at me and hands me a small stack of plates and silverware.
“Here, take this and set the table. Now, you know,” she continues as I head toward the table, “not all men are going to treat you like Darrel Jackson did. He was worse than a dog for all that he dressed nice and was a smooth talker.”
That’s putting it nicely. He talked his way into my heart and into bed, convinced me to partner with him in our own family real estate business. We set up a joint bank account, and I moved all my funds over. We made a few big sales, and it never occurred to keep track of his transactions. I didn’t question why he wasn’t making sales like I was, yet we were bleeding money due to random expenses. I told myself that was just how it was when you work for yourself. The day after a particularly big commission, I was shellshocked to find my condo emptied of his personal belongings and some of our more expensive joint purchases, an explosion of bad reviews that damaged my reputation due to his dishonest dealings with people, and every dime cleaned out of “our” bank account.
I don’t know what I would have done if Mama hadn’t helped me get back on my feet. Because of her, my business is on the rise and I have this nice little condo. It was a little lonely at first, but when Tonya separated from her ex, I was happy to be there for her. Darrel taught me a hard lesson about trusting men, though, especially good-looking, charismatic men charming their way into my life with sweet words, tender kisses, and extravagant gifts.
I give Mama a small smile as I finish setting out the silverware.
“Not all of us get a man like Mr. Davis,” I say with forced lightness.
“How do you know if you aren’t willing to even give them a test drive?”
A laugh busts out of me, and I grin over at her.
“Are you trying to tell me I need to get laid?”
Mama chuckles and gives me a knowing look.
“That’s not what I said, but if that gets the job done, then I guess I’d call that good enough. Regardless of what you do between the sheets, I want you to be out there having fun and giving yourself a chance to at least find someone special. All you do is work.”
“I have to in order to be successful. I had to start over with my five-year plan, and we both know that living doesn’t come cheap. I don’t have time for anything but work while I catch up again. Send a millionaire my way and maybe I’ll reconsider,” I joke.
“Well, you heard what Tonya said…” she replies with a smirk.
I throw my head back and groan.
“No. Please, Mama. I love her to death, but… just… no.”
“Hey!” Tonya objects. “I heard that. Suit yourself if you don’t want to take advice from the cards, but don’t go blaming the messenger.”
I smile at her. She means well, but I’m not pinning my hopes and plans on what her cards tell her. I’m too pragmatic to trust magic like I might have when I was younger. I found out the hard way that no amount of wishes or belief in magic and the impossible guarantees safety. I can only do that with my own efforts.
“Hmm… Not that it’s any of my business, but it sounds to me like you’re not even willing to hope, much less try. Makes it easier to discount your sister too,” Mama observes, gesturing at me with the wooden spoon in her hand.
My lips press together as I try to think of a good way to explain exactly why I can’t just go off on a lark hoping that any man I meet might be the one my sister claimed to see in her cards. I’m both startled and relieved when the doorbell rings.
“Saved by the bell,” I sigh gratefully.
Mama rolls her eyes as I hurry out of the kitchen and head toward the door. I have no idea who would come over this late, but I will listen to anyone’s pitch for whatever they’re selling just to escape that particular conversation.
“I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope for Girl Scouts,” I mumble.
Some thin mints sound pretty damn good right about now. An entire box and a bubble bath. That’s about as luxurious as I aim these days.
When I throw open the door, a familiar purple-eyed