Free Addie Combo by Tareka Watson Page A

our hearts. And as the days go on
and the weeks become chillier and less intimate, I find I have to mention it somehow. If I don’t
and I lose him, I’ll have to carry the weight of knowing that I thought something was wrong but
did nothing, just stood by and let it all go to waste.
So one night I drive up to his house at the top of Micheltorena. I don’t call first, but that
doesn’t bother me; there’s not much room for formality between us anymore. His security gate
is open, which I don’t think too much about either. And when I get to the top of the stairs, I see
why the gate is opened.
A pizza delivery guy stands in a familiar red and blue polyester shirt and cap, handing
Randolph a pizza box in exchange for a few folded bills. Both look at me as I climb the hill
toward them.
“Addie,” Randolph says, “what a surprise to see you here ... unannounced.”
Ignoring his stammering tone and the unfamiliar tension I feel around the house, I say, “I
hadn’t heard from you, and your cellphone message box is filled up, so I ... ”
“Hurry up, babe,” I hear the voice say from inside the house, “I’m starving for some pizza!”
Randolph looks directly at me and the guilt in his expression is instantly recognizable; blood
drains from his face, his lips shrink up.
Then she appears from the kitchen, wrapping her stillwet body in Randolph’s bathrobe, red
hair plastered against her cheeks. “I put out the wine and the plates. Let’s get back into the
Jacuzzi!” Randolph’s new personal assistant, and new lover, sees me and freezes, standing
behind Randolph. She clears her throat, nervously holding her ground. “Um, hi,” she finally
says. “I’m Sarah.”
The pizza delivery guy stands among us, looking from one awkward member of our
unfortunate party to another. He snaps out of it, turning to Randolph. “Let me get your change
-”
“Keep it.” The delivery guy nods, jams the bills into his pockets, and scurries down the
stairs, leaving the three of us standing in front of the house. Randolph goes on to say, “Addie,
listen, things with us were great, but -”
Rage bursts in me, all at once. I bring my hand up in a blur, smacking the bottom of the
pizza box. It flips up out of Randolph’s stunned hands, the top opening as the box twirls in
midair. Randolph and his new tryst step back, cheesy triangles flinging in every direction.
Sarah says, “She’s crazy!”
You’re next, Red! I want to say, knowing what’s in store for her over the next six months.
But I can’t. I’m so filled with shame and embarrassment and confusion and disgust that all I can
really do is spin on my heels and walk down that hill with as much self-respect and dignity as I
can muster. I leave Randolph with his lover, their ruined pizza and the rest of it behind; a life
like that pizza box, shallow and empty and turned completely upside-down.
What hurts most is that I may as well be thinking of my own life as much as of Randolph’s,
which is not something I can just walk away from.
CHAPTER SIX
I don’t have anywhere else to go, and after hours of sitting home alone, sobbing into my
couch cushions, I accept the invitation to go to Emily’s. She and Quinton are tremendously
supportive, and I really appreciate it.
And I need it.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Emily says in as loving a tone as she can muster. “Guess that’s what
happens when you date your boss, huh?”
Guess that’s what -- ? When I -- ? I repeat her remarks, unable to finish either one. You
recommended I date him , I want to scream at her, you remember how you said in L.A. a personal
life and a business life were one and the same? And you have the nerve to say that to me now, in
the position I’m in?
Not wanting to be thrown out (or deserving to be) I take a deep breath and say, “I played the
hand I was dealt.”
“And you’re not out of the game yet,” Quinton offers from across the room, earning a
disapproving little glance from Emily that