LITMIR.BIZ

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“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m on my fourth goblin truffle. If I’m not careful, I’m going to split the zipper on this costume!”

      The women laughed.

      “Are you a friend of the Hawthornes’?” Tangela asked, picking up a plate.

      “No, I came with Warrick Carver. Do you know him?”

      Squinting, as if trying to place him in her mental Rolodex, she shook her head. “I can’t say that I do. Is he your boyfriend?”

      “I wish. If he wasn’t so obsessed with his work, I’d be all over him.” Alexis bit into a pecan spider cookie and chewed. “And I think he’s still hung up on his ex. I can’t be anybody’s rebound. Not even for a hottie like Warrick.”

      Convinced she’d misheard, Tangela inched closer and blocked out the other voices in the room. “What kind of things does he say?”

      “Not much really. He said she kept the house clean and had dinner and a cold beer ready for him when he got home from work.” Laughing, Alexis raked her fingernails through her hair. “She sounds like a fifties housewife if you ask me! Pa-th-e-tic,” she sang, rolling her eyes.

      Tangela had always questioned her unwavering devotion to Warrick and hearing Alexis, a perfect stranger, belittle her, made her feel like a fool. Instead of ironing his dress shirts and scrubbing the kitchen floors to a shine, she should have been working her way up the corporate ladder. “So, there’s no chance you and this Warrick guy might hook up?”

      “Not as far as I can see. He has this Tangela chick on a pedestal and I’m not about to compete with Ms. Doubtfire.”

      Tangela winced. She remembered when she was Alexis’s age and she’d never, ever been that together. Young, insecure and desperate for love, she’d put all her hopes and dreams on hold to plan her future with Warrick. Married at twenty-six. First baby at twenty-eight. Dream home by thirty. It was too bad he’d turned out to be a toad instead of her Prince Charming.

      “Well, it was nice talking to you.” Alexis wiggled her fingers. “Tootles!”

      As she watched the woman saunter off, feelings of regret settled in. Tangela wished she’d made better decisions, but refused to beat herself up over the past. Thrilled to be working at American Airlines but wanting more, she knew it was just a matter of time before she got a management position. And once she found Mr. Right, she’d have the loving, caring family she had always longed for. The one she’d never had but knew existed.

      A lump formed in her throat. Three years ago her mother had died of heart failure and as she’d watched her mother’s casket being lowered into the ground at the funeral, she’d decided she, too, wanted, needed someone to care for her in her last days. Two days after the funeral, she’d sat Warrick down and told him to pick a wedding date. He’d refused. His dad was in the hospital, he was swamped at work and his family needed him. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Knowing she’d never be strong enough to move out if Warrick was around, Tangela rented a trailer the day he left for New York, loaded her things and left town.

      Even now, after all this time, she remembered their last conversation. The anguish in his voice was unbearable, but she’d been strong. No, she wasn’t coming back. Yes, she was sure this was what she wanted. Her eyes burned at the memory, and to loosen the tightness of her throat she downed the rest of her drink. Ready to go, she tapped her date on the shoulder. When she caught Warrick eyeing her, she grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the coat room.

      Forty minutes later, Leonard turned his battered sedan into Tangela’s apartment complex. “Can I come in for a while?”

      “Sorry, but I have an early-morning flight,” she said, discreetly scratching her arm. Tangela had fallen in love with the cat-woman suit on sight, but after five hours in it, she wanted to set the stupid thing on fire. Sweat, leather and shea butter made for terribly itchy skin, and although she’d won the prize for best costume, she’d decided that the hundred-dollar Nordstrom gift card wasn’t worth all the trouble.

      “Tangela, I really like you,” Leonard confessed, stretching his meaty arm across the back of her seat. “I know we agreed to see other people, but I don’t want anybody else. I want you.”

      Right words, wrong guy, she thought, unlocking the passenger door. Warrick’s face popped into her head, but Tangela cleared the image from her mind. Thinking about him would lead to fantasizing and she didn’t want to go down that road again. Marriage was on the horizon, not hooking up with a man with whom she’d once shared an incredible passion. They didn’t have a future, and that was reason enough for her to stay far away from him.

      “Come here.” Eyes closed, lips puckered, he moved in for a kiss. Minuscule pieces of spinach were trapped between his front teeth and he smelled like onion dip.

      Looks like I found another winner! Convincing herself it was his bad breath and not seeing Warrick again that was turning her off, she twisted her body toward the window. His lips grazed her cheek. His mustache felt like hard, brittle whiskers and made her think of her foster mother’s cat, Rufus.

      “I’m attracted to you and I know you feel the same way, so what are we waiting for?” Shifting in his seat, he licked his thin lips. “A man has needs, you know.”

      Tangela almost choked on her tongue. Leonard had said a lot of funny things since they’d met last month, but that took the cake. “Good night, Leonard. Take care.”

      At the door of her apartment condo, she waved, then turned the lock and went inside. “Whoever said dating was easy ought to be shot!” she complained, slipping her aching feet out of her black stilettos. Tangela considered calling Sage to vent. Before meeting her husband, Marshall, her best friend had dated a long list of losers, and if anyone would understand how she was feeling, it was Sage. Tangela reached for the phone, but remembered that Sage was in Los Angeles watching her stepson, Khari, play in the regional basketball championships.

      Fifteen minutes later, Tangela stretched out on the bed and allowed India. Arie’s voice to shower her with self-love and tranquility. Warrick looked good tonight. Good enough to take home and make love to. Startled by the thought, she rolled onto her side, searching the room for a suitable distraction. Something. Anything that would take her mind off her ex.

      Sitting up, she reached for the stack of magazines on her night table, and plopped them down on her lap. For the third time in days, she scrutinized the People magazine cover. When she’d opened her mailbox and seen it lying among her bills, she’d actually danced around the kitchen. But when she read the interview, her excitement had waned.

      “Food addiction, my ass,” she grumbled, tossing the magazine onto the floor. She was fit and fabulous whether she was a size eighteen or a size ten. Just because the editorial staff didn’t believe her didn’t mean it wasn’t true. She’d lost the weight without even trying. Having been to Guadalajara numerous times, she’d felt comfortable walking from her host family’s house to the institute where she taught English classes and studied Spanish.

      Her host mother, Ima, was weight-conscious and took great pride in preparing tasty, low-calorie meals for the family. Three weeks after arriving in Mexico, Tangela had lost twelve pounds. Six months later, she was down to a size fourteen and by the end of the year, she was at the lowest weight she’d ever been.

      Tangela wished she could curl up in bed and watch TV, but she had to get ready for work tomorrow and her clothes weren’t going to pack themselves. After trading in India. Arie for the Black Eyed Peas, she grabbed one of the suitcases from the back of her closet.

      As she heaved the suitcase onto the bed, it fell open, sending photo albums, stray pictures and DVDs crashing to the bedroom floor. For a moment, Tangela stood there motionless, unsure of what to do. She’d been meaning to get rid of these old mementos, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Warrick wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, but it just didn’t seem right tossing perfectly good pictures into the trash.

      Tangela had always considered herself a fairly with-it per son. In spite of having been raised

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