The Unexpected Affair Read online

  “Take lots of pictures.”

  “Be careful. You barely know this guy,” said Tasha. “I watch the Investigation Discovery channel, girl, and I don’t wanna see you on it.”

  “Tasha, I’m ready for you, honey,” said Patrice.

  Whitney was glad when Patrice finally called Tasha. She loved her friend, but she could take only so much of her.

  “I’m not going to the Bahamas with Jason,” Whitney whispered to Kenya.

  “What?” Kenya eyeballed her. “Who, then?”

  Whitney simply smiled.

  “The truck driver?” Kenya asked.

  “Shhh!” Whitney said. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

  “Well, how should I say it? You’re the one with this Man Menu that no one can seem to live up to.”

  “We all live by the Man Menu.”

  “You certainly do. No man can ever live up to yours.”

  “I know. But I have to admit, I kind of like him.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s fun and genuine. There’s something there, like we have this chemistry. I can’t explain it, Kenya. It’s like I’ve known him forever.”

  “Wow.” Kenya placed her palm on Whitney’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

  “Stop. I’m serious,” said Whitney. “When I kissed him last night...”

  “You’ve kissed him already?”

  Kenya grabbed a magazine from the coffee table, covered her face with it. “Well, actually, he kissed me, but I wanted more. So much more. There, I said it.”

  Kenya snatched the magazine from her. Smiled. “Well, damn.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s why you’re all up in the beauty shop, trying to get cute. Fussing over your trifling fingernails.”

  “Don’t tell Tasha,” whispered Whitney.

  “You don’t have to worry about me saying a word. I don’t want to hear her mouth.”

  “Me neither,” said Whitney. “Besides, we’re just having fun.”

  “Of course.”

  “I needed a date for my brother’s reception, and he just happened to be available. That’s all it is.”

  “Right.”

  “No, really. You know I could never be serious about anyone. I run them all away. You know that.” She said it in a lighthearted manner but knew it was the truth.

  “You’ll give in to the right one. And you’ll know he’s the right one, too,” said Kenya. “Just like I knew that my Will was the right one. He’s a good man, and I can’t wait to marry him.”

  When Kenya was called to the shampoo bowl for a wash, Whitney exhaled. She’d been so busy trying to convince her friend that this thing with Lane was nothing, when really she was trying to convince herself.

  When she left Patrice’s shop, she was happy with her hairstyle. It was somewhat of an edgy style—something that she would normally never have had the courage to try, but she’d decided to step outside her conservative box a bit. She’d heard rave reviews from a few of the teachers at her school about a new nail shop in the Arts District. She didn’t usually frequent that part of town but decided to give it a try. She pulled into the parking lot but sat in her car for a moment—enjoyed the last few minutes of Tamia’s “You Put a Move on My Heart.” It made her think of Lane. He was certainly putting a move on her heart.

  When she looked up, she spotted Will, Kenya’s fiancé, walking out of the ice-cream shop. She held her head low, didn’t want him to see her. She had no intention of explaining why she’d blown his friend off. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but she’d known immediately that he wasn’t her type. Or maybe he could’ve been her type, but she wasn’t at all interested in finding out. Her interests lay elsewhere.

  She averted her eyes to the dashboard in her car, pretended to change the station on her radio. When she looked up, Will was standing right in front of her car, and a tall bronze-colored model-like woman had her arm looped inside his. He wrapped his arm around the woman’s neck and pulled her face to his—kissed her passionately. She touched his face with her palm and then wiped the traces of lipstick from his lips. They laughed about something and then the woman walked away toward her two-door Mercedes-Benz and hopped into it. Will watched her every move like a lovesick puppy and then headed toward his SUV.

  Whitney was frozen. She should’ve said something, confronted him, cursed him, even. But she couldn’t move. She was stuck, and she tried to make sense of what she’d just witnessed. Her heart beat fast and her hand trembled as she reached for her cell phone and began to search for Kenya’s phone number. She rested her head against the leather seat and wondered how she was ever going to tell her dearest friend that the man she intended to marry in just a few months was a cheat.

  Her mind went back to the time in college when she’d fallen out with Kenya over a man. Foster Payne was the handsome quarterback who’d dated Kenya but was secretly making passes at her. She’d immediately told Kenya about it but was accused of trying to steal her man.

  “He told me you were making passes at him,” Kenya had accused.

  “And you believe him instead of me?”

  “Yes.” Kenya had stated it emphatically.

  “Fine. Be stupid, then,” Whitney spat and vowed never to speak to her again.

  As it turned out, Whitney hadn’t been the only one of Kenya’s friends that Foster had made passes at. His sole purpose in attending college was to party and sow his wild oats. Kenya eventually got over Foster, but the aftermath had left their friendship a bit unsettled—for at least half of their sophomore year, they barely spoke. But once they hashed out their differences, they’d promised that a man would never come between them again. Yet here she was again, faced with having to repeat history and hand Kenya some bad news about her guy. Only this time, the stakes were higher. They weren’t young college kids anymore, and this wasn’t about a boy sowing his wild oats. This was about a man who was a few months from meeting her at the altar.

  She tossed her phone against the leather seat. Couldn’t bring herself to make the call. No. If she was going to risk their friendship again, it was something that needed to be done in person.

  Chapter 10

  He sat in the chair, a cape draped around him. The buzz from the clippers filled his ear as Cleveland lined up his fade.

  “I think the Chiefs can still pull it off,” he said.

  “Just like you said that Sanaa Lathan was better-looking than Halle Berry.” Melvin folded the Dallas Morning newspaper and pointed it at Lane. “You need your head checked.”

  “She is,” said Lane. “And a much nicer body, too.”

  “Psst.” Melvin blew wind through his lips. “Man, you are crazy.”

  “I have to agree,” Cleveland chimed in. “Much better body.”

  “I think Halle’s kind of played out,” Tim said as he trimmed Old Man Jackson’s mustache with a straight razor.

  “I don’t know about that, young man. Halle Berry is a good-looking woman,” said Old Man Jackson.

  “Can we get back to the NFL? I got some money on who’s going to the Super Bowl, and it ain’t the Chiefs,” said Tim.

  “You are crazy!” Lane exclaimed. “Man, the Chiefs are seven and three.”

  “Raiders going all the way this year,” said Big Steve, who was patiently waiting for his turn in the chair.

  “I don’t know. Chiefs might have a chance,” said Cleveland. “But my money’s on the Broncos.”

  “You have a right to your opinion,” said Lane with a chuckle.

  “Be still if you want this line straight,” said Cleveland.

  “You mess up my line, and that’s your ass!” said Lane, and laughter filled the room. “I need it to be perfect.”

  “Yep, for Bahamas,” said Melvi
n as he opened the newspaper again and held it up to his face.

  “What’s that? Bahamas?” Cleveland asked.

  “More like who’s that?” said Melvin. “Bahamas is a person.”

  “Who’s Bahamas?”

  “Just this little woman I met. She ran into my truck...”

  “She didn’t see that big-ass truck you drive?” Cleveland asked, and the room filled with laughter again.

  “She was a little distracted,” said Lane. “Look at all this goodness. You would be distracted, too.”

  “Aw, man.” Melvin threw his hand toward Lane.

  “She got him love struck?” Cleveland asked Melvin with a laugh.

  “Hell no, I’m not love struck!”

  “Took her to the Mavs game last night...knowing good and damn well that was my seat!”

  “Man, jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” said Lane.

  “Not jealous, but you know chicks don’t appreciate basketball.”

  “Well, this one does,” said Lane. “She knows a little something about sports.”

  “Whoa!” said Melvin. “Defensive, aren’t we?”

  “You like this girl, huh?” asked Cleveland as he loosened the cape from around Lane’s neck and brushed away the stray hairs.

  “She’s all right. We hung out a little bit. Nothing more than that.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Melvin sang. “He’s catching feelings.”

  “No! Never that,” said Lane.

  “He’s going with her to the Bahamas, to meet her family.”

  “What?” everyone in the barbershop asked in harmony as all eyes landed on Lane.

  “It’s not what you think. I’m her date for this little gathering...her brother’s wedding reception or something.”

  “That’s a long way to travel for a date,” said Tim.

  “I have some vacation time to burn. Really, it’s no big deal.”

  “Get off the man’s case,” said Old Man Jackson. “You need to live, son. Go have a good time. Don’t let these fellas get to you. If you like the woman, then you just do. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Exactly,” said Lane as he stood, brushed his clothes. He reached for Old Man Jackson’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson.”

  “Anytime, young man.”

  “Let’s go, Big Head,” said Lane to Melvin after he paid for his haircut.

  * * *

  Lane and Melvin took their usual seats at the bar. Max’s was always packed on a weekend. It was where crowds gathered to watch sports and to drink for hours.

  “Gimme a Heineken, Max,” said Lane. “And give this chump one of those little sissy drinks.”

  Max laughed as he set a beverage napkin in front of each of them.

  “I’ll take a Bud Light, Max. And a shot of tequila,” said Melvin.

  “What are you doing behind the bar, anyhow?” Lane asked.

  “One of my guys didn’t make it in today,” said Max as he placed a beer in front of Lane and another one in front of Melvin. “Good help is hard to find.”

  “You’re a jack-of-all-trades.” Lane turned up his beer.

  “You have to be in this business. Sometimes I have to roll up my sleeves and wash a few dishes, too,” said Max.

  “I hear you,” said Lane. “It’s why I love this place. Owner is down to earth.”

  “It feels like home,” Melvin added.

  “Well, I appreciate your business. Both of you have been coming here for as long as I can remember.”

  “Always will.”

  Max leaned in, and spoke almost in a whisper. “That is, if we remain open. It’s getter harder by the day to keep these doors open.”

  “It looks like business is booming. Always crowded when I come in here.”

  “When that new investor came in and bought up the shopping plaza, he raised my rent. Made it almost impossible for me to make ends meet. Wants to drive some of the older businesses out of here. Turn this place into something fancy that caters to the higher class.”

  “What? Max’s has been here for years,” said Lane.

  “A cornerstone of the neighborhood,” Melvin tossed back his shot of tequila.

  “These young, ambitious developers don’t care about that. They’re about making money. That’s it,” said Max. “He’s waiting for me to lose the space so that he can turn it into something else. He’s already alluded to that.”

  “You do so much for this community, though, Max. Like feeding the hungry and those clothes drives.”

  “And what about that barbeue you held out back last summer to raise money for that children’s shelter?”

  “Yeah, I have to take care of my community,” said Max. “What about you, Lane? You do a lot for this community, too, man. You’re always volunteering at the shelters. And you do that Big Brother thing with the kids year round. That’s admirable.”

  “I have a kid of my own, and I don’t wanna see any child go without.”

  “That’s right, man,” said Max. “Wherever I fall short, I know you’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Damn right,” said Lane. He and Max’s fists touched in agreement.

  “Maybe you can take Max’s off my hands. I’ll sell it to you at a good price.”

  “What are you talking about...sell Max’s.” Lane laughed, but Max wasn’t laughing.

  “My wife and I are divorcing, and...”

  “What?” Lane and Melvin said it in unison.

  “Yeah, we’ve kept it under wraps for a while, but it’s happening. And with everything that’s going on, I can’t afford to keep this place going. I’m sinking every day.”

  “But you and the missus...you’ve been married forever.” Lane was disappointed. Seeing the two of them in Max’s together over the years had given him somewhat of a glimmer of hope that love really existed.

  “Some good things come to an end.”

  He felt some type of way about Max’s news. Couldn’t shake it. “You’re serious.”

  “Hey, man, you told me once that you had some money put away—and you were looking for something to invest in. Well, here you go!” said Max. “I’d rather see you keep Max’s alive than the developer transforming it into something else.”

  “You did say that,” Melvin agreed as he took a sip of his beer.

  “It would be a smooth transition. And I would give you a good price,” said Max as he grabbed Lane by the shoulder. “Give it some thought.”

  Max wiped down the bar and then disappeared into the kitchen. Lane entertained the thought of his proposition for a moment, but then his thoughts immediately drifted back to the talk of divorce. People were always splitting up, he thought. Nobody stayed together. His father had split when he was five. And then his own divorce left him emotionally drained. What was appealing about love and commitment, if people never actually committed? It was a worthless waste of time for all parties involved. However, the thought of owning a business was appealing, but did he really want to own a bar? And could he afford the rent and the staff? And would he be driven insane like Max had been with all the craziness that had gone on over the years?

  He would give it some thought, but for now he needed to focus on this impending trip to the Bahamas. A trip that he was feeling less and less excited about now.

  Chapter 11

  Her heart ached. Every inch of it. She knew that she needed to talk to Kenya before leaving for the Bahamas, but knowing and doing were two very different things. And so far, she’d held on to this secret for two weeks and carefully avoided Kenya’s calls. Her text messages were short and to the point—not their usual friendly banter. She thought about that day and how she’d started out driving toward Kenya’s condo in North Dallas but turned her car around in midstream. Headed home instead.
She knew it was wrong, but avoiding the inevitable seemed easier. She didn’t want to lose her friend again.

  She tossed her swimsuit into the bag and sipped on a glass of Riesling as Lalah Hathaway’s voice soothed her soul. She shook her head. Just when she thought there was a glimmer of hope for love, she’d lost it in an instant. She couldn’t remember ever truly loving anyone after Gregory, and if it were left up to her, she’d never love again. Love was too painful.

  She’d picked up her phone a dozen times over the past week—wanted to call Lane and tell him that she didn’t need him to accompany her to the Bahamas after all. She was fully capable of making the trip alone. She hated that she’d even invited him in the first place. Hated that she’d bumped into his cement truck to begin with. But now that she had invited him, she would go along with their original plans. She’d take an Uber and meet Lane at DFW Airport at the crack of dawn. Get this over with so that she could get back to her single solitude—her life before handsome truck drivers existed in it. Back to her life where the only men who existed were the ones who could never live up to her Man Menu.

  * * *

  He was an early bird. Had already texted that he was waiting for her at the security checkpoint. He gave her the widest grin when he saw her—a genuine one that he’d given her the last time she saw him. It made her heart sink. It was sweet, and one that said It’s so good to see you. Though he wasn’t a man who laid on the compliments like plaster, she could tell that he was pleased with what he saw.

  “You made it,” he said and pulled her into an embrace and kissed her cheek. His cologne delighted her nose.

  “Of course,” she said. “Were you hoping I didn’t show up?”

  “No,” he said. “Were you considering not showing up?”

  “No.”

  “Well, good.” He grabbed her carry-on bag and draped it over his shoulder.

  Always a gentleman, she noted. Couldn’t knock him in that area, for sure. He touched the small of her back as he pushed her to go ahead of him toward the TSA agent.

  * * *

  She sat in the window seat and lifted the blind. “I know men have an issue with sitting in the middle seat, so I’d be happy to switch seats with you if necessary.”