in her old middle-school gymnasium. She wrote about the bizarre and unlikely, but she never would have imagined that someday she’d watch her niece try out for a dance team on which Devon and Zach’s daughter was the captain. Not in a million light-years.

She set the Handycam next to her and put her elbows on the bench behind her to stretch out and wait. Neither would she have ever pictured herself the interim de facto parent of a thirteen-year-old. She knew nothing about children. She hadn’t been responsible to another living thing since her veiled chameleon, Steve, died of old age five years ago. And a teen required much more than some misting water, a clean basking area, and a few crickets.

Whatever it was that Kendra required, Adele hadn’t figured it out yet. Kendra hated chicken because it was “veiny.” She hated salad because lettuce tasted like “dirt,” and she hated bananas because they were “mushy” even when they weren’t.

Since the age of eighteen, Adele had lived alone and really didn’t cook much. She usually just threw steak or chicken on her George Foreman and made a salad. Something quick and easy, but Kendra wanted stuff that had to be planned out and cooked, like spaghetti or enchiladas. Or better yet, she wanted fast food. When Adele had explained that she couldn’t have McDonald’s or Taco Bell every day because it was very unhealthy and filled with trans fats, Kendra had looked at her, and said, “That’s gay.” As Adele had quickly discovered, anything that Kendra didn’t like or didn’t like to hear, was “gay.” Adele might have pointed out that saying everything was “gay” wasn’t very p.c., but she figured Kendra would just look at her as if she were old and stupid and “gay.”

A girl in black spandex moved to the center of the gym, put her head down, and waited. Within a few seconds “Get Ready 4 This” blasted from a CD player in front of the judges’ table. The girl began to dance, and it wasn’t so much that she was bad, as she just wasn’t very good. The second girl was a bit better, but unfortunately, the loud squeaky doors to the gym opened and slammed shut three times during her performance, prompting one of the judges to make a sign and hang it on the outside. After that people filed in through the locker rooms.

Half a dozen girls danced before Kendra took the floor. She put her CD in the player, then waited for the first few beats of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” Adele stood, and through the Handycam’s screen, she watched her niece. Kendra had mentioned that she’d been in dance classes since the age of four. Adele had taken dance classes throughout her life, too, and she recognized someone with natural talent. When Kendra finished, Adele gave a few whoop whoops, then stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. She’d probably just acted really “gay” in Kendra’s eyes, but she was too excited and proud not to make some noise.

Several more girls danced after Kendra, and by the time everyone finished trying out, it was past six. Adele stuck the Handycam in her shoulder bag and moved down the bleachers. She moved a few feet from the judge’s table, where the girls had gathered.

“You were awesome,” Adele told Kendra, as her niece separated herself a bit from the other girls.

Kendra shook her head. “I messed up twice.”

“I didn’t notice.” She lowered her voice, and added, “You were a lot better than everyone else.”

Kendra tried and failed to hide her smile. The first really genuine smile Adele had seen on her niece’s face. “I hope so. A few of the girls were good.”

“Grab your stuff, and we’ll run to the hospital to show your mom what a great job you did.”

Kendra pointed past Adele’s left shoulder. “We have to wait until they announce the winners.”

Adele turned to the judges’ table near her. Their heads were all together, and they spoke in hushed tones. “They’re going to announce the winners now?”

“Yeah.”

The doors to the gym banged open, prompting everyone to turn as Zach Zemaitis walked in, trailing the last remnants of the setting sun. Apparently he hadn’t bothered reading the note stuck to the door. The door banged shut behind him, and he stopped just inside and looked around. He wore a black Nike hooded sweatshirt and a pair of faded-out Levi’s. A whistle circled his neck, and the curved brim of his cap shadowed his face and hid his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and looked intimidating and massive standing there framed by the door and glancing about. His arms fell to his sides, and although she couldn’t see his gaze, she knew it had stopped on her. She could feel it move up and down her body, touching here, stopping there.

“Hey, Daddy,” Tiffany called out to him.

He took off his hat and walked across the gym to the judges’ table. He ran his fingers through his hair as his unhurried stride carried him closer. He didn’t so much as glance at Adele, and she wondered if she’d imagined that whole feeling-his-gaze-on-her thing. She wondered if he’d even seen her at all.

Zach stopped next to Tiffany and tossed his hat on the table. “Are you just about done here, sugar bug?”

“Yep.”

One of the female teachers looked up. “Hello, Coach Z. How’re you doin’?”

“Can’t complain, Mary Jo.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile that oozed Southern boy charm. “You look awfully pretty,” he told the woman old enough to be his mother. “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Got it done at the Clip and Snip,” she said through a little giggle.

Adele rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her niece. “I think we need to celebrate. Let’s go to McDonald’s on the way home from the hospital.”

A frown wrinkled Kendra’s flawless forehead. “We don’t know if I made it or not.”

“Doesn’t matter. You did a good job and tried your best. That’s all that counts,” she said, as a small crowd filtered down from the bleachers and waited for the judges. A lot of them called out “heys” to “Couch Z.” Most of them were women.

“I’m going to go stand with the other girls,” Kendra said as she abandoned Adele and moved a few feet away.