Page 37 of The Impact (Parachutes #3)

“Doll wants to keep it lowkey this year since she knows we’re breaking the bank next year.

The big Sweet 16, and all. She just wants a few friends for a barbecue, camping in the backyard with tents, smores on the firepit, that kind of thing.

Maybe one of those blowup movie screens?

I told her your house is probably the best. More backyard space. ”

The quiet on the other end reminded her of his distaste when she referred to it as his house.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll have Jodie find a planner,” he tasked his assistant.

“I don’t need a planner. I have cool ideas.

” Tahli surveyed her neighborhood. Children laughing.

Birds chirping. The smell of chlorine and grilled sweet meats wafting throughout the streets.

Thank God her rash thinking didn’t relocate her too far.

Her children loved their town. She loved their town.

“Aight, Miss Cool Ideas. I’ll have Jodie find a planner that doesn’t mind taking the backseat. Stop trying to do everything.” There was a pregnant pause. “I saw the Jamaica pictures.”

Tahli stopped pacing. “You don’t even check social media.”

“I peek in on yours,” he blew her mind. “You enjoyed it?”

She chewed off her lipstick. “I did.”

Vin’s sigh prefaced his next words. “He’s keeping a smile on your face, baby love?”

“He is,” she admitted. “But mostly, I’m maintaining my smile these days.”

The silence swelled with regret.

“Okay.” Vin spoke it tight. Then…

“I’m eating shit, Tahli. If the goal was to destroy me, it worked.”

“The goal has nothing to do with you, Vin. The goal was always to find my peace. I’m sorry if that disturbs you in the process. But you’re a big boy. You’ve been through worse.”

He snickered. “Nah, baby love. This is a new variant of torment. But if it brings you peace, then I’ll take my medicine.”

Tahli smiled a little with a head shake.

“I’ll have the kids ready. Oh—actually…never mind.”

She pursed her lips. Probably not the best time, after the light mood turned so heavy.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What, Tahli? I’m not asking again.”

“I was gonna ask you for something…when I thought you were coming here. But…it’s cool.” A blue jaybird landing on her porch ledge.

“What is it?”

She’d be kid-free. It had been a long week. Drew had a thing.

“Some, um…just maybe some…Blue Zushi?”

His slow laughter rolled, shifting the melancholy mood. Tahli could picture his big body rumbling in amusement. Drew didn’t know she smoked the occasional weed. It wasn’t a secret. Just wasn’t disclosed. He didn’t do it, so what point did it serve?

“Oh, you want some Zaza. What happened? Who did it?”

“It’s just been a long week,” she chuckled. “I’m starting to really hate my job.”

“Pahlmeyer ain’t cutting it?” Vin called out her wine choice.

“Not tonight.”

“I got you. Corey can bring you something. Might not be Blue, but it’s something.”

“Thanks, Vin. Bye.”

“Bye, baby love.” She didn’t even correct him. That’s how good the day was.

Pushing her key into the front lock, a voice on her back startled her.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The ninja of a FedEx worker now stood at the top of her steps, his van behind him. In his hands, a box that appeared to have seen better days. Taped and taped again. Battered. Covered with many layers of forwarding stickers.

“Boy, you can’t be creeping up on people like that,” Tahli warned the baby-faced Black boy. “Especially in this neighborhood. And damn sure don’t do it at night.” Don’t give these licensed-to-carry racists a reason to play duck hunt with you. “What is this?”

“Well…it looks like this package was supposed to go to your old address last month, but the sender put the wrong zip code. They held it at the headquarters for a while. Finally found your forwarding address and sent it back out.”

He was 20, maybe? 25 at most. Fed Ex, UPS, even the post office—they still had her mail fucked up, and she’d been in her place over two months.

He was still stuck there, staring, so Tahli flipped a palm up.

“What? I gotta sign for it?”

“Yes, please.”

As she scribed her name, she felt eyes peeling off her clothing.

“You married?”

“Uh-huh.”

He snickered. “Where’s your ring at then? I think that’s cap. Let me take you out.”

Pushing the little machine back to him, Tahli let him know. “Nobody who talks like my almost 15-year-old daughter can take me anywhere. I am 36 years old with three kids. No cap,” she imitated.

He smirked. “You look good as hell for 36. What you think I ain’t on ya level ‘cause I work for Fed Ex? Listen, I’m mature and I fucks wit’ cougars. You was just flirting wit’ me, so what’s up?”

Tahli’s jaw almost landed in her cleavage, jacked up in her favorite Aubade bra. “Coug…? You think I was…?” Boy, if you don’t get ya young ass from off my steps.” She snatched the busted-up package.

“But hey,” she called when he was at the landing. “Keep working hard, okay? Ain’t nothing wrong with FedEx. I know somebody who worked his way up from a delivery driver to running his own company,” she honored Drew. “I’m proud of you.”

The natural smile that spread across his face transformed him from mischievous to innocent. Reminded her of a grown-up Milo.

Tahli made her way inside, tossing the battered box aside. She crossed the room to her record player. Reserving her absolute favorite albums for vinyl, she thumbed through her Tahli Musical Hall of Fame.

Michael Jackson’s Off the Wall . Stevie Wonder’s Songs In The Key Of Life . Bob Marley’s Exodus . Beyonce’s Lemonade . For today… Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers .

Vin had hipped her to Kendrick. Tahli used to joke that she felt like she was back in history class. Until one day, she let him play her different tracks and she fell into the hole. It became mood music for their long talks, or road trips with sleeping children as they cruised the freeway.

Tahli was getting past the point of blocking out reminders of him.

Too many reminders of him were braided with the roots of her.

So, she snapped her fingers to Die Hard , the lyrics of redemption proverbial.

Returned a text from Drew; his handsome selfie with a limited-edition Stone Imperial beer in his hand, right in the diamond on the Yankees field.

He was a beer-and-baseball man. A simple man.

The kind of man who could fit into the life she’d already established without disrupting it.

A good man who warmed her from the inside with enough hardness. Like a perfectly baked cookie.

He did comment on the price of the beers. That was Drew’s thing—being a tad frugal. Tahli wasn’t as rigid as people thought. Everyone had flaws. People weren’t red flags, they had them. Sixteen years ago, there were red flags that Drew was a little cheap.

Sixteen years ago, there were red flags that Vin had a weakness for sex and a basement inside of him where he kept some shit stored.

“I hope I’m not too late…” Tahli danced bare feet around the living room, carrying on until she rapped along with Kendrick’s second verse, a slight tug in her chest by one line. Because the question was if I told you who I am, would you use it against me?

Tahli’s phone ringing snatched her from reflection, and she dialed the music down.

“Yes.”

“Vin still taking the kids to the Nas concert tonight?”

“Hello, Abigail. How are you? How was my day you ask? It sucked. I hate my job. Week’s been hectic. My TA is pregnant. How about you?”

“Drama, drama. Some things never change. Concert, hoe. Yes or no?”

“Why do I feel like if I answer, I’m setting myself up for something?”

“Because I’m stressed. I want a drink. I can’t have a drink, and I don’t want to go to a meeting. So, I figured my best friend in the whole world, who I moved back across the country for would want to have a girls’ night. If you don’t have plans with Drew’s Dor cas.”

“Please stop calling him that.”

“It’s literally his name.”

“Drew had to take his branch managers to a Yankee game.” Making a good impression as the new president. He tried to get Tahli to join, even if no other wives or girlfriends were. Tahli convinced him how authentic and down-to-earth he’d seem if he made it a guys’ outing.

But she did reply to his next text that came through.

Two more of these beers and I’m on your ass tonight, Ms. Hall.

Tahli bit her lip, typing quickly.

Send me a pic with your tongue out, eater.

“Are you guilt-tripping me because you moved back to Jersey?” Tahli redirected.

“I’m actually guilt-tripping you because I’m a recovering addict who moved back to Jersey. And Paige has a date.”

“The Indian chick?”

“The Indian chick,” Abby confirmed. “And she likes her. She bought her a Pandora bracelet, and I helped her pick out charms. She said she wanted each one to have meaning. It was like watching a newborn giraffe walk.”

“Spooky,” Tahli admitted. “What were you thinking? Because I was gonna order Thai food and watch Dream Warriors.”

“Really? Freddy’s still your comfort? I thought The Strangers replaced it? I’m game but I’m picking up sushi, too.”

“That’s cool.”

“What do you want? That Pink Dragon roll thingy?”

Tahli’s response fell somewhere into the box she’d sliced open; a small card resting on a smaller gold box with a red bow.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TAHLI. LOVE, SOPHIE.

“Tahli?”

“Um…y-yeah, Abs. I... I gotta go.”

A burn seared her stomach. Like an ulcer. Sophie, the ulcer. Fingers on her lips did little for the nausea swathing her. A palpable sadness she had tried to escape caught up with her, like a stalking killer in a sequel. Tahli felt attacked, with no way to fight back.

Already weary, she lifted the lid, finding a USB wrapped in bubble wrap.

Sophie had to hate her extra special for this one. Sophie, the bitch.