The Side Effects of You Read online

  Then I heard the door open. Breathe, I reminded myself, because with just one touch from him, I’d forgotten how to. I let out a loud sound as the air escaped from my chest. How dare he just show up out of the blue? It had been eleven, maybe twelve years since I had seen him, and I was pissed that he had actually shown his handsome face.

  I had blocked out my memories of him, and now, since he’d decided to show his face, he had jolted the emotions and feelings that I had managed to bury in the bottom of my sea of memories.

  I was nineteen and a full-time student in cosmetology school when Quentin left me. He was in his second year at Chicago State University, and I thought he’d be mine forever, but, boy, was I wrong. We had been friends, for the most part, since about the fifth grade, but we hadn’t dated until our junior year of high school.

  We had always been cool, but one school trip changed all of that. We had to partner up to be able to explore the planetarium unsupervised, and since all his boys partnered up with their girlfriends, and the nerds latched onto the other nerds, we were the only two left who weren’t considered weird, so we quickly joined hands as partners.

  As we walked around, we talked and joked, and I learned some things about Quentin that I never knew, and he about me too. After our six-hour day of bliss, we sat on the bus together and rode back to school holding hands. That evening, before I left the school grounds, I had my first real kiss. Yes, a tongue kiss with Quentin. He was popular—he was a hoop star on the varsity team back then—so when I became his girlfriend, I became one of the popular girls.

  After months of fondling and going to second base, I let him deflower me the summer right before our senior year. I gave him the goods, and we were stuck together like glue. He was the love of my life, and when I graduated, we moved in together. That miracle happened because my father owned a couple of duplex buildings back then, and as long as we were in school and maintained the utilities, he let us live rent free.

  Things took a nosedive when the college girls came into Quentin’s life. Since he was still playing ball and was popular, girls came along with the territory. Fun became his middle name. He never came home at the time he said he’d be home, and it was always his friends this and school that. It was never us anymore.

  The breakup came when I found out I was pregnant. What a horrible mess that was, because Quentin was angry and upset. He talked me into terminating the pregnancy. I didn’t even tell my parents what I had done, and two weeks after I killed my first child, Quentin told me that he wanted to do other things.

  He went on and on about his future this and his future that, and he asserted that if he stayed with me, I’d hold him back. He said that love didn’t fit into the equation for him, and that if we remained together, I would be the reason he didn’t go places. I was mortified. He acted as if I was a ball and chain, when all I wanted to do was love him. When he moved out, I was devastated, hurt, confused, and heartbroken. He was the love of my life, and I never thought I’d smile again.

  After the sad breakup, I turned to God and started going to church all the time with a classmate of mine, Sheila. That was when I met Jeremiah. He asked me out, but I turned down his invitation. He was persistent and didn’t give up on asking me out. I finally said yes.

  Sheila talked me into it. “Girl, what is wrong with you? Jeremiah is fine, and you know he is going to be a pastor at his daddy’s church one day. He’s a God-fearing and good-looking guy. How could you pass him up? I mean, there will be no pressure for sex, and you will someday be first lady at our church.”

  “I don’t want to be first lady. I want to be the baddest hair and makeup artist Chicago has ever seen. I don’t know if I’m godly enough to live up to that position.”

  “Girl, ask God to guide you. You’re not wicked, Andrea, and the flaws you do have are not sinful. Like, running late for class won’t send you to hell. Going to the store in your pj’s won’t send you to hell. You’re a good girl.”

  With that, I went out with Jeremiah. He was so sweet back then. And I learned that a man on a mission to become a pastor would still try to get into your panties. We certainly didn’t wait until after we had exchanged vows to exchange sexual fluids. After a period of time, we gave in to our flesh. It was only three or four times in that year we dated, and we both repented.

  All I knew back then was that no matter how great Jeremiah was, he didn’t make me feel the way Quentin had made me feel. The sex was good when we were having it, but he didn’t make my body quiver the way Quentin had. Jeremiah was a conservative lover, and oral was out of the question. He refused to do me, but, of course, he’d gladly let me do him without hesitation. He stuck to the scriptures on how women were created for men, and not the other way around.

  In love and longing to be in a relationship with a good, godly man, I listened and allowed it to go that way. I convinced myself that Jeremiah always had my best interests at heart and that he put God first. Yes, we had slipped, had had a couple of sinful moments, but we had always confessed, prayed, and asked God to deliver us from our fleshly ways. Spiritually, we connected. I fell in love, and we got married. He took over his daddy’s position in our church, and all was good.

  That was before the expansion of the church, before the church became a business, versus a house of worship. After the expansion we had paid staff members and paid musicians. Before that, I was used to folks working full-time jobs and doing church services for free. But our church had been on its way to being a mega church back then, and now it was one of the largest in Chicago. Nothing like the old days.

  Jeremiah even asked me to give up my career to be a full-time first lady, but that wasn’t going to happen. I made serious money and had invested a lot of time and energy into my craft. I was doing what God had created me to do, which was to enhance beauty. I had never seen an ugly person, everyone had something special about them that they could accentuate, and I was there to help them do it.

  Even though Jeremiah knew that was my dream, he pestered me about leaving my profession, something I knew Quentin would never have done to me. Quentin had been so supportive that he used to let me practice on him, and I’d promised never to tell anyone. But most of all, he had loved me.

  Those were the good old days. Now they were just memories, and I hated the fact that Quentin had shown up and shaken up my memories of him and us.

  I finally moved from the spot I had stood in for five minutes after he left. I knew I needed to hit the night drop, but I rushed to my office, tossed everything into the safe, and grabbed my keys and purse. I hurried to my car, and as soon as I got in, I called Sheila to let her know who had shown up out of the blue.

  Chapter Five

  Samantha

  “What can I get you?” I asked Ethan, one of our regulars. He had come in about ten minutes before, but he had been on the phone and I hadn’t wanted to interrupt, so I’d waited for him to end his call.

  Looking up from his tablet, he paused and then tilted his head to the right. “Sam?” He looked surprised.

  “Yes.” I smiled.

  “You look ... you look ... you are ... Wow,” he finally managed to say as he stared at me, his eyebrows vaulting toward the ceiling.

  I knew he had not been expecting to see my new look. I had gotten the same reception from a few other regulars that day, so his reaction didn’t surprise me.

  “Thank you, Ethan.” I smiled even brighter. “Can I get you the usual?”

  “Yeah, yeah, that would be . . .” He paused and licked his lips. “The usual will be fine,” he said.

  I nodded and smiled. He continued to smile at me. I noticed he watched me walk away. I went for the scotch and hit him with a shot that was larger than the measured shot, and then I grabbed the nozzle and hit the COKE button.

  I walked over and placed the drink in front of him. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready to order?” I asked him.

  “Yes . . . in a moment. I�
�d like to know, what inspired the change? I mean, I have never been into the short styles, but it looks so classy on you, and your makeup is beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know. You know, I got a hair salon gift card for my birthday from my staff. I went yesterday, and now I have a new look.”

  “Well, it’s working. I mean, you are a beautiful woman, Sam, but now you have stepped it up to sexy. And I must give it to you. This look is working for you.”

  “You think so?” I blushed.

  “Yes. I know so.” He smiled at me, like he usually did. He had never before complimented me or even struck up a conversation with me, so I welcomed his attention.

  Interrupting our conversation, Marty, an irritating customer, yelled, “Can I get a refill, somebody, please?”

  “I’ll be right there.” I smiled, leaving my eyes on Ethan but moving toward the grouch.

  When I reached Marty, my smile had faded a bit. “What were you drinking, Marty?” I asked nicely.

  “You don’t know?” he asked smartly.

  “No, Marty. Keisha is your server today, so I have no clue.”

  “Gin and tonic. Boy, I swear, you dingy broads.”

  “Hey!” I said firmly. “Watch it, okay? Don’t make me have to throw you out of here again.”

  Backing down, he changed his tone. “All right, all right, all right, Sammie. I’ll be good.”

  A few minutes later I handed him his new drink and then eased back over to Ethan. I wanted to sit with him, but the place was too busy for me to abandon my crew.

  “I see you got him under control. I was about to say something,” Ethan said.

  “Yeah, I can handle Marty. He’s been coming here since I was seventeen, when my daddy ran this place. He’s annoying but harmless.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “So have you decided on dinner?”

  “I sorta have. I mean, I frequent this place, but like you, I want to try something different.”

  “Well, can I recommend something?”

  “Sure.”

  “The stuffed chicken breast is delicious.”

  “Really? Well, I shall see.” He smiled.

  “Will you like that with rice or potatoes?”

  “I’ll take the potatoes, and please add mushrooms to the chicken.”

  “Will do.”

  I took his menu and went over to the register to key in his order. I tried to keep my eyes on what I was doing, but I felt him staring, so I kept glancing back at him. I wanted to encourage him, but I knew I couldn’t date or even think of having a man in my condition. That was something you had to be up front about, and I was terrified to tell anyone about my secret.

  Since he was eyeing me, I decided to discourage him by moving around my restaurant to greet other patrons. No matter where I moved, I felt he was watching me. Before long, I went to see if his dinner was ready. It was, so I picked up his plate and headed over to his table.

  “Here you are, Ethan,” I said, setting the plate before him. “I hope you enjoy this. It was one of my mom’s recipes, and it’s a hit here. I hope you agree.”

  “Thanks. And can I get another?” he asked, holding up his glass.

  “Sure. Coming right up.”

  I worked on his refill while he watched my every move. Lord, why was this man making me warm? I didn’t want to be checked out by Ethan; he was the last man who I’d imagined would give me a second look. He had never been rude, had always been friendly, but he had never flirted with me, complimented me, or looked at me the way he was looking at me in that moment. I picked up my pace, gave him his drink, and decided to move from behind the bar.

  As I made my way past him, he stopped me. “Sam, do you have a second?”

  I paused and turned to him after letting out a deep breath. I tried to hold my smile in, but I couldn’t. Ethan was gorgeous. He was clean-cut, and he had a tapered beard and mustache, and cocoa-brown skin. He might not have been six feet tall, but I was pretty sure he was taller than I was. His body was not fat, but I had no idea how lean he was, because he normally had on a button-down shirt, a nice tie, and slacks every time I saw him. I had always assumed he was coming from work. His eyes were tight and a little slanted, and I did consider him to be handsome.

  “Yes. Is there something else you need?”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  “And that is?”

  “Utensils,” he said.

  We both laughed.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll get that for you now.” I rushed off and came back with silverware. “Here you are. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I forgot that.”

  “It’s all good, but if you’re really sorry, you’d sit with me.”

  “Aw, Ethan. It’s peak time, and I can’t sit. I have to make sure my customers are getting top-notch service.”

  “How long does peak time last?”

  “Normally, until ten. Everyone’s had dinner by then, and the dinner rush is over.”

  “What time do you close?”

  “Midnight or one. It depends on the traffic.”

  He looked at his watch. “Okay. Handle your business while I handle this chicken.”

  I nodded and moved on. I got busy in the kitchen and didn’t make it back to the bar area until close to ten. When I returned, Ethan had already made an exit. The rush was gone, so I went to my office to get my purse in order to freshen up. The kitchen had been busy, as it always was, and the hairnet had flattened my hair a bit, but after a few minutes of retouching, I was back to gorgeous. I took off the kitchen apron, handed it off to an employee, and made my way back to the bar, looking fresh again. By ten, the pace was more relaxed, and I took advantage of the downtime and ordered a chicken-finger basket and fries for myself. While I waited at a round table in the bar area, I sipped on a glass of my favorite Riesling and watched the fish swim around in the in-wall tank.

  A voice interrupted my quiet time. “Is this seat taken?”

  I looked up, and to my pleasant surprise, it was Ethan. “Hi. You’re back.”

  “Yeah, I went home, showered, changed, and decided I’d come back to see if you could take a load off and sit with me. Can I join you?”

  “Sure. Why not?” I smiled and sipped.

  I could now see his physique. He had some beautiful arms. They were peeking out of the short sleeves on his polo. The shirt clung to his skin, but was not supertight. It was just tight enough to show he had a nice chest and abs.

  “I see the crowd has cleared out.”

  “Yep. The night is calmer and more peaceful now. Would you like anything?”

  “A drink. That stuffed chicken was um, um good.” He smiled.

  “I told you,” I said. I waved for Stacy, one of my waitresses.

  She hurried over. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Can you get my friend Ethan a scotch and Coke on the rocks? He prefers Johnny Walker Black.”

  “That is correct.” Ethan smiled. I really wanted him to stop doing that. His smile was gorgeous, and his teeth looked even and white.

  “Would you like another also, Ms. Sam?” Stacy asked.

  “You know what, Stacy? That would be great,” I said.

  A moment later another employee, Tre, brought my chicken fingers and fries. “Here you go, Ms. Sam. Your basket with extra ranch, just like you like it.”

  “Thanks, Tre.”

  “You are welcome. Would you like anything, sir?” he asked Ethan.

  “No. No thanks.”

  “Well, Ms. Sam, if you need me, you know where to find me,” Tre said, then dashed off.

  When I moved my eyes up from my food, Ethan was staring again.

  “Okay, you have to stop doing that,” I told him. “It’s beginning to feel weird.”

  “Stop doing what?” he asked, as if he was clueless.

  “Looking at me like that.”

  Lifting his brows, he said. “Like what?”

  “Don’t play innocent, Ethan. I mean, you’ve been coming here for
two years, and although you are kind, polite, and always a gentleman, you’ve never looked at me like you have tonight.”

  “You’re right, and I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I’ve noticed you before, and I’ve always thought you were a beautiful woman, in a shell, but I never gave any thought to it, because I was in a relationship. Now, three weeks after my breakup, I come in, and it’s like you’ve broken out of your shell and turned on the sexy. I will admit I like what I see. You were always attractive, Sam, but now it looks as if you know that you are too.” The pitch of his voice fell as he leaned toward me and added, “And that turned me on.”

  I swallowed hard. Just then Stacy approached with our drinks, and I was happy for the interruption.

  “Another Riesling for you, Ms. Sam, and a scotch and soda for you, Mr. Ethan. Enjoy.”

  “Thanks,” we both said in unison.

  “You’re welcome,” she said and then made her way back to the other side of the bar.

  Time for a change of subject, I decided. I figured I’d talk about him, so I could avoid talking about me and why I was afraid to encourage his advances. “So you just recently broke up with your lady?”

  “Yes, about three and a half weeks ago. She and I were on the road to destruction, and I had to let it go.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Yes, I did, but Veronica and I were from two different sides of the track. I’m not saying I’m better than anyone, not by far, but she had some ghetto issues. I will admit I met her at the DMV. She worked there, and when I laid eyes on her, I was thinking, Man, she is bad. She was dark-skinned, her makeup was flawless, and her eyes were just mesmerizing. She helped me, and she was so pleasant that I went back in and gave her a card and asked her to call me. She did, and we went out. After maybe five dates, she started to let her ghetto nature come out, but I was already into her, so I couldn’t walk away.

  “Beyond the neck-rolling attitude, Vee was smart, and she always saw the good side of everything. When I’d have a hard day at work, she’d soothe me. She could cook her ass off and kept a spick-and-span clean place for us, but she would always show her ass in public. I mean, if the food wasn’t right, she’d go off. If the cashier didn’t say what she wanted to hear, it was war. If I didn’t cater to her the way she preferred, it was a fight, and all that fussing, fighting, and arguing got old. About three weeks ago, I ended it. She moved out, and we tried reconciling, but if I’m not doing it the Vee way, there is no way, so I decided to be done.”