Addicted

“Catch up?” I couldn’t believe she was putting on a front like we hadn’t just left out of the emergency room. “The only thing we need to catch up on is why you’re still letting that Dempsey maggot open up a can of whup-ass on you whenever he feels like it.”

She darted her eyes around, embarrassed, trying to make sure nobody heard my last statement. “Do you have to talk so loud?”

I realized I was talking pretty loud, so I toned it down a peg or two. I was still pissed, though. “Brina, I have a great idea. Let’s just order carry-out and head back to your place so we can discuss this openly and honestly without any interruptions.”

“We can discuss it here,” she interjected. “I don’t want to go back to my place right now. I’m sick of being cooped up in there every day after work. Why do you think I’m always so gung-ho about hanging out with you and the kids? My life is mad boring.”

I was on the brink of insisting that we leave regardless of all that. I just didn’t deem it appropriate for us to be there in light of earlier events. Before I could air my objection, they called our name and led us to a table by a window overlooking the Saturday traffic on Peachtree. Once we sat down and ordered a couple of margaritas, I decided to get all up in her business.

“Brina, why are you so bored? Doesn’t Dempsey ever take you out anyplace?”

She looked astonished, as if the mere thought of a man taking a sistah out on an actual date is unheard of in Atlanta. “Take me out with what, Zoe? You know Dempsey has trouble holding down a job, and what little money he does make goes to child support.”

“Yeah, child support or liquor,” I replied sarcastically. “Am I missing something here? Let me see if I have all of this straight. He’s a lazy alcoholic sperm bank who comes over to your place just so he can fuck you, beat the shit out of you, and then leave?”

“You just don’t understand where I’m coming from,” she stated brazenly. “Dempsey has a softer side to him that only I see.”

I chuckled, more out of anger than anything. I couldn’t believe my ears. “Brina, you deserve so much better than this, but you can’t see it for some reason. You and I go way back.” I reached over the table and gently took her by the hand. “We’re like family. You’re the closest thing to the sister I’ve never had, and I refuse to sit back and watch you do this to yourself one more minute.”

“Do what to myself? Allow a man to love me?” Her bottom lip started trembling, and so did her hand. She tried to pull it back, but I tightened my grip. “Zoe, I’m not beautiful and successful like you. The world is at your feet. You have a bad-ass home, great kids, a mother who actually remembers you exist, and a fine husband who adores you.”

I wanted to scream out that I was just as tormented as she was, but her problems were more urgent. In fact, they were bordering on life-threatening so I refrained from discussing my sexual obsession and the effect it was having on my life. I desperately needed to talk to someone. It looked like Dr. Marcella Spencer was my only choice, though; Brina was certainly in no condition to help me sort through my emotions.

“I’m barely making enough to get by,” Brina continued. “My mother’s always asking me for money. When I’m with Dempsey, it’s the only time I truly feel safe.” No—she didn’t say safe? “It’s not like I have men knocking down my door these days. I used to, though. You remember that, don’t you, Sis? You remember when I was beautiful like you?”

That did it! I squeezed her hand so hard that I practically drew blood. “You listen to me! You’re still beautiful! You always have been and always will be!” I calmed down a little and loosened my grip. I was so upset, I had to fight back the tears. Brina was always the confident one. People used to call her conceited in high school, but I would defend her and explain that she wasn’t conceited—she was just convinced she had it going on. “That Dempsey bastard has destroyed your self-esteem, and I’m not having it. I’ll do anything to help you, Brina. Anything! Jason and I both would do anything for you. Don’t you know that?”

She looked me over with the tear-drenched eyes of a child. “I know you will.”

“But I can’t help you unless you tell me what you need.” The waitress came back to the table and asked if we were ready to order our meals. I asked her to give us a few more moments. We had yet to even open up the menus. Once she walked out of earshot, I continued, “This is the first I’ve heard about any financial problems, Brina. Why didn’t you ask me for some money?”

“I could never do that!”

“Why not? That’s what friends are for, dammit!”

“I don’t want you and Jason giving me handouts. I know how hard it was for the two of you to get where you are. I watched your dreams come true right before my eyes, and I could never take away from that.”

I mulled it over for a moment in silence. I never realized Brina could be so damn stubborn. “Okay, fine. I won’t give you anything. I’ll make you earn it.” Brina looked at me, full of confusion. “Come work for me. It’s the perfect solution, and we can spend a whole lot of time together.”

She started chewing on her bottom lip, lost in thought. “I don’t know about this, Zoe. I don’t want to mess up a good thing. I’ve been at my company for a while now.”

“And they haven’t promoted you, given you a raise, or done a damn thing for you except give you a bunch of aggravation.” I smiled at her, hoping to encourage her to accept. “Besides, I pay well, and you won’t have to fight with me to take vacation time or to leave early or anything.”

She laughed. “That’s true. My boss, Mrs. Green, can be a mean old heifer when I ask to leave even an hour early.”

“So accept my offer then, dammit.”

“But all I have are secretarial skills, and those aren’t all that great. Do you even have an opening at your company in the first place?”

“No, but I’ll make one up. I’m the owner. I can do whatever the hell I want.” She still hesitated. “I don’t have a personal assistant. I never have had, but now that I think about it, I could surely use one. You could go visit artists with me and hang out at galleries and art shows. Do power lunches. You would love it.”

The waitress came back again, about to cop an attitude since we were taking up table space and not eating. I could understand it. Business is business and tips are tips. The Cheesecake Factory was packed since it was a Saturday afternoon. We finally put the waitress out of her misery, glanced over the menu, and ordered a couple of grilled chicken salads with blue cheese dressing, some cheese toast, and a basket of chicken tenders.

“Well?” I asked, giving Brina my undivided attention while we waited for the food. “What’s your answer?”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

Now it was my time