The Unexpected Affair. Monica Richardson
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turn in for the night, as well. Three o’clock in the morning usually came knocking a lot sooner than he was ever ready for.
* * *
Lane pulled his Ford F-150 into the parking lot. Sat there for a moment and gathered his thoughts. It was early, and though he’d done these hours for many years, he still needed a moment each morning. He listened to the ending of the song on his playlist before finally shutting the engine off. Made his way across the gravel to the office and punched the time clock. He made his way over to his cement truck, hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He smiled at the rumble of it. He hopped out and then did an inspection of his truck. Priscilla, he called her. He and Priscilla had been together for many years. He’d been with Priscilla longer than his ex-wife.
When he heard the sound of a notification on his phone, he pulled it out of his pocket.
Don’t forget about LJ’s game, the text read.
Helena had a bad habit of reminding him of things he already knew. Two games. He’d had to work late a couple of times and missed two games, and she hadn’t let him forget it.
I’ll be there, he typed.
And don’t forget he needs new sneakers, she added.
Got them already.
He was becoming more irritated by the moment. He didn’t need her reminding him of things he already knew. He wasn’t her husband anymore. In fact, she had new a husband now. She needed to tend to what’s-his-name and stay out of his affairs with his son. He and LJ had things under control. They talked every afternoon when he got out of school. LJ kept his father abreast of his game schedule, his grades and everything that was important to him. He’d even asked for advice about girls on occasion—a rare occasion.
LJ was somewhat shy, laid-back. Unlike his father at that age, who was a social butterfly. He’d had no problems talking to girls in high school, and certainly not in college. Being a star running back at both schools, he was popular. There was no need for him to chase, because girls flocked to him. And he basked in the glory of it—until that one girl captured his heart. The one he married. The one who broke his heart. They were supposed to live happily ever after, but his happily-ever-after quickly changed when she walked out of his life, their son in tow. He swore that no one would ever get the chance to do that to him again. Ever.
He placed the hard hat on his head and secured his reflective safety vest around his torso. He turned up the volume on the radio—listened to the antics of the disc jockeys on the hip-hop station, K104. He slowly pulled the cement truck out of the parking lot and headed for his first job of the day. Tried not to think about Whitney, but he couldn’t help it. She was already creeping into his thoughts, uninvited.
She sat on the rooftop patio, at the high-top table, and sipped on a glass of water. She checked her watch. It was already seven fifteen. They’d agreed to meet at seven, and she was there at six forty-five. She was always prompt and expected nothing less from her suitors. Promptness was an item on her Man Menu. It was right up there with cleanliness. In the past, she’d have walked out and never answered her phone again. But something made her sit there and wait, even as seven thirty flashed across the big-screen television where the Cowboys had just scored a field goal.
“Can I get you something else to drink, ma’am?” asked the blond-haired server.
“She’ll have a Heineken,” said the male voice behind her, “and one for me, too.”
She wanted to tell him about his tardiness. Had already rehearsed the speech in her head, but when she looked at his beautiful chocolate face and he flashed that beautiful smile, everything she thought she wanted to say dissipated. He cleaned up well, and the jeans and black shirt were a nice change from his work attire. Lane kissed her cheek and took a seat across from her at the table.
“What makes you think I wanted a beer?”
“It’s a sports bar. The game is on...” He grinned. “I can order you something else if you’d like.”
“What makes you think I wanted you to order for me at all?” She almost smiled. “I’m fully capable of ordering for myself.”
“I couldn’t tell. When I walked in, you were sipping on a glass of water.” He grabbed a menu and began to look it over.
“You were late,” she mentioned.
“I’m sorry. My last job lasted a little later than expected. I had to rush home, shower and change.”
“No text to say ‘I’m running late’?” she asked.
“I’m so sorry. That was totally inconsiderate of me,” he said. “Forgive me?”
She grabbed a menu and held it up to her face. “This time,” she said.
“Thank you.”
The server placed a beer in front of each of them. She looked at the green bottle and watched as Lane poured his into the chilled mug. She wasn’t a beer drinker but liked the idea of trying something new. She poured hers into the mug and took a sip. It wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated.
“So what are you having?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You seem to know what I like.”
“What do you like?”
“I’d like for my date to be on time. And in the future, if he’s going to be late, I’d like for him to call or text and let me know.”
“So you’re saying there will be another date. Or should I say, future dates.”
“Let’s get through this one first.” She smiled at him.
He was easy to be with, she noted. Some dates were so strained, uncomfortable.
“Fair enough,” he said.
“I’ll have the fire hot wings,” she said.
“Can you handle the fire hot wings?” he asked with a grin.
She peeked over the top of the menu. Took note of how handsome he was—dark face, silky smooth skin, perfectly trimmed hair and mustache with just a hint of gray. His arms were strong, and his hands were huge. She wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by those arms, but more than that she wondered what the story was behind those sad eyes.
“I can handle a lot,” she flirted.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She smiled.
“I know you teach kindergarten for a living, but what do you do for fun?” he asked.
“I sing, play the piano and write music.”
“Really?” He was surprised. “Let me hear something.”
“No!” She smiled.
“Why not? It’s just me and you,” he encouraged.
“Not the time or place.”
“Chicken.”
“I guess I am,” she said. She felt comfortable with him, but not comfortable enough to sing. Not just yet.
“Fine. One day.”
“One day.”
“You’re beautiful.” He watched her, and even when she looked away, he didn’t break the stare.
“Thank you,” she said while looking at the television.
“Your accent is sexy,” he said. “I bet you get that all the time, though.”
“I get it quite a bit.”
“So what do you do when you’re not teaching children or singing?”