So Shirley, exhausted emotionally and physically, but mostly emotionally, collapsed on the sofa and picked up the remote. Andre had texted her he'd picked up the boys for their summer visitation, and not only did he tell her that the babysitter still needed paid, (overtime, of course) but his girlfriend needed gas money for picking up the boys. The stripper girlfriend he'd left her for. Yeah, that girlfriend.

As she flipped through the channels, memories of how often she'd wished she could find the time to watch tv hit her in a hurtful, ironic way. Now that she had the time to watch tv, with no kids demanding the remote, all she wanted at that moment was to hold her boys, to yell at them for the twentieth time to take a bath, to say their bedtime prayers, to brush their teeth...and those same boys who broke her heart on a daily basis by not realizing how much she loved them and sacrificed for them were spending time with the girl that their father cheated on her with. The woman who broke up their family. She loved God, and considered herself a religious person, a faithful and kind person...but she was starting to wonder if all of her faith had been misspent.

She stared blankly at whatever the channel was on...some kids' program, left on from when the boys were watching tv as she got ready to go to school that day. She knew that Andre was a good father, despite his inability to be a good husband. The kids would be fine. She should watch tv and just relax...but it hurt. Everything in her home...the tv channels, the books, video games, snack bowls not put in the sink, the family pictures...all reminded her of her family, and how they weren't thinking much of her at that moment, if at all.

So she sent a few text messages to her boys and waited for a response. The cell phone that she paid for, and yet...no response. She saw their facebook status as showing them online. For a second she thought about sending them a message, but what was the point? More than likely, they'd ignore her, shut off the chat feature, or just, like everyone else, forget that her feelings were being hurt by the things that her loved ones did to her on a daily basis.

Just then, as she had started to close her eyes and was praying for sleep to overtake her, there came a knock on the door. Maybe it was Andre. For the millionth time, and despite realizing rather quickly that this was a foolish dream, and nothing more, Shirley prayed that it would be her husband asking to come home, telling her how sorry he was for hurting her, that he was wrong to ever take her love for granted.

No such luck. Even worse luck, it was Pierce. Yeah, that Pierce.

"What do you want? It's late, I'm getting ready to go to bed..." she sighed, still not letting him into her home. She'd never really liked that Pierce. But for some reason just knowing that the aging racist was a multi millionaire and lived in a house bigger than her town, well, for no good reason, she felt suddenly self-conscious about letting her into her tiny abode.

He smiled and held out a bottle of wine. "May I come in? I know it's a Friday night, and more than likely, as a newly single beautiful black woman, you have dozens of suitors waiting outside..or inside..your bedroom, but I just thought..."

Shirley's eyes narrowed. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"What?" A confused Pierce asked, looking around.

"Pierce, it's late, I've had a hard day, I'm tired, stressed, and although you all feel free to make fun of my pathetic little life while we're at Greendale..."

"No," Pierce shook his head. "I meant it..you're a beautiful woman, and I wouldn't be surprised if you had men knocking your door down. I know I would be."

"Looks like you got a damn good start," and without meaning to, Shirley broke into a smile.

They both laughed nervously, and although she was sure she would regret it, Shirley let him into her home.

He looked around, and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the mockery she was sure he would throw at her concerning her small little home.

"Shirley.."he began, and she snapped at him.

"What? What is it? If you're here to remind me of how much money you have and how big your place is and how my home is half the size of your wine cellar.."

"I was just going to ask where your kitchen is. I was hoping to put this.." he held up the bottle of expensive alcohol he'd brought with im..."On ice. I don't know where the refrigerator is."

"Oh." she smiled self-consciously. They both laughed nervously, and she just pointed him to the other room. He damn near tripped over her son's backpack, and her first instinct was to apologize profusely. Then she remembered- this was Pierce, who was lucky to get out of his own bed without falling on his face.

"Can I bring you a glass? It's vintage...I bought it on one of my weekend trips to Paris some time ago..." Pierce offered as she heard himself popping the cork on the bottle.

"Paris? I'm not sure I deser..." she stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. Of course her first instinct was to say that she didn't deserve such a nice and expensive treat...and if it were anyone else offering, she would have definitely graciously refused. But again, this was Pierce, so really, as he always said whatever was on his mind and had insulted her on more than one occasion...did she really feel like worrying about his feelings and well-being?

They settled on the sofa, and as he grabbed the remote, Shirley realized no, she did not really care about hurting his feelings any more than he ever worried about hers...and that was kind of a nice feeling to think about herself, just this once.

"Shirley.." he whispered, and she looked at him, eyes wide open. "would you like a sugar daddy?"

She stood up, completely insulted at his offer. "I do not need nor want your money, Pierce. I don't care how rich you are, don't you be coming around my home flaunting your money around like I'm some kind of groupie or whatever...I'm not that kind of woman, and for you to just walk in here and be nice to me and then insult me like that...boy, I'd say your prayers if I were you. The end of the world, at least your world, is at hand."

Pierce looked around and reached in his pocket. He held out for her a package of sugar daddies...the caramel candies. She didn't know what to say...or if she should laugh or cry.

"Would you...here," she sat down and turned on the tv and flipped through the channels. "here's a good movie..National Lampoon's Vacation...have you ever seen it?"

"Na, I don't care for that. From what I hear that guy is a total asshole in real life. Please...that guy wasn't that funny or good looking. What do you want to watch?" he handed her the remote.

"I don't.."

"Shirley," he started. "Before you think I'm feeling sorry for you...know that I have over 5000 channels on my tv. I don't know about you, but I'm so sick of making all the freaking choices over what to do in my own home on a daily basis...I'd kind of hoped you wouldn't mind making the decision for me."

She relaxed, sat back, and as she flipped through the remote, without looking at him, she sighed. "Thank you...Pierce."

"No problem. Want to make out?"

She looked at him and was ready to go off on him, but instead she just shook her head and she laughed.

Why she was laughing, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she was laughing, and as bad as she'd been feeling she didn't even mind that it was Pierce who was making her laugh.

As long as he didn't get the wrong idea about her...then it just might be a decent evening indeed.

And, true to form, as soon as she started to settle back on her couch, she could feel Pierce put his hand on the small of her back. She shot him a look, he removed it, and they settled on Evan Almighty.

TBC