“I thought you were helping with the ribbon hanging,” Starlet said, barging in and disturbing what little peace I’d managed to eek out.

“Haven’t I done enough? I helped with the table setup. I helped get the trellis up. I even made sure the cake got here. Hell, I’m tired,” I groaned, placing a throw pillow over my head. “Besides, I’m expecting somebody, so I need to be where I can hear the doorbell.”

“Well, you’re not going to hear it in here napping, when there’s work to be done,” Starlet snapped. “Rain, you bedda do something ‘bout your girl.” Her shoes tapped out a rhythm across the hardwood floor as she departed the scene.

I slid the pillow off my face and peered at Rain. He smiled back at me, raising a sauced rib in salute. That’s when I noticed the hand that had been behind his back was holding a plate of food.

“How the hell did you get food,” I exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to pry something out of Starlet for the last four hours. That wench is going to starve all of us to death.”

Rain laughed, slowly waving the rib just above my nose. “I’m willing to share my bounty . . . if you promise to share yours.”

“That shit ain’t fair.” I swiped at the meat, missing it by inches. “Boy, don’t make me get up from here.”

“Hey, you want it, you’re gonna have to come get it. But you better be willing to pay your dues on it.”

I tossed the pillow down and lurched out the chair. Rain took a step back, laughing so hard, I thought he was going to drop the plate. “I thought you were tired,” he said.

“I’m more hungry than I am tired,” I huffed, snatching a drumstick off the plate. “Starlet has truly lost her mind, if she thinks that everybody’s going to work their asses off and not eat until she blesses the damn food. That’s that psycho shit, and I told Alex so.”

“You did not.”

“I did, too. Those therapy sessions aren’t helping her,” I said between engulfing the chicken. “Have you seen how exhausted Alex looks trying to keep things together? Ask me, she’s only gotten worse.”

“Alex does look a little tired, but still—I think you’re just pissed because she’s making you earn your keep,” he said, jokingly.

“Maybe so, but the fact remains that if I was a kid they’d get her ass for child abuse.”

Rain cracked up and began to chow down on the rib. “So, have you told anybody about our surprise guest?”

“If I told them then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

“You know what I mean. Did you tell Starlet?”

“With the state-of-mind that girl’s in that would have been like telling everybody. Have you not been paying attention to anything I’ve said in the last couple of minutes? She’s psycho. She needs help.”

“I heard you, but I don’t think her state-of-mind has anything to do with her coordinating the celebration. I mean, this is what she does for a living.”

“Exactly. She does it for a living—with paid staff—so it shouldn’t be all this running around making folks into indentured servants.”

“Ahh . . . I see what this is about. You’re just upset, because you had to break a nail or two.” Rain chuckled and started working on the mac and cheese.

“Are you trying to say I don’t know anything about hard work?”

“Nah, we know you can get down and dirty. It’s more about your lack of feminine skills.”

“Oh, to hell with you. I got feminine skills.”

“Yeah, maybe in the bedroom,” he said, grinning.

“We’ll see about that.” I took the plate from him. “Now, stop hogging the mac and cheese.”

The front door closed, followed by heavy walking. I pulled myself away from the meal to see who it was.

As usual, the one person with a knack for ruining a good moment appeared. “You would wait until the majority of the work is done to show up,” I said.

“Nice to see you, too,” Mason said, sneering in Rain’s direction. “Just like you, Yanni, to bring bad weather to a barbecue.”

“What?  At least I'm not a loser walking the streets,” Rain replied.

Even I had to pause and chuckle at that lame comeback, as Mason just shook his head.  “You are true to your profession’s stereotypes, doc,” Mason snorted. “No sense of humor whatsoever.”

“Mase, don’t go startin’ nothing. This is Red’s day, and I’ll help them kick you out before I let you ruin it,” I said.

“Why it gotta be me that’s ruining shit? We wouldn’t be having this conversation, if Morning Dew had kept his ass home.”

“Look, man, you need to cut down on the bullshit. Every time we meet up, you got something to say. Don’t you think it’s time to let bygones, be bygones?”

“What the fuck ever. I just came in here to take a leak anyway,” Mason said, making a beeline for the guest bath.

“What were you saying about psychos?” Rain asked, once the door slammed shut.

“That boy’s probably a high priest in the order of psychos,” I said, cracking up.

I was about to dip into the peach cobbler, when my phone rang. Recognizing Terry’s number, I glanced up at Rain, suddenly not so hungry. “Looks like the party is about to begin.”

And my wife had been of little assistance. Especially when she realized my future ability to keep her in the way to which she had become accustomed might be compromised. So much for companionship mattering more than anything else in older age.

I sighed and studied the number in my address book for about the tenth time. Making this call could really end up changing my life. This man was a different breed. A type you didn’t mince words with. Or play games with.

I knew from the moment I met him that Vincent was out of his league. Unfortunately, Vincent didn’t realize that until it was too late.

I picked up my half-empty glass of bourbon and took a swig. It might lend a false sense of confidence but, right now, that’s all I had to go on as I dialed the number.

“Be quick,” said the rough voice on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me—Earl Taylor,” I said, unsure of where to begin.

“What's up, Earl Taylor?” Sheldon asked in a somewhat mocking tone. “Everything still where it should be?”

“Oh, yes—yes, indeed,” I said, cringing at the thought of what he was referring to. I continued, “I need your assistance. Kind of a little bind I’ve gotten myself into.”

“In my business, things are just handled.  I don’t do little binds. You might want to call up Vincent for that. Oh, wait, I forgot, he’s a little indisposed right now,” Sheldon said, with a guttural laugh. 

I laughed along, feeling that was what he expected. What was it I was once told? Always go along with a crazy man? Yeah, that was it. And this cat fit the bill.

“So, what’s the problem?” Sheldon asked, adding, “and be quick about it, I got to take the Missus shopping for a summer dress. You know how that is.”

“You don’t have to explain a thing. Ask me, that’s the only reason I’ve managed to keep mine around.”

“Can’t live with ‘em,” Sheldon began.

“Damn sure would like to live without ‘em,” I said, completing his sentence.

He laughed, this time a real laugh. I laughed too, feeling just a tad bit more at ease.

“Now, back to the current situation,” Sheldon said, his tone all business.

“Yeah, about that,” I replied, and then launched into my reason for calling.

“So, it’s like that, hunh?” Sheldon said, with no inkling in his voice that he found any of it surprising when I was done.

“Unfortunate for me, it is. This is the first time in my entire career, I’ve not known what my next steps should be,” I said, taking another sip of my drink and frowning at the watered-down taste. I immediately poured it into the hotel sink and fixed another, this time with no ice.

“Well, I can’t help in that area myself. But I can tell you this . . . there’s a family barbecue about to take place. Now, I got my own plans for that little shindig, but there’s nothing stopping you from showing up.  Making it an unforgettable event.”  There went that laugh again.

I grabbed the hotel stationery and a pen. “What’s the address?” were my next words.

Nobody was more surprised than me, when he finally began to open up on the ride over to our second session. “Is there anything we’re missing,” he asked, a couple of miles from the doctor’s office.

“Hunh?” I asked, rightly confused.

“For the barbeque. Do we have everything we need?”

“Oh, yeah. We just have to pick up the meat from the butcher’s.”

“The butcher?” He glanced at me, and then back at the road. “Why can’t we just pick up meat out of the store?”

“Because this is a special occasion that calls for a special menu. You act like Red gets married every month.”

Like the sun breaking through the clouds after a heavy rain, Alex smiled. “Yeah, that is something else. I can’t ever remember seeing Red as happy as he’s been. I think he’s found the one.”

“Well, I’d say it’s a two-way street.” I tapped a hand against my leg and groaned. “Darn, I did forget something else. I was supposed to call Marty back about the centerpiece. She couldn’t get the yellow roses and wanted to substitute them for cream-colored ones.”

Alex sighed as he turned into the parking lot.

“What?” I asked, climbing out of the truck.

“Never mind. It’d take too long to explain.” He took me by the hand and led me into the building.

We signed in and before we could take a seat, Dr. Maxwell waltzed in and led us to his office. “So, how have things been the past couple of days?” he asked, motioning for us to have a seat.

“Interesting,” I said.

“Oh, really? Mind if I ask how?”

I sucked my teeth, knowing, without a doubt, I was about to put Alex back in silent mode. I exhaled and explained, “Well, I’ve been trying to take baby steps as you suggested, but I have to be honest, it’s been hard. I just can’t understand for the life of me why I can’t stand to be in the same room with AJ.”

“Starlet, there is one thing I want you to understand,” Dr. Maxwell began, “a change is not going to happen overnight. That was the only reason I suggested the baby-steps approach. The fact that you’re trying is success, in itself.”

“But it’s not happening fast enough,” I insisted. “I want to prove to Alex I can handle this on my own—without him constantly looking over my shoulder. If the baby cries, I see him peeking through doors. It’s getting ridiculous. Somebody on Riker’s Island has more freedom than I do.”

“It’s unfortunate you feel that way.” He directed his next line of questioning at Alex. “What is it that you’re afraid of?

I peered at Alex’s reflection in the large-paned window. He shifted on the couch, his gaze seeming to rest just beyond Dr. Maxwell. “It’s not that I’m afraid of anything,” he said, clearing his throat, “but I want to make sure that Starlet’s secure in her role.”

“Damn, Alex, you sound like I’m in some kind of play. This is our son we’re talking about.”

“I think she might have a point,” Dr. Maxwell conceded.

“Look, baby, I know you’re trying to help,” I said, rising and walking over to the window. “But it’s almost like an overwhelming immersion course—I just have to plunge in and make this better.”

“Are you sure plunging in is the best thing for you?” Dr. Maxwell asked. “By taking a baby-steps approach, we work you into the situation gradually, allowing you time to digest what’s happening.”

“I don’t do anything gradually, Dr. Maxwell.”

Alex seemed to marinate on my words for a moment, and then added, “Welp, it looks like this will be a first for you then.”

I didn’t even bother to speak. Just stood there looking at the birds flutter through the courtyard.

“Starlet, I know you want to get back to being the best mother you can be as quickly as possible,” Dr. Maxwell said. “I also know that I can’t dictate to you how you should approach renewing the bond with your child, but if I can suggest that we try my approach for at least the next few weeks . . . and see where we get with it.”

“Why do I have to wait? Waiting just overwhelms me. Makes me feel like I should be doing something more,” I huffed and began pacing the floor. 

“I agree that it probably does. But this way, you’re less likely to return to your current state. Consider it a weaning process.”

“Weaning from what?”

“From your current state of unhappiness, of course.”

“OK, I do it your way. But then I feel, in a lot of ways, that I’m abandoning my child. He didn’t ask to be here and now that he is here, I’m not doing my part. You know, not creating a bond like I should.”

“Sounds like you’re afraid he’s going to feel emotionally abandoned. Have you ever felt that way?”

“Yes. In some ways.”

“Care to explain?” he asked, giving me his full attention.

I stopped pacing and looked from Alex to him. “I don’t talk about it much. Actually only Yanni—my childhood friend—really knows. My mom’s a nurse. A damn good one. But she always put her job first. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and our closeness has developed as we’ve gotten older but, as a teen, things were tense.”

I returned to the couch, sat down and continued. “You see, my mom was never there. Work always came first. Church meetings always came first. Choir rehearsal always came first. I mean, I knew she loved me, but I also knew that other things came first.”

“Have you ever discussed your feelings with your mother?” Dr. Maxwell asked, writing on his pad.

“For what reason? My mother was the baby in a family of five boys. Because of that she pretty much got her own way. She’s still that way. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, so I just accept things as is and move on.”

“Hmm . . . that’s an interesting way of putting it,” he said, placing the pad on the stand next to him and sitting up straight. “So, you just accept the behavior?”

“What else can you do? Challenge your mother?”

“Well, you could make her aware of how you feel . . . and how you’ve felt for years. Let me ask you another question: have you ever felt emotionally abandoned as an adult?”

I stared long and hard at Dr. Maxwell. That was one question I did not want to answer in Alex’s presence.

“Starlet, are you OK?” Dr. Maxwell asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just caught off guard by your question, I guess.”

“Oh, I see.” He looked like he was about to say something else then turned toward Alex. “Alex, you look like you have something to say?”

“No, I don’t. This is about Starlet.”

“As we covered in our first session, if Starlet is to embrace her new role, we have to have openness. These sessions are not just a chance for Starlet to say what’s on her mind, but you, too.”

Alex gave me a questioning look. I returned his look with a nod to proceed. “Well, OK. I was just thinking about how Starlet might have taken Eric’s death as abandonment.”

My lips trembled, as he said exactly what I’d been thinking. I didn’t know what to say.

“Star, I know you loved Eric,” Alex said, looking me in the eye. “I also know that you love me and our son, but fact is fact. You loved him, and he was taken away.”

“Who is Eric, Starlet?”

“Someone I met before Alex,” I mumbled. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. So, I take it you and Eric were pretty close?”

“We were, but then we weren’t—and then he was killed.” I pressed my fingers against my eyes to keep from crying. “He died right before I found out I was pregnant.”

“Are you saying the baby is Eric’s?”

“Oh, no, no,” I stated, shaking my head. “He’s definitely Alex’s son, but we didn’t find out until after he was born.”

The silence in the room felt like it was going to swallow me up.

Dr. Maxwell finally cut the air, sending my heart into erratic mode in the process, “Do you sometimes wish the baby were Eric’s?”

She laughed. "A lecture? I should be coming out here with a belt, the way you were acting in there."

I turned and looked at her. "You know, I'd probably take the beating if it meant you'd talk to me."

She walked past me to the other side of the patio, plopping down on the edge of the lounge chair. "Jackson, what's wrong with you?"

"Are you really asking me this?" I shot back. "You know what's wrong."

"Do I?" She pointed back inside. "Is it Sheldon? Is that what has you acting like a three year old? Because I have to tell you, when you were actually three, you idolized him."

"When I was three, I didn't know any better." I picked up a fallen acorn from the wooden panels and tossed it. "As a matter of fact, I still don't."

"What does that mean, Jackson?"

"Why is he around?" I raised my voice and looked down at her. "Especially after what went down between him and Dad."

She looked up to me and shook her head. "You don't know the whole story, Jackson."

"I know that Dad banned him from the house. I know that he said he tried to bring the family down. I know he said he tried to cheat him out of money he didn't deserve. I know that Dad hated him. And I hated him after that."

"There's a lot your father didn't tell you," she countered. "Like his part in the whole thing. How he tried to set Sheldon up to take the fall for his shady dealings. How, if it wasn't for Sheldon handling things, your father probably would've been in jail for the rest of his life. And then he just tossed him aside when it was convenient."

"Stop." I paced back and forth on the patio, doing everything short of covering my ears.

"No, you need to hear this," she said, standing and stopping my pacing. "Sheldon was there for us when your father was too busy politicking. He did right by us. And your father. Until your father didn't want to deal with him anymore. The sad thing is—"

"What's the sad thing, mom?" I said sarcastically, cutting her off.

She looked me in the eyes. "The sad thing is that I believed your father. After everything Sheldon had done for us, I blindly believed that he would do wrong by us. When it wasn't true. And it wasn't until years later that I found out the truth." She placed her hand on my shoulder. "He's a good man, Jack."

"Whatever," I snapped, jerking my shoulder away. That's all I could say. I was defeated. I mean, how could I argue with her? How did I know my father didn't lie about that like he'd lied about so many other things throughout my life? It still didn't answer everything, though. 

I let out a huge sigh before turning and facing her. "What about you, mom? Are you lying about something now?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I pressed. "What are you not telling me?"

"Don't go there, Jackson."

"Go where?" I countered.

"There." She placed her finger in my chest and looked up at me. "I called you. I wanted to tell you everything. I kept calling you. You never answered the phone. You never called me back."

I backed away. "But—"

"But, nothing. So I came here, still trying to reach out to you. Trying to tell you everything. Everything."

"Well, here we are," I said, trying to brush the past few months aside as if it didn't matter. "Right here. You and me. And now you're not telling me anything."

"I wanted to. Until I got here and saw everything that was going on. And knew you weren't ready to know."

"What does that mean? What did I have going on?"

"Jackson, there was a dying woman in the same car as me my first night here. Someone you're very close to was almost arrested for her murder and went into a state of depression because of the guilt he felt for what he'd done. You had a lot on your plate."

My mind flashed back to that night, when all hell broke loose. My mother showing up, Red being missing, and then finally hearing from him with news that Sabrina was shot—by him? Talk about overwhelming. Shit. 

"Well, everything's better now," I said, trying to make a case for her telling me what I wanted to know. What I needed to know. "Please, tell me what's going on with you, mom. I'm ready now."

She sat back down on the lounge chair and nervously played with her hands. "Well, for the past few months I've—"

"Am I interrupting?" Sheldon said, sticking his head out onto the patio with all the timing of a dead watch.

"You damn sure are!" I snapped.

"Sorry about that," he said, smiling. "But Yanni wanted me to let you know that breakfast is ready."

"Yeah, well, thanks," I said, hoping he'd get the hint and step. "We'll be there in a minute."

"Nonsense," my mother said, standing and walking toward him. "We can't let the food get cold, can we?" She was like a little schoolgirl around this cat. She excitedly took Sheldon's hand as he led her inside. What the fuck?

"Mom, we were talking!" I stood on the patio, arms outstretched.

"We'll talk later, Jackson. Come on inside." Sheldon looked back with a grin that resembled the cat that swallowed the canary. Asshole.

I shook my head and went inside, knowing that the day wasn't going to end without me knowing everything. And what this jackass had to do with it. 

Before leaving, he’d kissed me goodbye and made me promise we’d do it again soon. I laughed at the remembrance of his words when I asked him what he meant by soon.

“Like tonight . . . and tomorrow night, and the day after that one—hell, let’s just keep going,” he’d said, followed by another tantalizing kiss.

After shutting off the engine, I closed my eyes, lightly touching my fingers to my lips. I swore I could still feel the heat of Rain’s parting kiss. A tap on my driver’s side window startled me.

Mason.

Knowing him, he had an attitude become I didn’t come home last night. I rolled my eyes at him, grabbed my purse and pushed open the door. He jumped back just in time to avoid me slamming it into his leg.

“What the hell’s your problem,” he exclaimed as I stepped into the soft morning breeze.

“You were in the way. Why are you out here anyway? It looks like you just got home.”

“I could be asking you the same thing.”

“Well, don’t—because you don’t want to hear my answer.”

He glared at me, about to say something, when a car pulled up. I watched as a man got out, walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. He extended his hand, helping Mason’s mother out of the car.

I glanced at Mason, whose face said everything his mouth didn’t. There was no need to ask who the man might be. As he stood there fuming, I had to fight to suppress my laughter.

“Grow up,” I whispered to Mason, before walking over to make his uncle’s acquaintance.

“I see everyone decided to make it an early morning,” Karla said, smiling in my direction.

“I guess you could say that,” I replied, eyeing the man standing next to her and wondering if this might, indeed, be the guy Alex told me about.

“I’d like you to meet Sheldon,” Karla said, leaving no doubt. “Sheldon, Yanni. She’s rooming with Mason until her house is repaired.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, accepting his extended hand. “It's wonderful to finally meet you. Alex told me all about what you did in saving his son and Jean. I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”

“Thank him by letting him leave,” Mason grumbled, stepping up next to me.

“Stop being rude,” I snapped. “I know it’s early, and I’m not sure what we have in the way of breakfast, but why don’t you come in for a minute?”

Sheldon gazed at Mason. “Huh . . . I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I know it’s not a good idea,” Mason growled.

“Jackson, listen to Yanni. Stop being rude,” his mother said. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to let me live my own life.”

“Well, does it have to be with him?” he said, stabbing his index finger in Sheldon’s direction.

Sheldon chuckled. “You remind me so much of you as a little boy.”

“Shel, don’t ya’ll get started,” Karla said. “Now, Yanni invited you inside—I think you should take her up on it. Seems you two have a lot to discuss.”

“Yes, you must,” I insisted.

“Hey, this is my da—I mean, my house. Shouldn’t I have any say so in this?”

Karla and I looked at each other, smiled and started walking up the drive, leaving Mason to kick rocks.

“Shel, don’t forget the bag on the backseat,” Karla called back, as we entered the house.

A few minutes later, Karla and I moved around the kitchen. While she scrambled eggs and fried turkey bacon, I placed the biscuits in the oven.

“So, Sheldon,” I said, turning around at one point, “you will have to tell me what happened from beginning to end. And I hope Karla has invited you to Red’s engagement party.”

“You got it . . . and, yeah, she sure did,” he said, his eyes never leaving Mason.

I glanced at Mason, who gave Sheldon an “if looks could kill” glare. Suddenly it struck me that Mason didn’t simply have a grudge against this man, he right out hated him. Like a little boy does when he doesn’t want his mommy to get a new man.

The minute he realized I was checking him out, he turned his head, pretending to busy himself with something on the counter. I laughed out loud.

“Why don’t you share the joke, Yanni?” Mason snarled.

“What?” I asked, giving everyone else an innocent look.

“First, you invite this asshole into my house, and then you have the audacity to stand there and laugh at me?”

I shook my head in pity. “You really need to get it together. You act as if Sheldon’s taking away your prized cat-eye marble.”

We all cracked up, with the exception of Mason, who stood abruptly, knocking over a vase on the counter.

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck Sheldon. Fuck this whole thing. I’m out.” He then stomped out of the kitchen. A moment later he opened the patio door so hard, the house rattled.

Karla wiped her hands on her apron, a worried look on her face. “Yanni, if you’ll watch this, I’ll be right back.”

I nodded, as she scampered out of the kitchen.

“Has he always been so possessive?” I asked Sheldon.

“You have no idea,” he said, smiling.

“You get extra props just for putting up with him. I don’t know how you did it—or anybody for that matter.”

“Come on,” Sheldon said, “I thought you and him were an item or something.”

“Ha! Me and Mason? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Well, Karla seems to think so.”

“Oh my God—don’t tell me. Did she tell you what happened?” I cringed, suddenly finding it hard to look at Sheldon.

“Hey, we’re all grown in here. It’s no big deal. Honestly, I kind of wish it were something like that. Then he might give me a break.”

“Yeah, but at whose expense,” I said, bursting into laughter.

Sheldon grinned and began to pick up the remnants of the broken vase. He dropped the pieces into the trash, grabbed a wad of paper towels and wiped the counter and floor.

“Trying to maintain a relationship with Karla has been tenuous to say the least," he said, taking a seat. "When it comes to Karla, I don’t think anybody’s good enough where Jackson’s concerned—especially me.”

“My advice is that you keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. She seems plenty happy to me. And, in the end, that’s what really matters.”

“You’re right. That brings me to something else that I didn't get to touch bases with Alex on."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I had help getting the baby and hiding Jean out."

"Yeah, Alex told me about that."

"I'm pretty sure he did, but he probably didn't know who she was."

About to slide the eggs out of the pan, I stopped in mid-air. "Does it matter?"

"Good question," Sheldon said. "At any other time, it might not have mattered, but considering the circumstances, I just wanted to make sure she wasn't playing for the other team."

"I don't get you."

Ordinarily, those words would have made the hairs stand up on my neck, but this time something about it didn’t sound like such a bad thing. I raked the eggs onto a serving plate, before speaking. “You mean Terry?”

“Yeah, so I take it you already know about her?”

I nodded.

“In that case, I feel kind of bad,” he continued, “because when things went down, she kind of got the bad end.”

“Meaning?”

Sheldon filled me in on how Terry had pointed a gun at Mason, thinking she could scare him into helping her make contact with me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at Mason’s reaction. He was too darned predictable. And poor Terry, despite her meaning nothing by it, had no clue how long he could hold a grudge.

“And by the time we wrapped up things on our end, Mason didn’t want anything to do with her,” Sheldon said, confirming my thoughts.

“I bet he didn’t.”

Sheldon laughed, nodding in agreement. “I think it’d be great if the two of you could get together. From what I’ve seen, she could use a strong female presence.”

I simply nodded, because I’d been thinking the same thing.

"What do you mean, am I sure?" she asked, looking over at me from the passenger's seat of my car. "Of course I'm sure. Who else would I bring?" She smiled. "Besides, since you've decided to stick around, I think it's time people get to know you, especially Jackson."

We were on our way back to her son's place. Normally, I wouldn't smoke around Karla in her condition but, dammit, last night was particularly bad. She'd sat up with a bad case of heartburn after devouring two huge burritos. I know both of us couldn't wait until that phase passed. It was only a matter of time, I hoped. Dragging on the cigarette was the only thing that would calm my nerves.

"I don't know, Karla," I questioned, shaking my head. "That's a huge change of attitude from a few weeks ago. You didn't want me anywhere near your son."

"Correction, Sheldon," she scolded, pointing her index finger at me. "I didn't want you telling Jackson my business. But now that things are progressing, I realize we have no choice."

I couldn't help but laugh, realizing that I'd finally worn her down. It took years for her to even speak to me after things went sour between me and Andrew. I was a testament to persistence paying off. I never left Karla's life, whether it was flowers on her birthday, calls on her and Andrew's anniversary, groceries showing up when her politician husband was away on the road . . . all under the guise of "friendship." She wasn't feeling the attention for a while, but she finally let me back in. Of course. 

I'd always gotten what I wanted in life. She was no exception. 

"There's always a choice, Karla," I said. "And we've both made some interesting ones over the years, that's for sure." I looked over at her as we sat at a red light. Her color was good, far from the shade of pale she was the night before. I flicked the cigarette out the window as the light changed.

"True, and we have to live with them," she agreed.

"Don't remind me," I said, shaking my head. "I'm still mad at myself for getting involved with that idiot Vincent. Shit could've gone really wrong if I hadn't handled things. There's no way in hell I'd be your guest at this barbecue if things had played out his way." 

"Well, you did handle things and nothing happened to that baby. I'm just glad you convinced that boy to leave town without doing any more damage." She looked over at me again and smiled, reaching for my hand. I grabbed hers and gave a half smile in return.

"I made it so he had no choice but to leave," I muttered. "Dumb ass."

"Well, Jackson and his friends are definitely grateful for your help," she beamed, oblivious to what I said. "And I'm sure they'll say so when they see you today."

I laughed out loud at that statement. "Now, you and I both know your son too well to even think he has a grateful bone in his body. So just stop."

"Hey, hey. Cut that out. My son will surprise you," she said firmly before turning to look out the window. "Lord knows he's surprised me since I've been here."

"You're talking about the night you caught him butt naked in the living room, aren't you?" I asked, smirking.

"I don't even want to remember that," she snapped, waving her hands wildly, as if that would erase the memory of her son and his "housemate" bumping uglies by the couch.

"Well," I said as we pulled up to Jackson's house just in time to see both him and Yanni exiting their vehicles. "I hate to tell you this, Karla, but, umm, looks like you may have no other choice." 

One man—a stranger—has had his hands in everything:

Starlet's baby.

Mason's mother.

Yanni's daughter.

With two weeks left, you don't want to miss what happens next.

Yanni's Block.  Season Six Finale Week begins Monday, May 19th.

THE BLOCK IS HOT! 

Thankfully, I still had Red and Jean stopping in at least once a day for an hour or two. It didn’t take much to figure out that Alex had something to do with their shortened visits, especially since Red usually walked out the door moaning and groaning about how he wished he could stay for dinner.

As I braced myself on the edge of the sofa, I thought of a million-and-one excuses I could offer as to why I didn’t need a doctor to feel better. But what was the use? If I wanted Alex to give me a break, I’d at least have to show some effort on my part.

“You ready?” Alex asked, as he came bounding down the stairs and swooped up Alexander in his carrier.

“I guess,” I managed to eek out, not bothering to get up. Today was my first session with Dr. Maxwell and, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I couldn’t go through with it.

“Well, you better get a move on,” Alex said, as if he hadn’t heard my reluctance. “We’ve still got to drop AJ off at your mother’s.”

Panic gripped me. “You didn’t tell her where we were going, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I actually told her I needed to sweep you off your feet for a few hours, and she said it would be her pleasure.”

“Oh, OK.” I took a deep breath and tried to regain my composure. While I was relieved about not having my mother to hover over my shoulder and remind me of my inadequacies, I was petrified of what the therapist might say.

“Can you get the diaper bag?” Alex asked, before turning to the baby. I watched in disinterested fashion as he tickled Alexander’s chin. Alexander gurgled out his excitement. “I hope you put enough milk in the bag, because I got a feeling he’s about ready to put another bottle down.”

I fixed my gaze on the far wall, not wanting him to see me rolling my eyes, and said, “I pumped earlier this morning and before feeding him, so I think there should be enough.” I nodded at the tiny form inside the carrier. “I’m still trying to figure out where it all goes.”

Alex laughed in agreement. “He does have a healthy appetite. Just like his daddy,” he said, starting for the door.

I remained seated, rapidly tossing around reasons in my head for why we didn’t have to go. My eyes began to water as I imagined everything that could go wrong.

“Umm, Star, you can’t leave the house from that position.”

I looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “Alex, I’m scared,” I said, with quivering lips.

“Baby, there’s nothing to be scared of. I told you, I’ll be with you every step of the way. But we can’t do this without your cooperation.” He smiled at me from across the room. “Besides, as stubborn as you are, we’ll have this worked out in no time. So you down?”

I nodded, stood and picked up the baby’s bag and my purse. Then I followed Alex to the truck. An hour after dropping off the baby and dealing with my mother, we were seated in Dr. Maxwell’s office.

“Starlet and Alex, it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Dr. Maxwell said, shaking both our hands and taking a seat across from us. “To help ease the tension, why don’t I start by telling you a little about myself and my methods of practice? When I’m done, maybe you’ll be willing to share a little about yourselves and what brought you here.”

I nodded, but neither Alex nor I said anything after Dr. Maxwell had finished making his introductions. Finally, in a tone filled with warmth, the doctor spoke: “Remember, there’s no push to talk. When you’re ready, we’ll proceed. Should you feel like you don’t wish to speak the entire session that’s also fine.”

“But isn’t that what therapy’s about?” I asked. “On TV, the therapist always gets the patient to do all the talking.”

Dr. Maxwell chuckled. “If only it were that easy.”

Alex and I laughed. His words had helped to put me somewhat at ease.

“Well, since we are paying for this, I guess I’d better say something,” I said.

Dr. Maxwell simply nodded and flipped open a notepad.

I looked to Alex for a stroke of confidence. He gathered my hand in his and smiled. I then turned to the doctor and began my confession: “Dr. Maxwell, I love my baby . . . but I don’t want to be around him.”

“I see,” Dr. Maxwell said, not seeming to notice I’d gone straight for the jugular. "Well, that’s not too uncommon for new mothers.”

“I didn’t think so either.”

“But?”

“What do you mean ‘but?’”

“Well, you sounded like you wanted to say something else.”

“I guess I did.” I breathed deeply, this time avoiding Alex’s gaze. “Things are really worse than they seem.”

“What do you mean by worse?” Dr. Maxwell asked.

“I mean, I get sick at the thought of doing anything for him. It’s like he’s not even my child, but some stranger living in our house. That’s how detached I feel from him.” I swallowed hard, feeling as if I’d said too much too soon.

“Why do you think you might be feeling this way?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I want to get better—for Alex and for the baby.”

“What about for yourself?” Dr. Maxwell asked, his pen poised over the pad.

“Yes, I want to do it for me, too. I’m not used to feeling this way. It’s like I’m evil.”

Alex’s grip tightened on my hand.

“Have you done anything that might jeopardize the baby?” the doctor asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I keep friends over to make sure I don’t. If Alex hadn’t caught on to it, they’d still be helping me.”

I knew my tone sounded accusatory, but Alex needed to understand that I could have worked things out in time. Dr. Maxwell seemed okay, but I didn’t see how a stranger was going to help us in this situation.

Instead of blazing into me like I thought he might do, Dr. Maxwell directed his attention to Alex. “And how does this make you feel, knowing that Starlet was hiding her feelings from you?”

Alex squirmed next to me. “I thought this was about Starlet.”

Dr. Maxwell smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he twirled the pen between his fingers. “Oh, it is. You see, how you feel and what you express figures into how quickly Starlet is able to return to what she considers normal functioning.”

Alex sighed, his eyes penetrating mine. “I don’t want to say anything that might hurt her.”

“Perhaps, by not saying anything you might hurt her. You think?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t get it,” Alex said. “If I say something that hurts her, she might shut down—then we’re back at square one.”

“Well, Starlet’s right here, why don’t we let her be the judge of that.” The doctor gave me a pointed look.

“Go ahead,” I said, coaxing Alex. “After what I just said, you definitely can’t do any worse.”

Alex faced me fully before speaking: “Hearing you talk about AJ the way you did made me angry. But more than feeling anger, I think I’m mad at myself because I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.”

At this one moment, I felt horrible for Alex. After all he had been through, he didn’t deserve this. I should have never opened my mouth. I looked to the doctor, but he was jotting something onto his pad.

Finally, he looked up. “So, tell me, how do you think we can help you to feel better about the baby?”

I shrugged, stood and began to pace the office. “Well, we can’t send the baby back,” I said, hoping to break the ice. From the look on Alex’s face, he didn’t find it too funny. “I just want to get back to feeling like I matter to somebody. I want my old life back.”

“Tell me, what parts of your old life do you miss the most?” Dr. Maxwell asked.

I smiled as I thought about the carefree days Alex and I had spent together in anticipation of the baby. “Well, I’d like to have some uninterrupted time with Alex, if you know what I mean. While I’m at it, a foot massage wouldn’t be bad either. Since the baby, it seems we don’t get to spend any time together, just the two of us.”

“So, your biggest thing is that you don’t feel like you and Alex spend enough time together?”

“It’s not just that. It’s like all our conversations revolve around the baby. Alex and I will sit down to have a grown-up conversation and there goes AJ, wailing his head off.”

“Sounds like you have a real baby living under your roof,” the doctor admitted.

“Yeah, and since he’s been around, I don’t have any time for myself—so I decided to take all the time I needed.”

“By that you mean?”

“I decided to let other people worry about the baby. I feed him, of course, but other than that, he’s not my problem.”

“Do you always want to feel that way?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah, do you?” Alex repeated.

I spun around and looked at him. What I saw ripped out my heart. He was sitting there looking like a broken man.

I rushed to him sobbing and kneeled at his feet. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean it. I want to get better. Will you help me? Please, say you’ll help me.”

Alex responded by pulling me up into his arms and holding me so tightly, I thought I would burst.

Nobody was home when I arrived, which was good. I just wanted to relax, while thinking about Red's words from earlier. How the hell was I going to deal with my mother? 

I couldn't concentrate on that fully, though. Not with Freckles blowing up my phone. Everything inside of me told me not to answer, just like when my mother kept calling a few months ago. I could always sense when bad news was coming, and truthfully, always aimed to avoid it. But if the situation with my mother had taught me anything, it's that you can't avoid that shit forever.

So when Freckles called for a tenth time, I picked up. "Bitch, what?" I yelled into the receiver, springing from the couch. "Why are you blowing up my phone? What could we possibly have to discuss?"

"Mason, don't hang up," Freckles sobbed. "Just hear me out."

Great. Waterworks. "Speak," I snarled, rubbing my neck with my free hand.

"I need you, Mason. You're the only person I can speak to about this. Everything has gone wrong."

"Really, now?" I laughed, "that's a fucking shame. What in the hell makes you think I need to hear your sob story? What happened, did you run out of people to hold at gunpoint?"

"Listen," she started, "I'm sorry about that. That wasn't me, that was—"

"What? That wasn't you? What, that was some other freckle-faced bitch that looked like you? Was it all my imagination? Huh?"

"No. It was me, but it wasn't my idea."

"What the fuck ever," I growled, quickly dismissing her. "What do you want?"

"To see you. I just got fired from the nursing program at the hospital. Bitch-ass Randolph talkin' about I wasn't taking it seriously."

"Good for him."

"Mason, stop. That's not fair."

"Fair, huh?"

"I just got a call that my grandmother is in serious condition and might not make it."

"Damn."

"Cancer."

I stopped in my tracks and sat back down. What were the odds that another person had cancer? It was like Blogsome was suffering from an epidemic and shit. I immediately felt for her. "How long has she had it?" I asked.

"I don't know," Freckles said through tears. "All I know is that I'm losing everything in my life and just need to not lose anything else. You have to forgive me, Mason. Please. I need to redeem myself."

I took the phone away from my ear and drew a deep breath. What the fuck could I do for this girl I barely knew? The one who threatened to kill me only a week ago. Sure, her life was falling apart, but shit, join the club. I sighed again before bringing the phone back up to my ear. "Where are you?"

"At home," she confessed. "I'm shaking and I can't stop. I want to go see my grandmother, but I can't move. I feel like I'm paralyzed."

"OK, OK. Calm down. What do you need from me?"

"I need you to come get me and take me to the hospital. I can't drive. I can't stop crying."

"Yeah, well, if you expect me to come get you, all that crying shit has got to stop. I don't do tears," I snapped.

"OK."

After getting directions to where Freckles lived—which was on the "other" side of town—I took a shower and headed over, all the way having second thoughts about agreeing to pick her up. I convinced myself that taking her to the hospital to see her grandmother was all right, only because it might help me find out more about the disease my mother might have.

I pulled up in front of the rundown three-story building and called her phone. "Hey, I'm here. You ready?"

"Hey, Mason, can you come upstairs for a minute?" she asked. "I need your help."

This bitch, I muttered before getting out of the car. The place had no buzzer and looked like anyone could come in and out as they pleased. It was times like these I wish I'd brought one of Red's guns with me. No telling what would jump off in there. I headed to the second floor and narrowly missed stepping on what looked like a baby possum. "Oh, hell no," I said to no one in particular. When she said her life was fucked up, she wasn't lying.

There was no bell, so I knocked on her door. "Come on in," she said. Freckles was a blur, running back down the hallway to the bathroom. "I'll be right there." I could hear her giggling from down the hall.

I hesitated before entering, scanning the room. The place was neatly kept, everything in its place. I sat down at what looked like the dining room table. "Let's go!" I commanded.

She came back down the hallway, still in her robe. "What the fuck, Freckles? You're not even dressed yet. You said you needed a ride!"

She smiled before stepping out of her robe. She was butt naked. "I do need a ride," she said, stumbling toward me. As she got closer, the smell of alcohol filled my nostrils. This bitch was drunk as hell. "It's my birthday, Mason. I'm legal now," she cooed innocently. "And I need to ride YOU."

Fuck.

On that particular night, I had sat curled up on the couch, as I told him about everything that had taken place, with the exception of my drunken tryst with Mason on his living room floor. We’d talked until the wee hours of the morning, and unlike Mason, Rain listened. He also offered open arms. Something I felt I really needed right now.

Tonight, on one of his rare evenings off, he’d invited me by for grilled shrimp kabobs, a glass of wine and good conversation. After eating, we sat out back where a slight breeze was blowing. The night air, though beginning to warm, still had a chilled edge. Noticing my discomfort, Rain had gone inside to get me a blanket.

When he returned, I stood and walked over to the hammock. “Let’s lay here and look up at the stars,” I said.

“Since when did you become a stargazer?” he asked, chuckling.

“I’m not as nature averse as you might think,” I said, stilling the hammock so that I could lie down.

Rain tossed the blanket across my legs and expertly climbed in beside me, laughter rumbling in his throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“Remember the first time we tried this?”

I laughed, trying not to flip us out of our precarious arrangement. “It took us how long to stay on this damn thing?”

“At least two hours,” he said.

“Boy, those were the days,” I said, snuggling against his body.

“Yeah, they were.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and held me close as the hammock swayed gently. “I miss those days,” he said, as sort of an afterthought.

“Sometimes I think I’m afraid of being happy,” I whispered. “I mean, what if I give everything to something and then it backfires?”

“Are you talking about us or Terry?”

“Both.”

“Well, you can’t know if you don’t try, now can you?”

I grunted. “I’ve tried with you before and look where it got us. The writing’s on the wall. I just cannot do relationships.”

“For all the confidence you show to everybody, I know the hurt little girl that lives inside of here,” he said, touching a finger to my chest. “The only thing you have to realize is that you don’t have to front with me, Yanni. You can be who you are.”

“You say that until one of the dangerous jobs come up, and then things change. Isn’t that what happened before?”

Rain sighed, nestling his face in my hair. “How I felt—how I feel—about you never changed.”

“Well, why did it end?”

“Because you pushed me away. And don’t say you didn’t . . . I saw it in your eyes. Every time you’ve taken on a contract that could blow up, you’ve pushed me away.”

It was my turn to sigh. Rain was right. And instead of telling him how much I cared and didn’t want to subject him to the pain of me never coming home, I became tight-lipped, just as I was now.

It wasn’t until recently, with the whole Terry fiasco, that it hit me how I always played the role of tough cookie. How saying ‘I love you’ was the most difficult thing I could ever do. Whether I could attribute that to my mother, too, I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that all my life I’d lost because of it.

“You’re quiet,” Rain said.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Just things. You. Terry. What kind of mother I’d make.”

“I think you’d make a great mother.”

“You really think so, or are you trying to get your way with me?”

“Both,” Rain said, laughing.

I angled my face toward his, and without saying a word, he brought his face to mine and kissed me gently. When he finally released me, I breathed in deeply, fixing my gaze on the star-lit sky. “I was thinking about inviting Terry to Red’s celebration barbeque. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking that might be the best idea I heard all day. So, does that mean you’re going to hear her out?”

I nodded. “If I’m going to do things differently than Dorothy did with me, it’s got to start somewhere. Where better than to introduce her to the family?”

“Umm, this barbeque . . . am I invited, too?”

“You know Red wouldn’t dream of not inviting you.”

“I know Red would want me there . . . I’m talking about you.”