The Promise
Page 16

Then I sold a car to a man who owned a huge office supply business who recognized my skills and he hired me away. I was later poached by my current boss who sold hospital supplies.
Since then, I’d had headhunters come to me frequently to try to lure me away.
I’d stayed for stupid reasons, holding on to a life that didn’t want me.
But I also stayed for good reasons. I liked my job, made better than good money, had great clients, a boss who wanted in my pants but, even so, respected me, and nearly all my co-workers were friends.
Two months ago a pharmaceutical company in Indianapolis approached and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Even though I had no pharmaceutical sales experience, I had hospital sales experience so I knew the drill and a number of the players. I’d be heading up my own team and my base salary would be nearly double my current salary. The area my team and I were going to cover was vast, which meant travel—an idea I liked.
The escape hatch opened, I decided to slide through.
But I was going to miss my boss, my clients, my co-workers, and especially Asheeka.
I prepared my hair in the brush for another blast of heat, aimed my eyes on Asheeka in the mirror, and told her, “You do that, old lady Zambino will come outta her house with her bowling ball. She might be eighty-two, but she’s got mad skills with that ball. So I’m not sure it’ll go too great for your brothers and their brothers.”
After delivering that, I blasted my hair with heat.
When I was done and moving on to new territory, Asheeka said, “I’m worried about you.”
She said this, I knew, because, while she was taping the clean bandage to me, I told her about what Benny was up to. Since then, she’d been biding her time, likely looking for when she’d have my undivided attention. As that was not happening and she actually did have to go to work eventually, she was winging it.
I turned my eyes from my hair to her and assured her, “I’m gonna be okay.”
“Boy like that can be persuasive,” she replied.
I knew that and was scared shitless of it.
“I’ll be okay,” I repeated.
“Honey.” She leaned toward me, putting her elbows on her knees, but her eyes didn’t leave mine in the mirror. “My next question should come with wine and relaxing music after we’ve had facials and our hair done, but I gotta throw it out there. And that question would be, why wouldn’t you want him to persuade you?”
I pressed my lips together and blasted the curl with heat.
When I switched off the dryer, Asheeka kept at me. “Avoidance? From Frankie Concetti? The girl who lets it all hang out?”
“He’s my dead boyfriend’s brother,” I said for the millionth time in less than two days. Though, this time, it was telling her something she knew already.
She nodded. “I see why you wouldn’t wanna go there. I totally see that. But I saw that boy down there, and when I say that, I’m not only talkin’ about the fact that he looks good enough to eat. It’s that he was sweet but firm when he told me I had to look out for you. Not fall for any of your shit when you tried to convince me you could do somethin’ on your own that I didn’t think it smart that you be doin’. And that I needed to get that pill down you ’cause you’re prideful and stubborn and tryin’ to hide the pain.” She paused, didn’t release my eyes in the mirror, and finished, “He cares, Frankie. A lot.”
“That’s not the point,” I told her.
“What is the point?” she asked.
“The point is, it’s just not right,” I explained.
“That’s not the point ’cause that’s bull-hockey.”
I fiddled with my curl and blasted it with more heat because I didn’t want to be talking about this again.
When I was done, Asheeka got right back in there. “You’re holdin’ a grudge.”
I looked back at her in the mirror. “Uh…yeah.”
She shook her head. “Only God can judge him and his family for the way they treated you. Here, on earth, the right thing to do is forgive. Harder to forget and that’ll mess with you, honey. That’s your cross to bear and that’s the whole thing about forgiveness. They gave you that cross and it’s you who has to bear it at the same time findin’ a way to forgive. That’s the reason forgiveness is divine. ’Cause someone wrongs us, we live with that wrong right alongside them, but it’s us who has to find the strength to let them off the hook. If they work for it, ask for it, only you have the power to offer it to them so their soul can be less heavy. And the right thing to do is use that power.”
“I am. I’ve already decided that. That’s why I’m not taking you up on the offer to rally your brothers. I’m gonna let them heal the breach,” I shared before I ended it. “Then I’m gone.”
She stared at me in the mirror.
I went back to my hair.
My arms were tired, I had a nagging ache that prolonged standing and moving was beating through the medication, and I knew I should give up on my hair.
But I didn’t.
Asheeka said no more. Just when I got down to sliding my fingers coated with elixir through my hair and putting another coat of mascara on, she walked into the bedroom and came back with a fresh nightgown.
I pulled it on over my undies and saw it was really cute. The one I’d chosen last night was kind of a caftan—flowy and comfortable, but full coverage.
This one had a high-low hem, the front of which hit me several inches below the knees, the back dip went nearly to my ankles. The neckline plunged to an empire waist, with gathering at the bodice and waistline that drew attention to the cle**age. And last, it was a bright coral color that looked great with my hair.
You could see the turquoise lace of my bra at the neckline but…whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time I showed hints of a bra, including to Ben and Theresa.
“Cute nightie,” Asheeka observed, giving it a once-over.
“Gina. She has an eye for cute,” I told her.
“Sexy-cute,” she told me.
I looked into the mirror. The cle**age was sexy. The material was semi-shiny and clingy.
Jeez, it was sexy-cute. Who knew Gina had that in her?
“I’m thinkin’ you’re good for now and need to take a load off,” Asheeka said.
I turned to her and took the hint.
She needed to go.
“Sorry, babe, my mind’s all over the place. You gotta go.”