Playing the Hand You're Dealt by Trice Hickman Page B

for a reaction. CJ was excited; Ms. Gerti looked irritated; and for the first time since he sat down, Ed looked engaged in what was happening.
    Brenda cleared her throat. “Well, you could say that. But I know once she sees how excited you are about the party, she’ll be excited, too.”
    CJ clapped his hands together. “Yeaaaaah, we’re gonna have a party!”
    Ed narrowed his eyes at Brenda while Ms. Gerti rolled hers. I knew that something was up, but there were too many dynamics going on for me to accurately discern what had caused the sudden shift in the room. Still, one thing was for sure, the only people happy about the party were an unknowing five-year-old, and Brenda.
    A few uncomfortable minutes passed in silence, so I felt obligated to try to lighten the mood. I made small talk until everyone started to feel a bit more at ease. After dinner I went up to my room and gobbled four extra-strength Tylenol. I had a headache just thinking about the party. I was grateful that Brenda thought enough of me to want to include me in a party that she was throwing for her daughter, but elaborate affairs weren’t my cup of tea. After a quick shower, I crawled into bed and called Samantha.
    â€œThe party’s just a ruse,” she said. “Mother’s planning this shit just so she can show off and get me hooked up with some straitlaced, weak-ass brother who she thinks is appropriate ,” she ranted. “And I know for a fact that she wants to throw a party that will top the one Mrs. Presley had last weekend.”
    â€œCouldn’t it just be that your mother wants to do something nice for you, for both of us?”
    â€œHell, no! This party has nothing to do with us. It’s all about her, you’ll see.”
    Brenda may have a heavy-handed way of doing things, but I wanted to believe that her intentions were good. I had to. Acknowledging her redeeming qualities and believing that she was essentially a good person was one of the things that kept me from making a big mistake—after all, how could I justify not only lusting after my best friend’s father, but also a good woman’s husband?

    I couldn’t believe today was Friday.The week had flown by in a whirlwind of activities, and luckily I’d managed to accomplish a lot. From standing in a ridiculously long line at the DMV to register my car and secure a DC driver’s license, to dropping off and picking up CJ from summer camp each day, to taking care of utility connections, I’d been on the go. I was glad to have a list of things to occupy my time because it served to keep my mind busy.
    Ever since my intense eye contact with Ed on Monday morning, and the news about my birthday party later that evening, I’d been on edge. I had kept my distance from him all week. I would leave my room only when I was sure he had already left for the day, and I made certain that I was out of sight when he returned in the evening.
    But this morning as I sat at the kitchen table waiting for him, I had to push my uneasiness aside because I needed his help. Emmanuel hadn’t returned any of my phone calls or responded to my texts or e-mails all week. I planned to meet Ruben at my house at noon. And in the last message I’d left for Emmanuel, I told him as forcefully as I could that he’d better be there, too. I hoped that Ed could pressure him into showing up. Samantha was right, having Esquire at the end of your name could make people change their tune.
    I pressed my back against the soft fabric of the chair, listening, as I heard the soles of Ed’s expensive leather shoes click against the hardwood floors down the hall. He was surprised to see me when he entered the kitchen. “Ah, the early riser is back.” He smiled, placing the newspaper on the table. He walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee.
    â€œGood morning,” I said. I watched him as he reached over and pushed the button on