Every Chance I Get. AlTonya Washington

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СКАЧАТЬ watched Misha disappear into the crowd. “Now I’ve done it, haven’t I, mate?” He chuckled as the baby seemed to coo in agreement.

      “What the hell do you mean, you’re sorry?” Misha had bolted away from Talib only to have her temper freshly stoked when her best friend forbid her to leave.

      Riley cringed and waved her hand to ward off Misha’s frustration. “I hope you don’t whine like that around Ahmad. ’Cause I’ll bring him over for you to deal with if he ever starts it.”

      Misha folded her arms over the draping bodice of her dress. “Well, I’ll be happy to take him home with me right now. I just can’t stand to be here for another minute. No offense.”

      “Mmm-hmm.” Riley didn’t veer from her task of adding more hors d’oeuvres to a platter while lecturing Misha at the same time. “And is it the party or Talib you’re running away from?”

      “Oh come on now, Riley.” Misha reached over to swipe two of the goat-cheese pastries from the platter. “You know, this is some thanks I get after all my understanding about you and Asher.”

      “Dammit,” Riley hissed, almost cutting her finger upon listening to Misha. “Right. Understanding. Well, if understanding means feeling kicked around by your best friend, then I guess you were tremendously understanding.”

      “Motherhood has made you cold.” Misha’s tone was matter-of-fact.

      Riley finally took pity and turned to cup her friend’s face. “What’s this really about?”

      Misha pulled Riley’s hands away. “It’s really about him being here. Him being back in my life, so to speak, after six years when he’s supposed to be back in Phoenix. Even if it is just temporary.”

      “Right.” Riley puffed her cheeks nervously and turned back to the goat cheese spread.

      “Hold it.” Misha grabbed Riley by the chain belt at her waist. “Spill it.”

      “I really need to get this stuff out—”

      “Riley!”

      “All right!” She set the knife on the counter. “Well, you already know he’s here helping Asher with the new office.”

      “Right. And?”

      “And…he may be here awhile.”

      “What’s ‘a while’? Weeks?” she probed when Riley wasn’t forthcoming with an answer. “Months? Months, Riley?”

      “Oh, stop it, please.” Riley propped a hand to her hip. “You knew this wasn’t something that could be done overnight.”

      “Just tell me he’s definitely going back to Phoenix and not moving out here.” Misha leaned against the counter and rested her face in her hands. She looked up when Riley didn’t respond right away.

      “He’s definitely going back to Phoenix and not moving out here.”

      “Humph.” Misha’s lashes fluttered as she rolled her eyes. “I’d be better off asking Asher.”

      “Ha! Like he’d tell you anything Talib asked him not to. Those two are thick as thieves.” Riley shrugged and turned back to the platter. “I used to think we were thick as thieves.”

      “What are you talking about?” Misha’s tone was absent as she worried over Talib’s next move.

      Riley tucked a clipped lock of her hair behind her ear and grimaced. “When are you gonna share the real and full story on you and Talib?”

      Misha stopped biting her thumbnail and frowned at her friend.

      “I know there’s more you haven’t told me.”

      “What more is there to tell? You know the messiest part of it all.”

      “That you went down an ugly road.” Riley went to put the spread back inside the refrigerator. “That’s all you told me and to this day I’ve got no idea what that means.”

      “Jeez, Riley, do you need me to spell it out for you?”

      “Yes. You bet I do when I see you this way. Running from a man isn’t something you do. I’ve seen you pounce a lot of brothers but never run from them.”

      Misha’s wrapped hair covered her face more fully when she bowed her head again. “They weren’t Talib.”

      “Will you promise to come and talk to me if you need it?” Riley decided against putting on more pressure and extended her hands.

      Misha accepted the offer and kissed her friend’s cheek before they hugged.

      “This is the most important thing anyone will ever tell you, man. Fumble is the worst word in the English language.”

      Talib and Ahmad were catching the last quarter of a pre-season football game while they relaxed in the den. Talib occupied one of the deep suede armchairs and propped his feet up on an ottoman. Ahmad was beginning to doze from his cozy position near his uncle’s chest.

      “What’s goin’ on, fellas?” Asher greeted when he found the two camped out before the television. “What’s the score?” He tickled Ahmad’s cheek then chose a spot on the other armchair.

      “Twenty-eight, twenty-one. Not in our favor,” Talib announced.

      “How’s Wade?” Asher referred to one of their newest clients, Nevil Wade.

      “Sharp as usual, but the bloke can’t do much with the so-called help he’s got.”

      Business consumed the conversation for several moments. In the midst of it, Talib kissed his nephew’s head and passed him over to his dad.

      “So why’re you holed up in here?” Asher queried when a commercial broke into the game. “Tons of people out there are wanting a second of your time.” He tossed his tie over his shoulder and settled in more comfortably with Ahmad. “I’d appreciate the truth,” he tacked on. Seconds passed before he accepted there would be no response from his friend. “You and Misha avoiding each other when you want to be right next to each other…seems pretty stupid.”

      “I’ve been considering more exposure for the new branch.” Talib slipped his feet back into the polished tan wing tips he’d been sporting.

      “Are you crazy? We’ve been getting exposure left and right.”

      “Print exposure.”

      Asher smiled. “What have you got in mind?”

      The look Talib slanted was answer enough.

      “Hell, man, why don’t you just go and talk to her?”

      “That’s all I want.” Talib stood and walked over to lean against the tall pine bar in the room. “But she wants no part of it—of me.”

      “That’s a lie, you know.” Asher’s voice was light as he nuzzled his son’s hair.

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