The One That Got Away (6 page)

“Okay, so maybe you are actually straight,” Ama had conceded. “But you don't want any woman other than this one. You need to go to her.”

“She's married.”

“Tony, please. If that mattered, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Go to her.”

His memory of Ama's cold tone faded as Larry motioned him into his office. “All right, let's see what these folk have been up to.”

His brain clearing, Tony couldn't withhold the question he burned to ask. The answer was too important, too central to why he'd made this trip. Even in a town as small as Cincy, he couldn't count on crossing paths with Serena by chance. “Larry,” he said, pulling alongside his new boss. “Are you still in the market for a finance director? I know someone you should definitely speak to.”

M
s. Wilson, a short, glamorous woman with a round, healthy shape, nodded respectfully as she took Jamie's hand. “Mr. Kincaid, it's a pleasure to finally meet you.”

As she watched her husband stoop low enough to take Dawn's homeroom teacher's extended hand, Serena resisted the urge to speak her mind.
Yeah, it's about time.
Not only had Jamie conveniently been in Italy during her first two parent-teacher conferences this year, he hadn't made a single conference of Dawn's last year. The past few weeks, though, she'd put him on notice: he'd either help shoulder the load of Dawn's struggles or be harassed about it daily. Apparently Jamie figured it wasn't worth the trouble to keep ignoring her. He'd even called his coach in Italy, informing him he'd have to report to Rome a few days late in order to attend this meeting.

As she took a seat across from them in the empty classroom, Ms. Wilson seemed more anxious than Serena felt. Leaning forward in her seat, planted on the balls of her feet, the teacher politely cleared her throat. “Well, as you know, we were all hoping this meeting wouldn't be necessary. However—”

“You don't need to apologize, Ms. Wilson.” Looking up from her desk's cracked manila-colored face, Serena couldn't manage a
smile, but she kept the flames in her gut from flaring into her eyes. “We made a deal, or should I say
I
made a deal with you.” She ignored Jamie, who swiveled in his seat defensively. “I'm sure you wouldn't have called us in if something wasn't wrong.”

“Well,” Ms. Wilson replied, her gaze shifting slowly between the couple, “I felt it was best to discuss this in person. You know that in addition to our concerns about Dawn's grades and her lack of attentiveness in class, I was concerned about her tardiness?”

“Ms. Wilson,” Jamie said, nodding reassuringly, “my wife has already filled me in. We can cut to the chase. What has she done now?”

“Jamie!” Serena punched Jamie's shoulder before she could stop herself.

Mrs. Wilson drew her back straight. “Well, if we're getting right to it, Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, we now have a problem bigger than being tardy for class. Dawn has been skipping homeroom altogether for the past three weeks, and I understand from her algebra and English teachers that she's a rarity in their classes, too.”

“I don't understand,” Serena said, crossing her arms as a calming mechanism. “Where is she when she's not in class? Shouldn't school security or someone be herding her and other kids back into class? Why would you let her hang out in the hallways?”

“To be honest, Mrs. Kincaid, there's only so much we can do along that line.” Ms. Wilson dropped her gaze for a second, then recovered it. “Either the children are in the school building somewhere so that a teacher or security guard spots them or they're off campus.”

“Out in the street.” Serena shook her head slowly. “You don't secure the building, do anything to make it difficult for a student to just walk out during school hours?”

“Though we're a traditional school here at Western Hill, Ms. Kincaid, I've found that my students are generally as well behaved as those at the magnet schools,” Ms. Wilson said, sighing. “I've found that with increased parental involvement we can usually decrease behaviors like Dawn's.”

His lips pursed, Jamie narrowed his eyes. “All due respect,
ma'am, I don't appreciate where you're going with this. My wife does all she can to keep Dawn motivated. We tried everything with her before we transferred her over here.”

“Don't take me wrong,” Ms. Wilson said, her voice rising in volume. “You both seem to be wonderful parents, meeting me like this, not to mention I'm very aware of your professional accomplishments. I also hear that your younger daughter is a complete joy for her teachers over at Clifton Elementary, so I realize some of this is out of your hands. I'm just telling you that we have a shared challenge when it comes to Dawn, in getting her to appreciate school.”

Serena desperately pinched the bridge of her nose, momentarily cutting off the smell of the room's stale air. She just didn't understand. “She's made so much progress in other areas,” she whispered, the best she could manage without risking a crack in her voice. The weight of parenting—the one job with no training, no pay, and countless forces working against you—pressed her shoulders toward the ground.

Ms. Wilson's eyes softened further as she reached forward for Serena's hand. “The family counseling you've been having, it's helped her relationship with her sister?”

“Yes,” Serena said, gripping the teacher's hand but glancing at Jamie for validation. “She's stopped picking on Sydney, and she and I have had some really open talks about her biological father.”

Jamie, his long legs uncomfortably splayed wide, his head down, nodded. “It's true. Life at home has been much more pleasant since the therapy started.”

Ms. Wilson cleared her throat again. “And was it determined whether medication was necessary?”

Serena's nostrils flared as she replied, “The psychiatrist found no signs of clinical depression.” Serena had feared a diagnosis similar to her relatively mild manifestations of bipolar disorder; Dawn's doctor's findings were exactly what she wanted to hear, and she wasn't about to have them second-guessed. “Dawn's made this progress without any medical help.”

Ms. Wilson folded her hands together, drew her back straight
again. “So, before I have to recommend Dawn for suspension, is there anything else you think we should try? Anything you want to do at home first?”

Her brow wrinkling, Serena huffed anxiously. Sister might as well ask her how to climb Mount Everest.

His eyes glued to Ms. Wilson's empathetic stare, Jamie spoke before Serena could form an answer. “If she was your daughter, what would you do?”

The teacher smiled gently. “I don't want to give up on any child, Mr. Kincaid, least of all one as attractive and bright as Dawn. Unfortunately, there seem to be other factors—things beneath the surface—at work here. I don't know that I have the resources to address them, but with your help I'll try.”

Jamie bit his lower lip, then lifted his long arms overhead before standing. “We'll get back to you in a day or two, ma'am. Will that be okay?”

Still seated, Serena looked up at her husband, then at the teacher. What did he think he was doing? Like he had the final word or something.

Reading her mind, Jamie extended a hand toward her. “Come on, baby. We have to make a decision, one between us as Dawn's parents.”

Ms. Wilson smiled at them, seemingly touched by Jamie's show of leadership. “I can wait another day,” she said. “Just please call my extension by five p.m. tomorrow.”

Once Jamie had shut her passenger door and walked around to the driver's seat of their Explorer, Serena turned to him and calmly asked, “So what's your plan, Mr. Big?”

“I'm not trying to step on your toes, Dee,” Jamie replied, his voice softening. Backing the Explorer out of its parking space, he said, “I could just see you were drained back there, and there's no sense hashing this out in front of Dawn's teacher. Besides, I thought someone reminded me that Dawn is legally my child, too, or did I misunderstand that?”

“Oh, Jamie, whatever,” Serena mumbled. “What do you think we should do?”

“I don't want you to slap me, okay?” Jamie smiled wryly as he sped into traffic. “I know I'm not home much, but whenever I get to talking with the brothers at the mosque about the state of the local schools, they only have love for one secular institution in town: Rowan.”

“Rowan Academy?” If her husband hadn't been hurtling their car down the interstate at seventy-five miles an hour, Serena would have slapped him. “You want to send our child to the place working overtime to put my employer out of business? Dr. Kellogg would kill me.”

Jamie shook his head, a self-satisfied grin twisting his lips. “Dr. Kellogg doesn't have to turn Dawn into a productive citizen, now does he? We have to make the best decision for her, Dee, not for your boss's ego.”

Serena shut her eyes, letting her husband's undeniable logic flood her.

“I'm just trying to be real,” Jamie said. “Of course the brothers say the Nation's schools are the best way to go, but failing that, they give Rowan real props.” He paused, chuckling as he relived one of his recent conversations with the local Nation of Islam leadership. Intrigued by the brothers' record of pursuing justice but unwilling to make the sacrifices inherent in the faith, Jamie enjoyed soaking up their energy from the sidelines. “Now, they're not fans of Arthur Champion, understand. They think he did nothing but air dirty laundry with his verbal bitch-slapping of our community, but they respect what that school has accomplished.”

“That place is a fad,” Serena said, frowning as if she'd gotten a whiff of chicken livers. “Their success is all hype: bringing in LL Cool J to deliver motivational speeches, having Mekhi Phifer lead workshops in English class, and other showy stuff. It may look good for the evening news, but that can't bring lasting change to kids' hearts.”

“You can hate on Rowan if you want, Serena,” Jamie said, sighing rebelliously, “but they're getting results. I can't think of a better school to kick some sense into Dawn.”

“You don't need to say it like that.”

“Let me clean it up, then. I'm confident Rowan will be an edifying environment for my lovely stepdaughter.” Shifting lanes suddenly, he pursed his lips again. “Better?”

“She's your
daughter,
Jamie,” Serena replied, feeling her neck swivel. “Get rid of that ‘step' business, okay? That may be part of the problem, for all we know.”

“Damn,” Jamie said, sighing and slapping the wheel loudly. “You're absolutely right, Dee. I guess I was just defensive for so long about her, the fact she's not naturally mine. We men are a proud lot, you know?”

“I'm not having that conversation again,” Serena said, waving a hand and looking out the passenger-side window. “I understand though, babe. You love me so much, you wish you could have been the first man to get between my legs and make a baby.”

“You're cold,” Jamie replied, chuckling through clenched teeth. “A brother opens up his heart, and gets nothing but mockery. Maybe I should just tell you now, Dee.”

Her curiosity aroused, Serena peered over at her husband. “What are you talking about?”

Without slowing the roll of the Explorer as it sped down the highway, Jamie glanced at Serena with a face-splitting smile. “I was saving it as a special surprise for your birthday, but you need some good news to get you past this drama with Dawn. This is my last season over there, Serena. Six more months and I'll be home for good.”

Hearing the words, Serena knew instinctively that she should smile, so she did. Her eyes glued to Jamie's, she touched his knee gently.

“Look at that,” he said, his smile beaming even more brightly. “I've struck Ms. Serena Kincaid
mute.
That overcome by joy, are you, girl?” His eyes back on the road, he lowered his voice. “I'm excited about this, Dee, I really am. I know Sydney will be thrilled; what do you think about Dawn? Should we tell her now, see if it helps her shape up a little faster?”

Nodding in support of Jamie's suggestion, Serena stared ahead, eyes on the evergreen trees lining the highway. Her eyes
fixed to the passing foliage, she couldn't muster the will to turn back toward her husband. Despite the smile plastered across her face, she feared he'd eventually see the truth in her eyes: the truth of the cold, blank cloud expanding throughout her heart and the face nesting its way into her mind. The same face that had lain in wait the past three months: Tony's.

“I
thought it was time I return your call.”

He paused, apparently listening to the anxious rhythm of Serena's breathing. Her brain told her lungs to slow down and stop exposing the emotions this man's voice stirred, but it was too late.

Gulping, she asked, “I'm sorry?”

“Serena,” he said, “this is Tony.”

“Oh.” She sat up straighter in her chair, subtly frosting her tone. “Kym and Devon told me about your accident. You've been in everyone's thoughts.”
Especially mine.
For the first two weeks of Tony's hospitalization, every detail of it relayed by Kym, she'd cried herself to sleep, wishing she had the simple freedom to send him a card or to even call. That was a pipe dream, of course; the painful nature of their breakup as well as the prickly question of why she called the night of his accident stood in the way. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm definitely worse for the wear, but happy to be around, if you know what I mean.”

Serena touched a hand to her throat. “Well, that's the right attitude. God, Tony, it sounded like a nightmare.” She let the sentence lie there, unsure whether to expound. “What can I do for you? Is everything all right with Devon and Kym?”

“I think they're fine,” Tony replied. “Actually, I haven't talked to them since I moved here.”

Tapping out an email to a colleague—an attempted distraction from the quivers in the pit of her stomach—Serena cleared her throat. “Oh, where are you living now?”

With no hesitation, no stammer, he said, “I need to see you today, Serena.”

“You're . . . here?”

He told her about his new job—chief operating officer for Rowan Academy, the bane of her employer's existence. The place she and Jamie were secretly considering for Dawn. The news didn't register at first; questions poured out of her before she could second-guess them. She had friends who'd interviewed for the Rowan COO job, and she knew that despite the boost the school had received from Arthur Champion, the pay wasn't in the range somebody like Tony would insist on. What the hell was he doing working there, of all places?

Coolly and crisply, he knocked down each of her questions, even insisting he'd always been intrigued by Cincinnati's contradictions—a slower-paced town with a few major-city trappings, enlivened by its infamous struggles with race. “There's problems everywhere, I figure,” he said. “But at least here, I'm free from the real headaches of a big city.”

Clearly confident about his choice, Tony sounded like a man at ease, seemingly oblivious to the one inconvenient fact about his relocation. Serena couldn't put her finger on it, but the more he talked, the more nervous she became. Too proud to just hang up but too frazzled by an already stressful afternoon to protect herself, she decided to face the music, get it over with. “Tony, I really don't have much time to talk. Is this about the wedding, when I called you?” She braced herself for his answer.

On his end of the phone, standing before his desk at the Whitaker Holdings office tower, Tony sighed.
Don't press her. Not yet.
“It's only about that,” he replied, “when you want it to be.” Against his every ounce of instinct, he shut his mouth and held the phone.

Serena's defensive reflexes filled the silence instantly. “I am at work, Tony.” The grinding of her own teeth made her wince in pain.

“What I'm calling about,” Tony responded, stifling any sense of embarrassment, “is a career opportunity you can't afford to pass up.”

“Oh, really? Ten years pass and you still know more about my life than I do, is that it?”

“Stay cool,” Tony said, grinning to himself. He really hadn't realized how much he missed the challenge of her—the intellect, the strength, the defiance. If he ever won her heart again, that would make it that much more impressive. “It's something you might want to consider. Will you just hear me out?”

Serena shook her head, working her neck to release the tension balling up within. “What is the opportunity?”

“The Rowan Academy needs a finance director. Between our booming bank accounts—thanks to Champion's cash, of course—and the rapid expansion we've planned, Rowan needs a dedicated financial professional—now. The Whitaker Holdings accountants have their hands full on the corporate side.”

Serena couldn't deny the flicker of interest Tony had already ignited, though she worked to conceal it. “That sounds like a step down for me, frankly. I already manage an entire school system's finances, you know.”

“Yes,” Tony replied, “but what do you get for that, besides bragging rights about overseeing a large staff and dozens of crumbling buildings? At Rowan you'll have the chance to truly make a difference. Face it, Serena. As a finance person, you don't have much say over how successful the schools actually are, whether you're here or there. The question is, do you want to steer the finances of a ship that's sailing over a cliff, or one that's on smooth waters?”

“Maybe I like the chance to keep a ship from going over the cliff,” she replied, shedding the nerves from the conversation's first few minutes. “It's easy to come off like a success in the first few years, Tony. I'd like to see how Rowan's doing ten years from
now. In the meantime, the majority of poor Cincinnati kids are relying on
my
employer, not yours.”

“I'm not going to argue with you,” Tony replied. “Just send Larry a resumé, please. He's choosing finalists to interview within the next couple of weeks. I think he needs to consider you.”

Serena's nose wrinkled as she said, “From what I hear, you all couldn't afford me.”

“Don't be so sure. Larry got me cheap, but that was mainly out of spite, since I passed on his first offer a few months back. If he's convinced you're the best candidate, he'll make it worth your while. Let me give you the address to mail the resumé to—”

“Don't bother,” Serena said, exhaling forcefully, eager to make her escape. “I'm not interested. Enjoy Cincinnati, okay?”

Taking a seat in his slick leather executive chair, Tony tapped his right foot anxiously. It wasn't like he'd expected a different reaction, but
damn
. “Fine,” he said. “If you're a spiritual person, Serena, all I can do is ask you to pray on it. I'd hate to see you pass up an opportunity that could land you in the executive suite of a powerful black-owned company, all to spite me.” He paused, considered retracting the last four words. “But, whatever.”

On her end of the phone, Serena's temples pulsed with rage, a rage she let fly free and far. “I'm going to tell you this one time,” she said. “Don't ever call me at work again—as a matter of fact, you don't need to ever call me
anywhere
. Did I call you the night of Kym's wedding, Tony? Yes. Why? Because in a lot of ways, my life is jacked up. Happy?”

Caught off guard, Tony simply held the phone.

His silence did nothing to cool the embers of her anger. “You couldn't even begin to live up to what the man in my life would have to handle. My daughters are at each other's throats, Dawn may be as screwy in the head as I was when we were together, and regardless of what I think of him, you better believe Jamie wouldn't give me up without a fight.”

“Wait a minute,” Tony said, on his feet now. “Back off for a second, will you? We all have problems, Serena. You think my life's some cakewalk?” When she didn't answer, he plunged ahead.
“If what we had was real, none of the things you mentioned would stop me from standing by your side. You know that.”

“Oh, sure,” she replied. She'd promised herself not to go there, but she was off the rails now. “Just like you stood by me back in the day, huh?”

Tony shut his eyes. “We should discuss this in person. Where can we—”

“I'm not meeting you anywhere, don't care to talk to you again once we hang up. Answer my question, Tony.”

“I saw the both of you with my own eyes, Serena. Heard you, saw you, damn near
smelled
you.”

Just referencing that afternoon made Tony shrink where he stood. Sixteen months into their roller coaster of a relationship, they'd been in a vague period. Together for three weeks, apart for two, together for one, apart for four. In the midst of all that, his stepmother, Stephanie, had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

She had never been perfect, but since the age of four she'd been the only mother Tony ever knew. For nearly a month he lost touch with Serena, spending more time at the hospital with Stephanie than his own father had. Of course, it was no coincidence he saw less of Serena during that time. Stephanie had played a small role in that.

“Don't wind up like your father.” Looking weary and worn, his stepmom croaked the words out hours before her most critical surgery. “You're such a fine young man,” she said, fingering his chin, “but you're repeating Wayne's mistakes when it comes to women, honey. In case I don't make it through this, do something for me, will you? Leave the bimbos alone. Date one girl at a time; focus on girls with promise. Girls who can offer you more than tits, ass, or a deep throat.”

Tony still recalled leaning over her hospital bed, gripping Stephanie's hand and smiling through teary eyes. “I'll try, Steph. I really will.”

“Don't just try,” she whispered. “Start small. Today. Who's the girl from Cincinnati, the one you bring by the house every now and again?”

“Serena?”

“Mmm,” Stephanie had mumbled, shaking her head in recognition. “A tramp. Already has a child she can't raise, scandalous history, gets around more than you do? You can't keep wasting your time with her, baby.”

Though Stephanie survived her surgery and still walked the earth today, living nicely on Wayne's alimony checks, it was as close as Tony had ever come to making a deathbed promise. As a result, he stood Serena up on one date after another until Stephanie came through surgery with flying colors and doctors were confident of her recovery. Only then did he allow himself to seek Serena out again, driving to her aunt's house that fateful afternoon, hoping to apologize for dropping off the face of the earth.

That visit bought him a hell of an eyeful. Through the curtains of Serena's first-floor bedroom, Tony watched her and Jamie Kincaid merge into one eight-limbed human being, rattling her poor twin bed with a force Tony had managed on only a handful of nights. Then there was the obvious familiarity between them; this was not their first time.

She had only made love to Jamie once in her aunt's house, so despite the fact they hadn't noticed Tony that day, Serena now knew exactly what he'd seen. The memory sobered her up; it occurred to her anew that she was reliving all this on her work phone.

“Tony,” she said, “that was one weak moment, one unfortunate coincidence. I guess because I never saw you with anyone else, that means you were spotless as Jesus, huh?”

“I didn't say that.” Even if Serena had other lovers in addition to Jamie, Tony knew that during their nonexclusive period he'd had three for every one of hers.

“I needed you,” she said, sucking a rebellious tear back inside her eyelid.

She had arrived at his apartment a few weeks after that afternoon with Jamie, newly diagnosed with her second pregnancy. Devon and Kym had relayed Tony's awareness of her dates with Jamie, but she'd already been through too much to live in shame.
She'd kept it real the second he opened his apartment door. “You may be a daddy.”

He let her in, and she broke down the math: she had conceived within two weeks of her last encounter with him and her first time with Jamie. Paternity would be an open question for the next seven months. One thing was certain, though: she was homeless, kicked out by a too-through Aunt Velma. “I'm all for second chances, baby,” Aunt Velma had said, head shaking in frustration, “but I'm no saint. My grace has limits.”

Serena still didn't know exactly what she expected from Tony that day, but his response was definitely not it. After she'd poured out everything within, painting the picture without asking for anything in particular, he'd clasped his hands and met her eyes with an icy stare. “Call me when you get the test results.”

As he shifted anxiously in his office chair, that very sentence rang in Tony's ears, just as it had the morning he burst through the doors of the church where she tried to marry Jamie. “I know you needed more than I gave you that day,” he said, his voice ringing hollow in his own ears. “I was a young, self-absorbed ass. If I could have that day back—”

“What does it matter?” Serena pinched the bridge of her nose, stemming a trickle of tears. “Sidney turned out to be Jamie's, so it's really not relevant. Besides, Tony, I know everything about your mom, the way she convinced you that you were too good for me.”

Freshly back on his feet, Tony found himself struck mute.

How did she know that?

“Everything worked out just as it was meant to,” Serena said, her tone officially business again. “Thank you for the call, and best wishes finding the right finance director.” She inhaled sharply, then slammed her phone down.