Full Circle Page 13

  Casey’s smile was anything but friendly. “My pleasure. After you, Nina.”

  Once they were gone, Mikaela splashed cold water on her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this upset, this frustrated with another person.

  “She’s gone,” Casey announced, leaning against the door jamb. “She says for good this time.”

  “Good.” She patted her face with a paper towel. “Can you believe the bull she was slinging? Misunderstanding? Really? Misunderstanding, my black butt. And yes, despite what you might have heard, I have nothing against black butts.” She exhaled. “Forget the last part. I know you know who I am.”

  “She obviously doesn’t.” Casey slung an arm over Mikaela’s shoulders. “Never has, so you need to let that go. She’s not worth another second of your thoughts.”

  “Part of me knows. The anger part wants to hang on. Prejudiced bitch.” She rested her head against Casey’s arm. “How did my life get to be such a mess? Crazy, asshat ex-girlfriend, who, for reasons known only to her, decides she wants me back. This despite my apparent lack in the blackness department. Where did this come from?” She pushed back, looked Casey in the eye. “Did you know she was like that?”

  “Hell no. You know I would have said something to her, then you. My best friend is part white. No dissin’ that on my watch.”

  “Why were we never girlfriends? You’re perfect for me.”

  “Too busy being friends.”

  “True. Okay, from now on I pay better attention.”

  “I say from now on, don’t be too busy trying to convince yourself you are in love.”

  Mikaela pouted. “Ouch. You should be nicer to me. Don’t forget about my other problem.”

  “Sara, who you swore was a one-night stand? That problem?”

  “This is not the time for ‘I told you so.’ It’s not my fault she doesn’t want to count past one despite the good times outside the bedroom. When you think about it, it’s not fair. I mean, would it be so bad to have Nina not want me and Sara panting after me?”

  “Depends. Would Sara get the crazy in that exchange?”

  “I’m not in the mood for philosophical discussions. What I want is something high in calories and low in nutritional values.” She opened the fridge, then closed it quickly to block out the sight of the good for you food. “Why did I let you talk me into going to the Farmers’ Market?”

  “Your idea. Remember the whole ‘needing to lose weight, eat healthy’ push?”

  “Adding insult to injury, Case. I want pizza. No, I deserve pizza. It’s been that kind of day.” Thumbing through the menus attached to the fridge, she pulled off the one for Carnus Pizzeria.

  “Don’t tell me you changed your mind about the job?”

  “Pizza first.” She speed-dialed Carnus and, as a concession to her diet, ordered a medium veggie pizza. If she added a salad, it would be almost healthy. “Thirty minutes to pizza heaven.”

  “Now maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

  “The job got posted today, totally jazzed up and with new requirements. Can I say I so want that job? But anyway, in true Christine fashion, she stormed into HR and pitched a fit about the job being tailored for some people, thus giving them an unfair advantage. Of course, she applied anyway. How do I know this, you ask? I’ll tell you. Her crony, Irene, made a point of telling someone when I just so happened to be in hearing distance. Then people started looking at me like I had something to do with it.” She opened the fridge and grabbed salad makings. “You’re having salad, by the way. Okay, so if that’s not bad enough, Christine’s waiting for me first thing, all pissy. Somehow she found out about the work I’m doing for Bill. And get this. She demanded to know why she wasn’t asked to do it. Seriously, though?” Mikaela grabbed a knife and sliced the cucumber with more force than necessary. “As if she could. It wouldn’t have been so bad except I was already pissy myself about you know who.”

  “The court concedes you do deserve pizza.”

  * * *

  At ten o’clock that night, Sara threw back the covers and admitted she wasn’t going to fall asleep. This despite being stupidly tired. Between the breakdown at the library and a six-mile run, she’d been sure deep, dreamless sleep was in her future. She’d been wrong again.

  Tabitha blinked at her, then found another spot to curl up.

  “Sorry,” she muttered and stepped into the sweatpants she’d recently discarded. Another night spent watching TV was obviously in her future.

  Once settled on the lumpy couch, she flipped through channels and settled on an old episode of Rizzoli & Isles. Soon though, her thoughts wandered. Not, as she expected, to her parents, but to Mikaela and last night. She’d managed to get through the day without seeing, let alone speaking to, Mikaela. On the one hand, that was good. It spared Mikaela another apology and another look of embarrassment on her face. On the other hand, she was curious about the situation with the ex. Wanted to make sure the ex wouldn’t cause Mikaela problems.

  Not that it had anything to do with her—Mikaela or the situation with her ex. Sure, Mikaela had helped her through a bad patch, had lain in her arms after making her feel more alive than she’d ever allowed herself to feel. Not necessarily a good thing for her lifestyle. She didn’t want another woman to have the ability to make her feel anything but lust. Maybe a little mental stimulation to fuel the lust. “And how dumb does that sound?”

  Sara sighed, flipping the remote from one hand to the next. Emotions never did what you wanted them to, making them a good thing to stay away from. And she’d been successful in doing just that until she picked Atlanta as her next place to live. If not for that, she might have gone her whole life without remembering. Gone without the nightmares filled with blood and tears. Without meeting a woman who wouldn’t stay out of her mind. Without a scrap of paper she always carried around, even though she knew the number by heart.

  Her phone was in her pocket, right where she left it. Without giving herself time to think it through, she dialed Mikaela’s number.

  “Please tell me Nina’s not threatening you again?”

  “No. No. I, uh, I didn’t get a chance to see you today, and you know, I wanted you to know I don’t blame you for last night. You can’t control other people’s behavior.”

  “Thanks, but I still feel guilty.”

  “Not your fault if she can’t accept rejection.”

  “Funny you should say that. She originally dumped me.”

  “Then she must be crazier than I thought. What’s her deal?”

  “You’ll know as soon as I do. But since I convinced her there’s no going back, we may never know. And, you know, I can live with that.”

  “I can live with not having to worry about her. That’s the first time I’ve ever been threatened in public. I can skip the repeat.”

  “Does that mean you’ve been threatened in private? Do tell.”

  “Me and my big mouth. Maybe we should move on to something else.”

  Mikaela laughed. “Did you manage to have any fun volunteering?”

  “I’m going to say you were right. But only if you don’t crow about it.”

  “Killjoy. Where’s my fun in that?”

  “No pouting. Okay. You’re allowed a teeny tiny bit.”

  “So…”

  “‘A needle pulling thread’?”

  “God, no. As in a teeny tiny bit of ‘I told you so.’ What in the world are you talking about?”

  Sara groaned. “Flashback. It’s a song from The Sound of Music. My aunt loved that movie. Loved as in she watched it over and over and over and sang along so loudly I could never get away from it. Seems it’s still stuck in my subconscious.”

  “Now I remember. That’s the song those kids were singing as they ran through the streets wearing clothes made from ugly curtains. The dad, was like, all upset about the singing when he should have been mortified that they were wearing hideous outfits in public.”

  “That’s your t
ake on the movie?”

  “Sure, there was the whole stand-your-ground-against-tyranny stuff. When you think about it though, he was a tyrant himself. So he softened up when he married the nun, but come on, I bet a year later he was back to his old controlling self. She would have been better off staying with the nuns. I mean, there was that cute one with the adorable accent.”

  “Interesting take on the movie. I believe my aunt’s head would have exploded by this point.”

  “Hey, I call them like I see them. It’s a skill.”

  “It’s, uh, something. What about you? Any movie overkills in your past?”

  “With my grandmother around? Even her favorite movie only got watched once a year. Any more than that and she thought it diluted the impact.”

  “Was she strict about everything?”

  “No. She was great. Stepped right in when the woman who gave birth to me opted out. Sure she was old-fashioned in a lot of ways, but they worked to my advantage. I’m where I am today because she took her responsibility seriously. I’ll never forget that.”

  Sara envied the obvious affection in Mikaela’s voice. “How old were you when your mother left?”

  “Real young. It was no biggie because I had my grandmother, my play mom and enough relatives to fill a stadium. There are few people who can compete with my stories of crazy relatives, let me tell you. But here we are talking about me again. Not that I mind talking about me, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. However, you were supposed to be telling me about the fun time I knew you would have.”

  “Don’t blame me if it’s not as entertaining as your stories.” Sara decided to share the story of her persistent three-foot-tall helper who, for reasons unknown to her, attached himself to her side for the whole day.

  “So after it was done, there wasn’t anything I could do but let him sit in my lap and share my food. Not when he was the boss’s grandson.”

  “And yet you somehow survive the ordeal and have a good time. Was he as cute as he sounds?”

  “I guess. Yeah,” she added grudgingly. “He gives sticky kisses though. And sticky hugs.”

  “They do tend to be sticky at that age.”

  “You…You don’t have any, do you?”

  “God, no! But when you have a big family, they come standard with every event. You have to be quick to dodge a lap plop and I never seem to be quick enough.”

  “You don’t sound like you mind.”

  “Not really. They cuddle so well, and when they start acting up, you can give them back.”

  “Which I was eventually able to do with my shadow.”

  “You know, you don’t sound like you minded all that much.”

  “Okay, you got me. It was kind of neat. But I should let you go.”

  After ending the call, Sara leaned back and smiled. Mikaela had come through again and taken Sara’s mind off her problems. No, she thought, Mikaela had done more than that. She’d cheered her up. Maybe tomorrow Sara would decide if that was a good or a bad superpower.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sara pump-faked, waited until her opponent was off balance, then took her shot. Nothing but net, she noted with a satisfied smile. Two points and game over. She slapped hands and accepted congrats from her teammates as they made their way to the bleachers and their belongings.

  “You up for a beer, superstar?” Jackie asked, toweling off sweat.

  “Not tonight.” Sara pulled on sweatpants, ignoring the question in Carmen’s eyes. She’d expended enough energy, and now she was ready to go home and chill. Maybe crawl into bed early and actually sleep the whole night.

  “You sure?” Carmen trailed a finger down Sara’s arm.

  “Maybe next time,” she replied kindly, not tempted by the heat from Carmen’s touch or the invitation in her eyes. How could she be when there was only one woman stubbornly clinging to her thoughts?

  “Call if you change your mind later. I’ll be available.” Carmen’s smile was full of promises.

  Not going to happen, Sara thought, even as she nodded. Aside from her jumbled feelings for Mikaela, Carmen had been strictly a one-night deal. The sex had been enjoyable, but there was nothing else to draw her back to that path. With a casual wave, she headed out.

  Outside, she zipped her jacket as the cold wind chilled her sweaty skin. Maybe she should consider making her next home in the Southwest, she thought, and started her car. Or even southern California, and maybe for longer than a year. But that would require more planning than she usually did. Any job wouldn’t do. Not when it had to last. Pulling out of the parking lot, she mulled over what her next job could be.

  She’d had plenty over the years. She needed to make a list, pick out the ones she’d liked best and go from there. Once she had a short list, she could research cities, see the type of jobs available. She’d been putting money aside with the idea of eventually going to college, doing something with the brain her high-school math teacher claimed she had. That was something else to throw into the mix.

  “This is good.” She pulled into the parking space near the door. She was actually planning, thinking ahead for a change. Thinking about a future, her future. She wasn’t sure a future would be complete, though, if she never made a connection to another human being.

  Unbidden, thoughts of Mikaela surfaced and Sara sighed. As much as she’d tried, Sara couldn’t get Mikaela out of her mind. And the more she thought about her, the more she didn’t want to think about her. She realized in hindsight that she shouldn’t have made that call Tuesday night. She’d been lower than low and instead of going out and picking up a woman for meaningless sex, she’d called Mikaela. And damn if she hadn’t ended up feeling better anyway.

  She’d been brainwashed somehow that night, she decided. That was the only explanation for her giving serious consideration now to trying something new. Something like getting to know Mikaela outside of the bedroom. Most people would call that dating, but Sara wasn’t sure she was ready for that big a step. She’d thought they could start small, be friends, then work toward something else.

  Which was a little crazy and explained why, when she’d woken up Wednesday morning besieged by old doubts and old fears, she’d dismissed the notion. And why, for the past two days, she’d kept her distance, treating Mikaela no differently than she did any of the other tenants. Sure, she knew she was being stupid, cowardly even, but so far that hadn’t been enough to make her call or try to explain her behavior. Hadn’t been enough for her to take a chance, find the off button so she could get out of the loop she was stuck in.

  Tabitha greeted her with a rumbling hello and a head-butt against Sara’s leg before looking toward the kitchen as if asking for another dinner.

  “No more food or you’ll get too fat.” As she stooped to pet the purring cat, a variety of aches and pains made themselves known. She’d pushed herself hard in the third and decisive game and was now paying the price for no longer being in her twenties. Another reason to start thinking of the future.

  “Soak time,” she told Tab, stretching out her back.

  Ten minutes later, she slid into the tub and exhaled. To her sore muscles the hot water felt like heaven. Resting her head against the back of the tub, she closed her eyes and replayed the last game. She might be on the verge of climbing into the top half of her thirties, but the moves were still there. Not as fast or as slick as they once were and yet enough for where she was now. Enough to score the winning points. She was going to have to look into a monthly membership before her pass ran out, make Thursday night ball a regular thing for as long as she was in Atlanta.

  Her lease ran for another seven months, giving her enough time to figure out what she wanted from life. Her parents were gone; that was a given. Nothing she did or didn’t do had caused their death. It was one of those “shit happens” things, a tragedy. But wherever her parents were, Sara had enough good memories of them to know they would have been glad she’d stayed hidden, glad she was still alive. They’d be glad, too, to kn
ow she was living her life fully. That’s what she should focus on, damn it, and not on running away from it like she was doing now. On living, not on moving here, moving there, always looking and yet never spending the time to find.

  Living fully also meant letting people in past the barriers she’d built around herself. That brought her back to Mikaela and her fears. Since she couldn’t seem to evict Mikaela from her thoughts, the fears had to go.

  “Tomorrow.” She’d start with the new her tomorrow.

  * * *

  Mikaela stared at the time on her monitor and willed it to change. It was Friday afternoon and she’d been ready to leave hours ago. After staying late three nights in a row, she considered it only fair she be allowed to leave early. Any minute Talya would be back from her last meeting of the day and decide it was time to close shop. Any minute, if the stupid clock would move faster.

  As she closed her eyes and rubbed her neck, Mikaela envisioned going home, changing into her rattiest sweats and spending the evening with a good book. Not exactly exciting plans, but someone had shut her down after their last conversation, so she didn’t feel like doing anything else.

  With a sigh, she opened her eyes and caught the startled expression on Debbie Larson’s face. Debbie was looking extra mousy today in a gray suit that seemed to leech what little color she had out of her complexion. Add to that the graying brown hair and a pair of unattractive glasses and you got someone who Mikaela thought must not want to stand out. “Help you?”

  Debbie shot a glance over her shoulder. “I wanted to wish you good luck with…you know,” she added quietly. “And to tell you to watch out.”

  Mikaela hid her surprise. Based on past history, this had to be a trick, courtesy of Christine and Ilene. They’d been glaring at her all week, and Debbie rarely did anything on her own. “Uh, thanks. What about you?”