Disclaimer: This manuscript is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray, or represent any particular persons, living or dead, actual events, establishments, or organizations. Other characters, places, and events are products of the authors’ imagination and are used fictitiously to give the novel a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblances of fictionalized events or incidents that involve real persons are purely coincidental.

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Published by Nayberry Publications | 334-787-0733

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Edited by Naiomi Pitre | Imoian Press | www.imoianpress.com

ISBN: 978-0981584331

Cover Design Front: Chanel Smith, Web Presence Designs

Cover Design Back: Shani Greene-Dowdell, Nayberry Publications

Copyright 2009, Shani Greene-Dowdell. All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission, utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by an electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission, please contact Nayberry Publications at info@nayberrypublications.com

Part 1:  The Beginning

Chapter 1

Sisters From Another Mother

Tuskegee, Alabama: a southern region of the United States, where the scorching heat of 103 degrees is a common occurrence. This is the land that has been labeled by anyone who has lived or traveled through the area as “da blazing durty south.” The summer of 1999 was no different. As the Channel 4 noonday weatherman gave his updates, he had just one thing to say about the characteristically hot conditions. “It is hot like fire on this side of the equator!”

The warm and muggy weather adequately reflected the mood of the students in Coach Ballard’s biology class, because when the three o’clock bell rang releasing the Booker T. Washington High School students from their seven-hour prison the homework instructions that he shouted out fell on deaf ears. The students had quickly dispersed from their fourth period classes, eager to head home.

“Hey, sit back in your seats until I dismiss you!” Coach yelled out behind the students, but no one took heed to his instructions except for one shining star, Shayla Thomas.

Being the astute pupil that she was, she took the time and care to write all of the homework notes into her organizer before meticulously collecting her belongings and placing them into her book bag. The first one to arrive and the last one to leave, Shayla’s grades reflected her attentive attitude. She slowly arose from her seat and walked toward the door.

Coach Ballard placed an arm on her shoulder and said, “Hey, Shayla. I appreciate your hard work in my classroom this year, young lady. Don’t think I don’t notice that each and every assignment and test answer is well thought out, calculated, and perfected. Also, thank you for staying seated long enough to get the homework instructions today.”

“Thanks Coach. I like science a lot, so getting the answers correct is just what comes natural to me,” Shayla smiled inwardly, happy that her favorite teacher had noticed her dedication.

“Young lady, you are going places,” he said, before closing his planner and zipping up his brief case.

Nodding and smiling, Shayla exited the classroom. The sincerity in her teacher’s voice was encouraging, echoing sentiments that, even at her young age, she knew to be true. She strived for just that – to go places and do big things in her life. She knew that as long as she kept her G.P.A high enough, she was taking one step in the right direction. Making her way to her locker, she took a mental note to get all of the books that she would need for a long night of studying. The next day was going to be filled with semester exams and quizzes. She collected her text books one at a time.

Microbiology, check.

Literature, check.

Pre-Calculus, check.

Surveying the stack of books in her hand, she thought about the fact that she only had half a year’s worth of gruesome high school work to do, and then she would be off to enroll in Auburn University’s psychology program as an undergrad. Happy would be too simple a word to express how she felt about being accepted into the psychology department’s “Student Choice” program. She was beginning to feel more and more like the young woman that she was blossoming into with every thought of leaving the drudgery of teenage life behind and finally entering into college. Having collected all of the materials that she would need to complete her night’s studies, she quickened her pace. Walking briskly toward the bus stop, her mind on catching the yellow limousine ride home.

“Hey, sistah girl!” It was her best friend Gladys, one-third of the trio of group dubbed “Sisters from Another Mother.”

“Hey, girl,” Shayla slowed down to let Gladys catch up with her.

Gesturing toward Shayla’s heavy load, Gladys asked incredulously, “Did all of your teachers assign you a stack of homework or what?”

About that time, Ronnie, the final third of the trio, strolled up. She had caught Gladys’ last words and chimed in. “I told her not to take all of those hard classes, but she’s hard headed. We are supposed to be chillaxin’ in our senior year,” Ronnie chastised with a smirk.

The two always teased Shayla about the excessive amount of time she spent studying each night. Even on Fridays when it was time to hang out, Shayla stayed glued to her books, determined to keep up her four-point-zero GPA.

“I take the same honors classes as you do, but my teachers don’t give me half as much work as yours. Aye, Dios mio! Coach Ballard takes his little science class too serious,” Gladys added two more unsolicited cents to the pot.

“I know! He does give me a lot of work, but lucky for me science is one of my faves, plus I like my honors classes. They’re preparing me for college, and I need all the preparation I can get.”

Being the brightest apple in the bunch, when it came to making the grades, Shayla cut took pride in cutting no corners when it came to being number one in her class, even if it meant studying all night. Gladys wasn’t too far behind in the intelligence department. Now, Rhonda a.k.a. Ronnie the Gangsta Grezille, on the other hand, well…  Suffice it to say – not so much!

Hoping to encourage her friend, Shayla said, “Ronnie, on everything, I’m getting that master’s degree in psychology, pushing that Benz, and building my three-story house, all before I turn thirty. And I am going to do it all with brainpower. You should join the bandwagon, and start working on your master plan of success.”

Ronnie stated matter-of-factly, snapping her fingers for added effect, “I’m going to find a man that will do all of the above for me before I turn 25. Please believe me.” She rolled her neck as if what she had spoken was written in the bible of truth.

“Good luck with that, chica,” Gladys added, patting Ronnie on the shoulder sarcastically. “But as your friend, I have to tell you to have a plan B while you’re at it. Not saying you won’t land that fly papi to lace you with the finest things in life, mija, but just in case you don’t, have your own plan.”

“I got this, snitches,” was Ronnie’s response, so they dropped the subject.

Walking through the dimly lit school hallway, the three girls chit-chatted about school and their other number one topic of interest – boys. When they walked outside of the building, the strokes of the hot summer heat waves quickly struck them off guard.

Shayla’s soft set brown eyes and tender high-yellow face turned into a frown as she quickly threw her hand up to protect her eyes from the sunlight. Rhonda scrunched her nose up as if the heat was causing a stench too strong for her to bear. Gladys simply walked ahead of the pack as if the heat had not bothered her in the least bit. Despite the scorching heat, the friends walked onto the schoolyard in a confident strut. They were the perfect trio – one smart, one fiery, and one salsa.

A million rays of sunlight couldn't blare out the image that caught their attention next. Damn, that ride is tight, Shayla thought.

“Nice ride,” Gladys was the first to acknowledge the approaching vehicle aloud. A freshly painted, speckled-gray Cutlass Supreme with limo tint rolling on eighteen-inch McLean wheels. Clean. The car swooped around the corner in slow motion, riding slow enough for the friends to get a nice glimpse of the ride. Music thudded so loud from the speakers that the noise sent vibrations through the schools’ glass windows.

Shayla said, “I wonder if he can even hear himself think in that car.”

Ronnie ignored Shayla’s statement and said, “Forget if they can hear. Riding clean like that I bet his money is good. What I want to know is, who is up in there?”

When the car finally came to a stop and the driver’s window slowly slid down, Shayla locked eyes with the caramel brown-skinned driver, and a millisecond of eye contact seemed like hours. The brother was rocking an LL Cool J hat to the back and could have been the rapper’s twin. Skin smooth like butter, luscious lips, and thick eye lashes to boot. His right brow had a slit down the middle like he had some kind of war wound. At that precise instant, he licked his lips, and they turned up into a nice, smooth LL Cool J-style smile. All eyes were on him.

When he looked in the direction of the three friends, the full effect of his handsomeness was overbearing. All they could talk about was how fine he was. Their raging teenage hormones completely took over their minds like a hypnotists spell. It was a good thing that he couldn’t hear anything due to the wicked bass line blasting from his vehicle. His gaze could easily pierce a hole through willing skin. It was Titus Wilson.

Ronnie spoke up first, sounding like Smokey and Craig from the movie, Friday, “Daaaammmn, he is fine! I’m about to get the 411…” She started sprucing herself up, but slowed her roll when she saw Mr. Jackson walking in the car’s direction.

Gladys couldn’t help herself. “Go on and get it, Ronnie. Study long and study wrong, and papi will be my boyfriend. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Caliente!”

“All I can say is what a sistah wouldn’t give! What a sistah wouldn’t give. Umph, umph, umph!” Ronnie said as she freshened her lip gloss.

Fighting back the dreamy look that threatened to take over her face, Shayla simply said under her breath, “A brother like that could take me anywhere, but I’m sure a man that fine is taken.”

Ronnie tossed an irritated look in Shayla’s direction. “There you go trying to couple up with a nigga, Shayla. You have to get to know a dude first, and then have a little fun. You don’t have to ‘boyfriend’ every guy that you think you might like, so to me it doesn’t matter if he has a girlfriend. Let’s leave that marriage and baby carriage for the next chick.”

“Whatever, Rhonda, I don’t do the casual dating scene and screwing around, and you know that. It’s just not my thing.”

“Well, he won’t be your thing, either,” she laughed and pushed Shayla teasingly.

The bass from the Cutlass’ trunk continued to vibrate the school windows with the deafening decibels damn near cracking the glass. For that reason, the gruff assistant principal, Mr. Jackson, fumed as he walked briskly toward the car. As evidenced by his finger pointing and constant yapping, it appeared as though he was scolding the object of the girl’s affection for having his music too loud on school property.

Once the music was at a satisfactory volume, Mr. Jackson walked away from the car, but not without a final warning. “Don’t let me have to tell you about your music again, Mr. Wilson. Understand?”

“Okay, Mr. Jackson,” the young man said before he appeared to zero back in on Shayla.

After Mr. Jackson walked away, it was Michael Hightower, better known as ‘Street Justice’ because of his reputation of running the streets, who trotted up to the car next. The three friends had continued to talk about Titus and how sexy he was, not realizing that Michael had been eavesdropping on the entire interaction. Some people called him ‘Street’ for short. He got the name Street Justice, because he had a reputation of righting all wrongs when it came to matters of the street. You couldn’t break a street rule and let Michael find out about it. He even had a strong following. He practically created the code of ethics for Tuskegee’s projects. Mind you, he had done all of this while maintaining decent grades in high school.

Having gotten an earful by standing next to Gladys the entire time the girls were talking about Titus, he said something to the driver and pointed in the direction of the three girls’. Shayla looked at Ronnie and then to Gladys, shocked. She was even more dumbfounded when Michael jogged back over and addressed her directly.

What are you up to Michael? She thought, but before she could say anything, Michael filled her in.

He said, “My cousin wants you to come over and holler at him, Shay.”

“Street, what does he want with me?” Shayla played it off like she was uninterested and irritated, but all the while on the inside, she was happier than a little bit. Is my hair in place? Do I need a piece of gum? The Thousand Island dressing from my salad at lunch has probably got my breath kicking. She questioned herself frantically. A laundry list of nagging thoughts crossed her mind as she thought about approaching Titus. Rubbing her fingers over her form-fitting shirt to iron out any crinkles, the only thing she could think about was her appearance. Shayla stood taut, visibly nervous, and wished she had a mirror to do a quick check.

Finally, Street said, “I told him you said that ‘He could take you anywhere, and that you’d do anything for his lovin,’. Ain’t that what you said, shorty?” He mocked Shayla’s earlier words and laughed heartily at his embellishment of the truth.

“You can’t be serious!” Shayla wished she could enter into the Twilight Zone instead of having to go talk to the dude for real. Checking and admiring from the sidelines was her modus operandi, but to actually walk up to him and start a conversation was an entirely different story. School work was her expertise. Boys were more complicated.

Picking up on Shayla’s ambivalence, Michael’s voice got serious, saying, “On the real, just holler at my boy, Shayla. He’s good people.”

Shayla cut Michael an eye of disapproval for repeating her conversation with his sexy cousin, but on the cool, she was happy. Nervous, but happy to be introduced and chosen by his cousin.

“Woman up, Shayla, and go handle that,” Ronnie gave her approval and the quick sister pep talk Shayla needed to get her confidence level up. Knowing how girls could be when it came to a fine brother that everyone wanted to talk to addressing specific girl, Shayla held her head high and let her long black hair blow in the wind as she strutted to the car. As expected, eye darts from other girls in the schoolyard flew left and right in her direction. The whispers were audible, but her game face was on.

“Hey. You said you wanted me to come speak to you. What’s up?”

“Really? I thought it was you that was speaking of me,” the driver said, jokingly raising his sexy left eyebrow. A full set of pearly white teeth flashed brightly, causing her to smile.

“Well, yeah. Actually, I was talking about you when you drove up,” she admitted. “But that was between me and my girls, not for Michael to run off and tell you.”

“Is that right?” he said, sliding his pink tongue across his luscious lips once more.

Suddenly, she found the confidence that earlier was tucked away so nice and neat. “Yeah, and you must have liked what you heard and saw, because you requested my presence. Now that you have my undivided attention, I’m gonna ask you again. What’s up?” Shayla stated cockily.

He simply answered, “You.” Game over. She was done for. Seeing her blush, he continued, “Since you’re holding conversations about me and all, without including me, that means you have to give me those digits so you can include me in the next conversation. But next time, the headliners will be just me and you.”

Right about that time, he fidgeted with his CD changer, and Tony Toni Tone’s Just Me And You played softly through the speakers. “You feel me? Just me and you…”

Oh, he was a smooth one, Shayla thought. Feeling a little heated and ready to cool down, Shayla decided to change the subject by teasing him, “I see you’ve turned your music down now. You don’t want Mr. Jackson to kick you off the campus.”

He flashed a cinematic grin and said, “Yeah, Mr. Jackson be tripping, but it’s all good.”

Just me and you, huh? She thought, as she reached into her purse and tore off a piece of paper from her note pad. She wrote her number down and started to hand it to him, but snatched the paper back before it was secure in his hands. “Wait a minute. Before I give you my number, at least tell me your name?”

“Titus, but call me Tee.”

“Okay, Tee.” She put her hand on her hip, poising herself to tell him what type of girl she was. “There are a few other things I need you to know off the top, before I even think about talking to you on the phone. One, you have to treat me like a lady at all times, because I’m nobody’s bitch or ho, and if you don’t know the difference it’s probably best…”

Titus cut her off saying, “Whoooaaa…. ! Wait a minute, babygirl. Pump your brakes. I’m just going to give you a phone call. Let’s start with that. From there, you will have plenty of time to see how well I’m going to treat you as my lady.”

Shayla’s father, Rich Thomas, taught her four valuable lessons. One, she was nobody’s bitch or ho. Two, never let a man disrespect you in any way. Three,  to always think more of herself than anyone else could ever imagine. And four, trust in a higher power, and the rest will fall into place. Those lessons started when she was only knee-high and were engraved in her psyche.

Her father would say, “You ain't nobody’s ho, and I damn sho’ ain’t raising no punk bitches. If you know these things about yourself early on, you will be much better off when dealing with the no good men that are definitely out there waiting to take advantage of you.”

“We’ll see about me being your lady, Mr. Tee,” she said to Titus, cracking a slight grin. Then, she handed him the note with her name and number, placing the pen and remaining paper back into her purse.

He looked at the paper and said, “Shayla. That’s a pretty name.” He smiled, and she blushed for the second time during their conversation. “Tonight around eight, we have a phone date?”

She confirmed, “It’s a date.” On the inside, she nearly melted – not from the sweltering hot summer heat, but from the heat that radiated from his tongue as he spoke. Titus was all of that and a bag of chips to look at, and from the small talk, she could tell that he would be all of that to conversate with. She had some words that definitely fought to escape her lips, but it was too soon to be trying to get all frisky or mushy with him. Not wanting to miss her bus, or stand there another moment looking dazed and mesmerized, she nodded and parted ways.

As soon as she walked off, smiling like she’d hit the lotto, a thick, red-boned chick marched over to his car, arms crossed, and full of ‘tude. The girl’s curly black weave bounced in the wind as she rolled her neck and became locked up in an intense conversation with Titus. The unnamed bandit, sporting a floral sundress and hot pink sandals, pouted and waved her arms back and forth between her outbursts. Then, she pointed in Shayla’s direction and pouted some more. Her cute and cuddly, girl-next-door appearance did not match her disposition.

“What’s up with ole’ girl? I know she don’t want none!” Ronnie’s overprotective, always-ready-to–throw-a-couple-punches behind was rolling up her sleeves and was down for whatever if the pouty girl wanted to start a confrontation.

“Come on, Rhonda, we have to go. It is what it is,” Shayla said as she picked up her book bag, took the first step toward her public transportation ride home, and motioned for Rhonda to follow suit.

“Where is Gladys? Did her bus come already?” Shayla asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Ronnie said, keeping an eye on the fuming female talking to Titus.

“Just let it go, Rhonda. Let’s go,” Shayla told her, noticing that her attention was still on the arguing couple.

Rhonda replied, “For now, it’s whatever, but she better not get froggy.”

Chapter 2

The Bonding Period

Later that evening, Titus called Shayla, and they talked for hours about everything under the sun. She wasn’t used to anyone talking to her as if she was a grown woman instead of a teenager in high school. They spoke at length about school, life goals, personal interests, and then they got on the topic of dating. He explained to her that the girl who had come over to his car creating a scene was his ex-girlfriend, and he wasn’t feeling her like that anymore. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to let go.

“Are you ready to let go?” Shayla asked.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I have moved on, but she is still on some ‘We’re meant to be together. Let’s get married and have a baby, and I love you,’ shit. The girl is way too bossy. I’m nineteen. I’m not looking for another mother or a wife, but someone that I can connect with as I feel my way through life. Understand?”

Shayla decided to stroke his ego while at the same time gauging his response. “I feel you. So, you got it like that? You’ve got girls going around tripping about you? Because, believe it or not, girlfriend was acting like you were cheating on her or something. Like she was all sprung over you.”

“Nah, it’s not that. It’s just that some females don’t know when to let go when the relationship is dead. You know when the lights are out, it’s time to put the baby to bed. When the thrill is gone, it’s gone.”

“And when it’s on, it’s on, I suppose. Like with us?” At that point in the conversation, Shayla didn’t really care what the girl’s malfunction was. She didn’t care to know her name or her situation. On the exterior, this guy presented himself as the typical sexy thug with brains that sisters always dream about, and on the inside, she was discovering quickly that he was a man with a sincere heart, true integrity, and his whole life ahead of him. She had gotten that much from his intelligent conversation and the dreams he had shared with her.

To show how much he wasn’t feeling the other girl, he continued explaining, “I don’t care anything about that girl. Let me show you tomorrow, when I pick you up from school and take you home. If she doesn’t know by now, she’ll know tomorrow that I’m digging this certain redbone from around the way.”

“Is that right?” Shayla raised an eyebrow as she entwined the phone cord in her fingers.

“Right, and I’m going to show you,” he confirmed.

The next day, Titus picked her up promptly at 3:15PM. Even though she once again had to dodge several eye daggers that shot her way as she approached his car, she was happy to see him turn the corner. He showed her something special when he hopped out of the car, presented her with a single long-stemmed rose, and opened the door for her.

Shayla laughed internally at the bug-a-boo that had been tripping on him the day before as she turned red watching Shayla make her graceful entrance into the car, but more importantly, the girl couldn’t help but take notice of the blood-red rose and the other sweet gestures that Titus had made. Her expression was so priceless that she could have been bought and sold for a quarter at that very moment. From that point on, Shayla and Titus were too caught up into each other to notice the girl running off into the building with one of her chicken-head friends following close behind.

Over the next couple of weeks, the newly-formed couple talked on the phone so much that they’d practically shared every detail of their lives with each other. He’d graduated the year before from Booker T. Washington High’s rival, South Macon. He lived off of J. Anthony Street in the Sloan Mill projects of Tuskegee with his family, including his three brothers and two sisters. He said college wasn’t for him, because “Baby, college ain’t for everybody.” Even still, Titus Wilson was planning to start his own car dealership, and do something three generations of his family had not been able to do – make it out of the Sloan Mill projects.

Shayla shared her dreams of becoming a clinical psychologist and starting her very own practice either in Birmingham or in one of the surrounding cities. She knew there was a dire need for affordable mental health care in Alabama. Watching her mother and brother both fight a lifelong battle with bipolar disease made her more determined than ever to help people suffering with debilitating psychological problems. There were so many people dealing with mental health problems that they were ashamed to admit, and even those that admitted it did not get consistent and/or proper treatment. This was a cause that she was passionate about, even as a teenager.

At seventeen, Shayla had her life all mapped out. Not only would she help the mentally-challenged live a better life, but by the age of twenty-eight, she’d find the perfect husband. By thirty, they would have traveled the world over and would be working on starting a family. Also by that time, she would own a three-story home with a Denali sitting beside the latest sport-style Mercedes in her four-car garage. She had not come from much, but her goals for a picturesque future were far bigger than what she could see with her natural eye. When her grandmother told her, “If you work hard to overachieve, Sweet Pea, everything you desire in this world will be at your fingertips,” she had taken those words to heart.

As far as the new love affair went, things were going so well that after a few months the duo had eventually went on a few dates, spoken on the phone at all times of night, and Shayla had even skipped school a few times to hang out with him. At this point, they were inseparable. Seeds of puppy love had been planted. History was in the making, and on her graduation night, she gave to him her most precious gift – her virginity.

From the minute they left her graduation party, they were hugging and kissing and could barely keep their hands off each other. When they had finally consummated their relationship by making love, Titus had no doubt in his mind that he wanted Shayla on his side as his main girl. She had to be on his team forever. And Shayla loved the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. The next morning after graduation, she had to talk to someone, so she called Ronnie to tell her about her night with Titus.

“Girl, last night everything was so special. Titus went overboard and bought me roses, a necklace, and a ring.”

Ronnie teased, “Whatever, chick! I see that you just brushed your girls off for yo’ special night wit’ yo’ man, huh?”

“I’m with my girls all the time, Ronnie. Don’t be acting all jealous and selfish. You know I had something special planned with Titus,” said Shayla, stopping Ronnie before she started tripping. “Now listen, and stop butting in, so I can tell you about it.”

“Do tell.” Ronnie smirked, secretly a bit envious of the fact that Shayla seemed so happy these days.

“Besides the fact that I love Titus like my next breath, all I can say is that man is all that and a bag of chips! Can you say three snaps in a circle? That man… that man!” Shayla stopped, as if the sheer memory of the prior night had taken her on a ride.

“Oh, you are going to have to give up the goods! Give up the goods.” Ronnie rushed impatiently, ready to hear the details of Shayla’s night.

“Okay, so we drove to the Hilton in Montgomery, right?”

“Uh, huh.”

“By the way, that’s a nice ass hotel! He had the room decorated with rose petals meticulously placed about the floor and bed. Candles were everywhere, honey. He even had a bottle of champagne, which we didn’t get a chance to touch. That man took his time. He had to, you know, because it was my first time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to make love to every inch of my body. Treated me like I was the most important woman in the world. I’ve never experienced anything like it, ever. I think I love him. No, I know I love him. He’s going to be my husband, girl! I just know it.”

“Wait a minute, girl. Wait a minute.” Rhonda sounded as though she were at a loss for words as she put Shayla on hold, called Gladys, and then connected the three of them on a three-way call.

“This is too juicy, so I had to get all my girls together. Shayla don’ let Titus pop her cherry! And now she’s talking about marrying him. Tell Gladys what you told me, but start from the beginning,” Rhonda said, sounding excited for her friend, but at the same time, her voice held a bit of sarcasm.

“I want details, blow by blow, of what could possibly have you talking marriage after one night of so-called ‘love making’, mija,” said Gladys.

So, Shayla started from the beginning, inviting her friends into the most intimate evening of her life – the night that she had become a woman.

Part 2: Eleven Years Later

Chapter 3

Shayla

What is the use of having the world when you had no one to share it with? That was a question that I struggled with all too often for my own taste after six long years of marriage, and the question had become all too cliché. It’s an absolute wonder how time, a whole lot of trials, and many tribulations could change a woman’s outlook on life and love. As it turned out, I did marry Titus, but I never became a clinical psychologist or opened my practice to help others like I had dreamed and my relationship with Titus was far from perfect.

As I paused a moment to take in the sensual and alluring ambience I’d set for the evening, the question pounded into my head like a meat cleaver. The strongest thud pulsated against my temple, sending a pang from my head through my body. That pain took up residence in my heart, piercing my already tattered soul. My mind raced, pondering a million and two questions.

“How could he do me like this again? How could I let him? What had we come to? Where were we going? Why do I love so hard that I can’t let go?” I asked these questions to no one in particular. I was all alone, again. I couldn’t pin down the moment in time that the insatiable joy had left our relationship, but that joy had slipped away from our beautiful home without leaving even the faintest trace of existence.

E-lec-tri-city was in the air, and I was proud to have successfully turned my backyard into a lover’s paradise. Positioned in the middle of the jumbo gazebo in the backyard, the Jacuzzi flowed with warm bubbly water scented with a touch of jasmine oil. Dim post lighting outlined the gazebo creating a glowing allure that could take a lover’s breath away. Pink floating candles shone brightly at the four corners of the gazebo, and an assortment of designer candles meticulously placed around the Jacuzzi added just the right effect. I had anticipated a beautiful night with him.

Well, that burning anticipation dwindled and finally fizzled out once the champagne got hot, the gourmet shrimp fettuccini I had slaved over got cold, and every bubble in the Jacuzzi  fizzled down to faint traces of soap scum. What was supposed to be a night of fiery unyielding passion had turned into a night starring me, myself, and I. I could have screamed when I realized all of the work that I had put in to make this night magical was in vain. Instead of

screaming, I decided to call my best friend, Rhonda, the only person that I could vent to at the moment.

Making my way back into the house, I picked up the cordless phone from the kitchen and speed-dialed the familiar number. The anger began to build as I stepped back out into the dreamy setting I had created in my backyard. The romantic aura had now gone stale with unrealized expectations.

“Ronnie, this negro has done it again!” I fumed, clearing the unused dishes from the picnic table and bringing them back into the kitchen.

“Girl, don’t start. What is it now?”

“He stood me up, again. That’s what.”

“Oh, really?” Her ears seemed to perk up on the other end of the line.

“Just straight pushed me to the back like some kind of second class wife! He’s not even answering his cell, now.”

As I spoke the words to Ronnie, my sister-from-another-mother, I fought back a lone tear that kept threatening to break out of its prideful prison and roll freely from the corner of my eye down my cheek. If I wasn’t wearing his platinum and diamond ring on my finger, I would have thought that I was just some sideline ho vying for his attention.

Aside from the ring and living in his main home, that’s just how I felt. The simple thought of being played to the left by the only man that held my heart cut me deep to the core. He hadn’t been home in weeks. He hadn’t made love to me in over a month, and I hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with him in just as many days. It had been three days ago when he finally called to make tonight’s broken promise to reconnect.

"I can't believe I let myself fall for his lies again, Ronnie. He doesn’t even respect me enough to show up when he makes plans with me.” My hands shook as I poured myself a glass of the warm champagne, taking a long swig with vengeance. Frustrated, I leaned back against my kitchen counter, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder, one arm crossed under my breasts while the other hand nursed my drink.

My gaze dropped slightly, and my spirit dampened more. I added, “I mean, who am I kidding? He rarely comes home, and when he does, it’s for less than an hour or two at a time. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Hang in there, sister,” Ronnie encouraged.

“I love him like sliced bread, Ronnie. You know that, but I can’t continue on like this. I will not sit around here waiting for him night after night as my clock runs out. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’m not getting any younger. Before you know it, this diva will be the big 3-0.”

Seeming to not address the Titus issue on purpose, Rhonda made a valiant, yet unsuccessful, attempt at cheering me up. With a smile evident in her voice, she said, “Well, look at the bright side, girl. Thirty is the new twenty.”

“I ain’t never fell for that trick!” I exclaimed, standing up straight and slamming my empty glass on the kitchen island in front of me. “Thirty is not the new twenty. Girl, go check that mirror one more time. You and I, we look twenty-eight.”

Just the mention of my age made me feel worse. I was not getting any younger. Having spent so many years with a man that didn’t seem to realize just how precious time truly was, and the fact that I was not living according to my dreams, added at least five years to my age.

At that point, I lost my battle with that stubborn tear. It claimed its freedom as it drizzled down my right cheek and fell onto the carpeted floor, alongside my pride and self respect. If my father could see me now, he would be so disappointed.

This marriage to Titus and ‘the streets’ had me experiencing the weakest point of my life. I couldn’t believe how far gone I was for a man who had somehow managed to inspire me to reach for the stars only to shoot my rising star down.

I had rearranged and reorganized all of my goals and dreams to accommodate his. He successfully stole my heart, and then just like a thief in the night, he locked me away in this secure palace and left without a trace. In the short period of time that we were together, I had managed to break off nearly every tie to the outside world and put anything that I might have wanted to do with my life on hold.

My dream of being a clinical psychologist was shelved as I helped Titus strategize and grow his business. When he made his first million, he said, “No wife of mine will be working.” So, at his persistence, I reluctantly settled into the idea of being a pampered housewife.

I settled myself in. I always believed in his promise that right now we were just stacking chips with the understanding that once the day came when his money was all clean, we would revisit my dream of opening the psych office. That had always been my goal.

The only connections that I still had from my previous life before becoming The Mrs. Wilson were Rhonda and Gladys. I rarely even visited my family anymore, because my mother didn’t like the hold that he had on me. When my mother didn’t like someone, it was a given that the rest of the family would despise them, as well.

Without mother’s approval, no one made it in or out of the family. That was the way it was, until I defied that unspoken rule by marrying Titus anyway, against her better judgment. Despite mother’s bipolar illness, she still had the presence of mind to know that Titus would put me through more than she was willing to sit back and watch as a bystander.

When my father suffered a heart attack four years ago, mother was distraught, and as a result, she became even more persistent that I could do better for myself. She didn’t want to see stress eat me alive as it had done Daddy for years while he worked to provide for our family.

It took me a while to realize that I was staring into the glass mirror hanging on our kitchen wall. It revealed a reflection that I wasn’t prepared to see.

Mama is always right, I could hear her vivid words playing out in my mind. The image before me forced me to put more stock in the meaning of the words. My petite frame was devoid of the beautiful spirit that once dwelled within it. My eyes were cold and unreadable. My lips were pouty, pale, and puffy. My hair, though healthy and glowing from the best care that money could buy, was still disheveled. The pretty caramel skin that covered my flawless face was flushed red from anguish. Not only did Titus stop loving me. I had stopped loving myself.

Thank God that I had Rhonda’s shoulder to cry on. She listened to me. There were no judgments passed. She was there any time I needed her, lending me her time and support unselfishly, as she had consistently done the entire six years of my marriage.

One thing that was not debatable was that my husband needed a wakeup call – something to get him to recognize that ‘home is where the heart is’, and home was where he was supposed to be. Luther said it best, a house is not a home if there’s no one living there. Titus barely came home long enough to take a piss, much less make this place into a home.

As you can probably tell by now, the streets helped make good on Titus’ promise to be the first one in his family to make it out of the hood. Oh, he made it alright, straight to the top of the line bossing. How did he make it? Let’s just say that he dabbled on the wrong side of the law in pharmaceuticals. Titus, along with his second-in-command, Street Justice, ran the drug operations in practically every hood in east Alabama.

The same streets that keep generations of his family’s spirits broken and in despair would be the same streets that catapulted him to his millionaire status. Once the money started piling up and we were able to live out every dream that we had ever dreamed together, he forgot about me and started running rampant in the streets with Lord-Knows-Who doing Lord-Knows-What. It seemed to have slipped his mind that it was me that had stood by his side when it was all just a pipe dream. Recovering from my trip down memory lane, I was snapped back into the ever so palpable present by Rhonda frantically calling my name.

“Shayla, are you still there? Shay-la!”

“I’m here,” I assured her, twirling my finger around the mouth of my glass.

“Are you going to be okay over there, honey? You’re about to make me put on some clothes, and come over there.”

“You don’t have to come over. I will be all right. Just thinking about how different things would be if my husband….” I stopped mid-sentence because I could not say the words. I could not bring myself to think the thought that my husband didn’t love me anymore. I heard Rhonda sigh with relief as if my tone had assured her that I would be okay alone. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

“If your husband what? You know Titus loves you to death,” Rhonda said begrudgingly.

God knows I loves me some Ronnie, but she has always felt that I should appreciate what Titus does for me more, even though he was never around long enough to give me something to appreciate. I wished that we could three-way in my other sister-from-another-mother, Gladys, because she would be more sensitive to my situation right now. Even though I desperately wanted to talk to her, I was happy for Gladys, because she had found the nerve to runaway for the weekend to Miami, leaving her husband and kids in town. I could only imagine that James, her husband, was losing his mind right about now. I smiled thinking of how brave she was to take off like that.

After receiving an invitation to a masquerade party from her old college buddy, Brenda Jackson, Gladys skipped town without a second thought – leaving her two beautiful children with their up-to-no-good father to fend for themselves. She was my shero for making that move. If only I had the nerve to do something for and about me for once.

At that precise moment, I would have loved to be able to get her pearls of wisdom about my situation, but I smiled with a glimmer of joy, knowing that she was taking the time out to do something just for her. The thought crossed my mind to bust up her vacation with my problems by calling her on three-way anyhow, but then I decided against it. I won’t interrupt her getaway with my issues.

It wasn’t like I had anything new to tell her. Just the same ole, same ole ‘Titus is a runaway’ story.

Gladys’ words rang in my ear as if she were speaking them to me live, “Love it or leave it, honey, but if you love him and want to stay, make sure the situation works out in your best interest.” In other words, if she could be on the phone right now, my girl would be telling me to stash away more cash and find a pretty young thing on the side for some ass.

Gladys’ theory on me staying with Titus was to “get it how I lived.” Meaning, take what he has to offer but make it work for me. Time and time again, she told me to dust myself off and try again, saying, “There are plenty pretty young things out there with plenty love potions to turn that frown upside down, chica,” she would say in her signature way.

On the other hand, in direct contrast to Gladys’s mostly sophisticated businesswoman persona, Rhonda was the ‘realest chick’ you could ever know. Even though she never lived in or near the streets, she was attracted to the street life and thugs. When we were in high school, she lived on the good side of town, yet would always find her way to the Sloan Mill projects. She wanted to hang out with my cousins, and whatever other knuckle heads that were holding down the block, all night until early morning.

All I could do was pray for my girl back then, because if it was some ole’ wannabe gangster stuff that she thought she was getting into, then she was game.

One thing that hadn’t changed after all of these years was that I trusted both of my girls with my life. I knew that no matter what, they always had my best interest at heart in any situation. We had been through a lot together. Since I was no longer really close to my mother or sisters, our friendship was paramount. I would soon learn that ‘trust’ is also the root word of ‘distrust’, and distrust opens up the door to a world of secrets, deceit and mayhem.

Chapter 4

Shayla

As I continued to vent about Mr. MIA on the phone with my best friend, I could hear Rhonda brushing her fingernails up against her nail file. I’d known her long enough to know her habits. She either rolled her hair between her fingers or filed her fingernails when she was in deep thought or trying to help me figure out my mess, so I knew that she was thinking hard. She was just as stressed out as I was.

As far back as I could remember, no matter what Titus did, she had never spoken a bad word about him. She liked his ‘rough around the edges’ style and the bank that he brought in. The fact that he was from the streets was a plus in her book. I knew that his ability to take care of me was something that she admired. She didn’t have to worry about her girl in that respect. Just like she loved me, she loved Titus like a brother, so I knew she wanted to see our marriage survive. That was just how real of a friend she was, wanting the best for me, even though she didn’t have the same in her life.

"Ronnie, love, I guess we did all of this for nothing," I told her, feeling hurt and ashamed, and it showed in my voice. I looked longingly out of the sliding glass doors to the intimately decorated backyard and Jacuzzi area of my two-story Victorian lakeside home, positioned on some of the most prime real estate in Pine Mountains. Ronnie and I had spent hours shopping and preparing the backyard earlier that day. I thanked God for her, because most of the decorations came at her suggestion. The sight was a bit too much for me to digest at that moment, so I turned back around and looked at my gorgeous kitchen to try to get some relief.

Immediately, unwanted memories of my fifth wedding anniversary rushed upon me. Last year, the week before my anniversary, Ronnie and I took a vacation in Maui – just us girls. Upon returning home, I was pleasantly surprised to walk into my house and be welcomed by Titus holding a blindfold.

My husband held me tightly around the waist and led me into my new completely renovated kitchen. Everything was redone with French style décor, including the best stainless steel appliances.

Not believing that this luxurious kitchen could possibly be mine, I walked around turning on the oven and other gadgets. I was so filled with joy that my soft and sentimental butt cried for the next hour as I tested out my new appliances.

Titus knew that I loved to make my way around the kitchen, so the fact that he upgraded it with nothing but the best was the gift of the decade. Needless to say, we had a happy and passion-filled fifth anniversary.

What a difference a year makes.

Jarring me out of my trip down memory lane were Rhonda’s firm words. “Girl, what is the deal? You do know the man is a heavy weight in these streets and is always making major moves, right?”

Before I could answer, she continued, “You do also know he has to be out there to keep things popping like they are? So, don’t stress it when he has to be out there getting money. Shit, I wish I had a nigga like that. It’s either him making the money so that he can bring it home to you, or it can be the next bitch that gets it, because you know he ain’t about to stop making money! He’s probably just handling some business and couldn’t get to you right away, so stop this flipping out every other day.”

Rhonda loudly popped the bubble gum in her mouth, and asked her familiar, yet irritating, question, “Don't you like living on Society Shores?”

"I do, but that doesn't change the fact that I need him to behave like a husband, and treat me like I’m his wife. The way he has me up here, and how he only comes to visit every now and then is more like I’m his mistress.”

And whose side are you on? I thought, but then again, was I asking for too much? Was Rhonda right? I knew in my heart of hearts that I could be a spoiled brat when I wanted to be, but was it asking for too much to get some quality time once a week from my husband?

Dare I even say, I needed some good loving every once in a while? I longed to share a few laughs, dreams, and ideas with the man I loved. I needed him to talk to me about current events for at least thirty minutes per day, even if by phone.

As a woman with emotional, mental, and physical needs, it was a necessity that I reconnect with my husband, and soon. Either that connection had to be established, or he had to set me free. I sure as hell didn’t get married to be lonely, so to hell with a house in Society Shores!

This time I wasn’t taking Ronnie’s advice, nor was I going to ‘get it how I lived’ as my girl, Gladys, had suggested. It was time to push the envelope and let him know how I was to be treated going forward. Or I would get it how I lived another way – without him.

Taking a look around at my worldly possessions, I said in all sincerity, “All bullshit aside, Ronnie, I would give all of this up in a heartbeat if I could have him here with me right now, as caring and loving as he used to be. I’m ready to start a family, engage in long late night conversations about everything and nothing at all, spend hours staring into his eyes for no reason except that I love the glow that lives within them, and go on family trips and vacations. Sometimes when I’m alone in this big house, I can just imagine the little pitter patter of baby feet. I wish…"

I paused, unable to say the words that would cut through my ego like a knife. Glancing at the ceiling, I attempted to ward off more tears.

At that moment, I cursed the fact that I could be so sensitive and needy. What I wouldn’t give to be a hardcore chick that could not only survive, but thrive, in this environment.

"Okay! Okay!” Ronnie broke the awkward silence. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but maybe, just maybe, he’s stuck in Atlanta traffic. He went there today to pick up a gift that he had special ordered for you. You know how he likes to spoil you with extravagant gifts? Well, right now he is out picking you up something in Atlanta. Dang, you feel better?”

My heart lurched with relief. Praise God! As a smile crept slowly across my lips and my eyes grew wide with the realization that I had been wrong all along, I paused. Why would Rhonda let me go through an hour of anguish on the phone when she knew all along where my husband was?

Convincing me by the second of my husband’s faithfulness, Rhonda continued, “After all, it is your finger he put the ring on. So why don’t you just try to trust him?”

Still feeling a bit uneasy, I twirled my hair and sluggishly paced the floor.

"Really, he’s in Atlanta buying me a gift?”

“Girl, yeah, Sistah Word.”

Sistah Word was a saying we had for a statement that was the truth. In other words, what she was saying was one hundred percent.

“I know you were trying to keep the surprise, but you could have saved me a lot of grief by spoiling that one, girl. How could you allow me to wallow around whining on the phone for the last hour when you knew that my husband was out picking up a gift?! I’m beginning to think you enjoy my torment.”

Despite my unease, I had to admit that my mood brightened a bit at the mere thought that Titus was doing something special for me. Smiling, I blew my nose into the big wad of tissue I had been carrying around with me. Through a stuffy nose, I said, “You're right, though, he does spoil me, and of all the women he had to choose from, he did make me Mrs. Wilson.”

I remembered him proposing to me the day I walked across the stage to get my college diploma from Auburn University. When the dean called my name to come up and receive my well-deserved master’s degree in psychology, Titus called my name on a bullhorn. As everyone searched the audience for the source of his voice, along with me, each of his homeboys held up a fluorescent letter that spelled out the words, “MARRY ME SHAYLA”.

After reading the words, our eyes locked, and he stood there on the sidelines with the biggest, cutest grin on his handsome brown face. In his hand he held a black velvet box. All I could think about was running to him. With my heart full and my head swirling, I took the degree papers from the dean and ran over to hug the man I would be spending the rest of my life with. Once I reached him, I said, “Yes… yes… yes! I will marry you if you promise to always love, honor and respect me.”

You see, Daddy’s lessons were still embedded in me, then. I felt like the most special woman in the world when Titus looked into my eyes and said, “Woman, how could I not respect you for your beauty, intelligence, and elevating me to heights no other woman could? I love you, Shayla.” Not only had I received the first college degree in my family, but I had someone special to share my dreams with. He wrapped his arms around me and the warmth of his kiss embraced me.

The quick trip down memory lane reminded me of how much I loved that five-foot-eleven, bow-legged, muscular in all the right places, pretty brown-skinned brother. Dried tears on my cheeks cracked as a genuine smile crept up on my face. I spoke again to my sister.

“You just don’t know, girl. My body craves his touch constantly. I love that man. But the truth of the matter is that he needs to touch me soon, or I cannot and will not be responsible for what happens next!” I laughed.

I took a look around at all of our high-end possessions that I couldn’t make love to, laugh at a funny joke with, or sit beside on the couch to watch a comedy show with on the flat screen TV. Also, when it was all said and done, I couldn’t get any love from the chinchilla coat or Chanel pumps when I was old and in my rocking chair.

There I was married to the biggest baller in town. He was fine and knew his way around the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Yet, of late, I couldn’t get anything to jump off between us. Trust and believe, I had tried everything to get it on and popping, too.

From the assortment of Victoria Secret lingerie, sex creams, flavored panties, and flavored body powder to the swing I had installed in the shower a few weeks ago, I had done everything in my power to set the table for a love feast. However, Mr. Wilson wasn’t available for dinner, apparently.

The whole ordeal had me completely drained. I walked through the kitchen into the den and sat on the plush leather sectional sofa. Its warmth and comfort was to be the only intimacy I’d be receiving tonight apparently. Rhonda seemed to be at a loss for words, so I said, “Girl, last week I was so horny that I thought about getting my creep on. If I didn’t have every eye in town watching me like a hawk, I swear my groove would be back by now. Not saying cheating is what I want, but a woman has needs.”

"Don’t get drastic, Shay. Please don't be thinking about cheating, and please don’t give T a hard time when he gets home, either. From experience, you know that when you stress him out he just stays away longer, which means we have to have more of these conversations. Just give him a chance to explain." Rhonda calmly spoke up in Titus’ defense.

"You always take his side. The man hasn’t so much as called me, Ronnie, and I have hit him on his cell ten times already, and guess what?”

“He didn't answer?”

“Bingo! And this is really getting old." I stretched out on my back on the buttery leather sofa, staring at the ceiling while I held the phone to my ear.

"Yes, but think about the end, when he doesn't have to hustle like this anymore. You’re already living larger than you’d ever imagined. Remember in high school when you said that by thirty you would have a three-story home with a Denali sitting beside the hottest sports car in your four-car garage?”

“Yes, I remember that. I also said that by thirty, me and my perfect hubby would have traveled the world over and would start working on a family. A lot has changed since high school, so that doesn’t have any relevance anymore.”

“Okay, well, you said it yourself that these next few licks could lock the whole game up for good. You'll be able to appreciate those long trips and long hours away from home when your pockets blow up like an atomic bomb. Start a family and travel the world on that! Trust me when I say these other niggas, and bitches too, wish they something going like T.”

If I knew one thing for sure and two things for certain, it was that Rhonda always had a stack full of explanations and could see the good in everything Titus did. It wasn’t just Titus though, she loved everything street.

She would say, "He's a baller. Girl, don't lose your good thing. You should be glad for what he does for you. Don't be worrying that man about that. He's this… he's that…"

Giving that we’d been friends since grade school, I never felt the need to question her judgment. Ronnie was part of the reason I had put up with Titus as long as I had. That and the fact that Titus would probably kill me before he would ever let me go. Plus, to my chagrin, I loved him beyond repair.

"Well, girl, I'm going to let you go. No need in both of us having a depressing Friday night,” I said.

“Imagine that,” Ronnie laughed.

“Whatever, chica. I'm sure you're about to get your club on or get into something fun."

I wished I could get my club on right alongside her, too, but I would never hear the end of it. Titus said it was best that his wifey not be out clubbing – unless I was on his side, of course. He forbade me from going out with friends unless the outing was pre-approved by him. Even then, he would likely send one of his goon heads to follow me for monitoring and safety measures, especially since there had been several shootings recently with the targets being members of his close family. He felt someone was deliberately trying to take out a few of his team members.

Rhonda softened up, saying, "No, actually sweetie, I had a little company earlier, so I'm going to be getting some much needed rest.”

"It was that good, huh? Anyone that can keep ‘Ronnie the Diva’ away from Club Diamond on a Friday night must be the-man-twenty-grand.”

We both laughed at my corny joke. Rhonda began to speak, but I cut her off.

"Let me guess. Is it Curtis Jackson?”

Instead of answering the question, Ronda sighed exhaling a long breath.

I said, “Well, don't be all secretive. Give up the goods, who is he? Do I know him?"

"Let's not get into all that, Miss Thang. I will tell you all about him one day, though. Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I’m tired as hell and got to get my beauty rest for shopping tomorrow," Rhonda said.

"Coo..." I had started to say, “Cool, let’s start our shopping spree at ten,” but the dial tone blaring through the phone stopped me mid-sentence.

I pressed the button to turn off the phone and wondered what could be up with Rhonda. Her sudden shortness was odd, but I didn’t give it a second thought. I had my own problems to deal with, like Mr. Titus and his whereabouts.

Chapter 5

Gladys

It is our sixth month anniversary. I know that I am probably being sentimental and silly – most people only celebrate their yearly anniversaries – but I don’t care. I love this man, and right now, he needs me more than ever. He had been demoted from his position as a manager at J-Plex Department Store last week, and I really want to cheer him up. That is my job as his esposa neuva (his new wife), and I want him to know that I am seriously about my business.

I am standing over the kitchen stove preparing his favorite breakfast. I have dropped rose petals all the way from our bedroom to the kitchen table this morning. I just want his smile back. I only want his easy-going gentleness back. That was what I had fallen in love with about him, after all.

As he finally walks into the kitchen, I am just about to place his freshly prepared turkey sausage on a plate, along with scrambled eggs, grits, and a slice of orange. I have a pitcher of freshly-squeezed orange juice on the table and a single vanilla candle burning as the centerpiece. I absolutely beam with pride when I turn around to face my handsome new husband, smile brightly with love radiating behind my wide eyes, and greet him good morning.

“Good morning, papi! I know you have to be at work in about an hour, but I have cooked some of your favorites. I was hoping that you would have a few minutes, so that we could talk about what has been bothering you, baby.” I give him my warmest concerned look and poke my bottom lip out at him, trying to be as cute as possible.

James snatches the plate from me. My facial expression drops. I’m confused. He seems angry. ¿Pero, porque? Why? Seemingly emotionless, he slams it down onto the table, causing the grits to jump and spill over the side and the table. I stare at that huge splotch of grits, and as they sink in deeper to my good tablecloth and spread, I can feel the fear and sadness doing the same within my own heart. “Talk, huh? Well, let’s talk about the fact that you’re fixing me this bullshit to eat for breakfast. Do I look like some kind of dog to you?” Spit flies from his lips as he bellows at me.

In shock, I take a step back. He has to be joking. I lift my eyes from the table and search within his to try and find a trace of humor lurking there. No, he was definitely not joking. The look on his face was somber and grim. His eyes look dead and flat. This is a look that is unfamiliar to me. I am still confused. Flustered, I answer, “No, James, and you know I don’t think you are a dog. I… I was just trying to … Why would you ask me a question like that?”

“Because, Gladys,” He spat my name as though it were acid on his tongue. “You’re fixing some shit that looks like dog food, bitch! I know you think you’re better than me because you’ve got your little job as a world-renowned software consultant, but I’m nobody’s dog!” As he shouts at me, he takes steps closer and closer until our noses are an inch apart. I can smell the Cool Mint Listerine on his breath, and the Cool Water Cologne on his neck, but his temper is anything but cool. Did he just call me a puta? No one in my entire life had ever called me that. I must have heard him wrong. I had to have. I mentally curse the day I had told him about my promotion. Ever since, he has been in a pissy mood, but then his demotion had come at the absolute worst time. His mood has completely gone down the toilet.

I don’t recognize mi esposa, my husband, at all. The expression on his face makes him look as though he is possessed by Lucifer, or el Diablo, himself. I can’t pretend to be strong. His attitude completely takes me off guard, after I spent all morning thinking that he would be thrilled with all of my hard work. I had imagined that he would sweep me up off of my feet, swing me around the kitchen, and maybe even take me right here on the dining table. Instead, here I was, face to face with the beast I had never known resided within him.

A flame of fear travels through my bones, and I shake uncontrollably. The fright was so overwhelming that I almost gag. “What the fuck are you giggling about, Gladys? Got-dammit, you Spanish whore, you think I’m a fuckin’ joke?”

“Oh my god, James, I wasn’t laughing at you. I… I… I don’t know what has gotten into you this morning, but you need to…” WHOP! The next thing I know, I am half-way across the room holding my left cheek, which is screaming in excruciating pain. My back also hurts like hell from the violent contact I had experienced with the corner of the countertop on my way to the ground.

“Don’t you ever tell me what you think I need to do, Gladys! I’m a man! I do what I want to do.”

I quickly follow James with my shocked eyes, trying to ensure that he doesn’t come any closer. Who is this monster that has taken over my James’ body and mind? I look up at the stranger in total disbelief. He had never so much as raised his hand to me in the entire two years that I had known him.

Hurt to the core, my heart bleeding twice as heavy as my face, I find the strength to ask, “James, how… how could you dare hit me!? What has gotten into you?” I manage to croak out in between sobs. I sit here too emotionally paralyzed to move. The fact that my dear esposo has just physically abused me is not registering. There is no way that I am a battered woman, like some of the other women I’ve always talked about. I had always felt sorry for those women who couldn’t be strong enough to leave those horrible husbands. I had always thought them weak and much more vulnerable than me. Es muy imposible’! No freaking way was I about to accept the title of being a victim of domestic violence!

James storms out of the room hollering, “What has gotten into me, you ask? No senorita! It is what is about to get into you.” I am relieved that he is no longer in the same room with me. Maybe he would just storm out and leave me here alone to nurse my wounds.

No such luck. After hearing him scrambling through our bedroom closet, I cringe as he returns, walking briskly toward me. I am still sitting on the floor, curled up in a fetal position crying. I am trying to melt into the wall. I am trying to disappear into the corner. I am trying to make myself invisible, so that I won’t have to face him again. I don’t know who this bruised and bleeding shell of a woman is, holding onto her elbows and rocking back and forth. I hear her mewling cries. I cry for the pain I am feeling – inside and out. I cry for the loss of the marriage that I had once dreamed about. I cry for the loss of the ideal I had once had of my loving husband.

“You are about to learn some respect, woman.” The calmness in his voice inspires even more fear than his outraged yelling had. It is then that I realize that he has his thick pledge belt from college wrapped around his hand, as if he is about to break in a rookie frat brother. When his real intentions dawn on me, I plead with him for mercy. I forget my pride. I forget my proud Spanish upbringing. Briefly, visions of my father lecturing me when I was a little girl about having respect for myself so that others will respect me float to my thoughts, but the seriousness of the situation at hand push them away. I swallow all of my self-respect as I hold my hands out to him and beg for my life.

“No! James, please no!” I scream at the top of my lungs, or at least it seems to me as if I am screaming loud, but only hoarse whispered squeals are heard. I do so with all of the breath that I have left in my body. As the belt swings in a wide arc over his head, I cry out, hoping to touch any tender spot left in James’ heart. It makes its way closer to my body, and I whisper helplessly, “Please… don’t hit me again...”

After only six measly months of marriage, my matrimonial bliss had turned into a den for the devil’s work to be done. It seemed the only thing that James had going for him were the three “A’s”: anger, aggression, and adultery. If people knew what I was going through behind the expensively designed doors of our home, they would think I was gullible and naïve for falling in love with someone like him in the first place.

In actuality, he used to love me so tenderly and show me the utmost respect. He always put me first, and mi familia loved him enough to put up every dime for our wedding. It was extra money that they did not have. How could I go back to mi padre and tell him that the twenty thousand he took from his hard-earned retirement account was in vain, because the man that I married was beating me senseless? I wouldn’t be his prized princesa bonita anymore. I would be a disgrace to mi familia. My father would disown me. I couldn’t bear to think of the look on his rugged, hardworking face if he would ever find out.

Even though since that first beating, James’ modus operandi usually was to verbally attack me, intimidating me into a shivering heap of tears so badly that he didn’t even have to beat me in order to get me to submit to whatever he wanted me to, he certainly was not above putting his hands on me. I’d lived through the worst of it for the past six years with James – the absolute worst. We kept up a good public face, though. To see us out and about, you would think that we were just as in love as we were in college. I hadn’t even told my best friend about what was happening to me.

I am the type of woman that doesn’t keep too many friends around me. Especially since James had lost his mind, I preferred to have the least amount of prying ears and eyes in the vicinity as possible. The only two women aside from my family that I kept in close contact with were Shayla and Rhonda, from high school. Well, if I am being honest, there was only really one that I trusted – mi mejor amiga (or my best friend) Shayla. Rhonda was the third-wheel to our duo, and I trusted her as far as I could toss her. She’d always been somewhat selfish and conceited, as far as I was concerned. I stayed friends with her more because Shayla like her so much than my own personal preferences.

It was obvious that Rhonda felt somewhat the same about me. We were kind of like ‘frenemies’, you know – friendly enemies? I couldn’t remember a specific moment when she was truly there for me, in a best-girlfriend-who-I-would-do-anything-for kind of way. I could rattle off several times, in the last month, that Shayla had come through. And yet, the shame and the disgrace of my situation still would not allow me to reveal everything to her. One day, maybe.

I took a long look at the gold-encrusted special invite to Brenda Jackson's 2009 Grown and Sexy Masquerade Ball in Miami, Florida. It had been a minute since I'd seen my old college classmate, so I wondered how she had found my contact information to have the party planning company personally deliver an invite to my job. This woman was amazing! She’d single-handedly planned a weekend reunion getaway for the graduates of the African American studies program at Albany State, class of 2002. I was too ready to reconnect with some of my old friends. To top the reunion off, Brenda had even managed to hook me up with two freebie nights at the hotel resort. What do you have up your sleeve, Brenda? I thought, Man, I hope it’s good!

I wondered what the weekend had in store for me, but knowing Brenda, it could be anything. Something wild and crazy would be just what the doctor ordered after the grief that James had been putting me through. As far back as I could remember, she had been the life of the party. Brenda also knew how to be a good host of a great party, too. In college, it wasn’t enough for her to be on the cheerleading squad. No! She was the head of the Honor Society, Ambassador to the United States for the Culture Team America, track star, volleyball star, Spanish Honor Society President, and President of the African-American Study Club. African-American studies was my minor, so I was blessed to meet such a dynamic soul while I was there.

This invitation meant more to me than just some time to let loose and get buck wild. It was a much needed time to get away from all of the madness at home and clear my head. Almost to Miami, I changed lanes, switching over to the side of traffic that was moving the fastest. I breezed down the highway, anxious to get my weekend kicked off. I couldn’t wait to reach my hotel and spend the next two days in another town far away from any miserable tracings of my marriage. For just a hot second, I thought about James and how he must have felt when he came home from work to find my Oh-by-the-way-I’ll-see-you-on-Monday letter. I would have paid good money to see the look on his face when Mother brought the kids home at six.

“Ha! I wonder how he liked them apples!” I laughed, imagining all of the different faces and bellowing screams he undoubtedly expressed upon getting the news of my unplanned disappearing act. He’d probably soiled his pants once I called and confirmed that it was not all just some silly joke.    The truth was that I should have been the one acting the fool, considering the email message I received last Sunday morning from an anonymous woman claiming to have a special relationship with my husband. It just so happens that last weekend he had a conference to attend for work, so he said. It was enough that I put up with his abuse, but to have to receive messages like this from his little sideshow women was just too much. I’d be damned if I would endure his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality at home, only to be boldly confronted by one of the skeezers I knew he was keeping around town. If he needed a punching bag this weekend, he could take out his aggression on “his woman.” I won’t even attempt to explain the childish message from the woman, or the meaning within, but it came from a hiswoman@tmail.com email address.

Dear Gladys,

Last weekend was absolutely amazing! Saturday, me and James got up and got dressed, then went to the mall for like, two hours. I shopped until I got too tired to swipe his black Visa, and then we went to Target and I'm pretty sure we found some stuff we’re going to decorate our new house with. Oh yeah, he’s leaving you honey, and we are starting a life together, so take this note as a heads up and get ready. On the way home, we stopped and ate at that Mexican restaurant you love so much, which was so freaking delicious. The whole day – including us playing tennis for four hours in total, two hours before we left and two when we got back – was beautiful. Then, when night fell, we went to a foam dance, and we beat the breaks off of all the other people there. Who would have known I would ever dance in foam completely topless with nothing on but some itsy bitsy little shorts? It was very fun. And James, let me not mention that James had no shirt on either during the dance.

Mmmm, he is fucking sexy, and I love making love to him, every minute of it. You can only wish that you could have been me and have as much fun as we did. Yes, me and your husband had fun, but you won’t be holding the “wifey” title for long. Yes, he has told me that he plans to leave you soon, but is waiting for the best time for the children. He loves those children to death, and I can’t blame him for that, I love them too! But you, honey, I don’t see how you put up with what he does to you. Hmph, damn shame… But I guess that’s what happens when you force a man to stay with you out of pity when you know that he doesn’t even love you any more, right?

This morning, I woke up in his arms, again. I live for the weekends and spending time with him. He loves spending time with me, so it’s obvious I’ve got something that you don’t. Oh, we are about to go eat, play some more tennis, then who knows. Life is good. You can email me back, but I doubt I'll answer! James and I will be out enjoying our time together. I love James LaQuinn,  so move over bitch!

Forever His Woman

I had let her words sink in after re-reading them over and over again. Why was James staying with me for so long? Could it really be because he pitied me? It couldn’t just be because of the children. Men don’t stay with women for six long years just because of the children. They’re too selfish. Why could he just leave me be and let me go?

Just thinking about that woman’s message, Dr. Phil’s wise words resounded in my mind, “In order for people to start taking you serious, you have to first take yourself serious.” It reminded me of my father’s words so long ago. It’s not that I was conditioned to believe a bogus, unidentifiable woman who was so chicken shit that she had to step to me over an email instead of in person, but James didn’t give me much hope for our marriage to hold onto, either. Between his violent temper towards me, his unexplained time away from home, and his lies, I couldn’t do anything but believe this whore’s story. It’s funny how we know the right things to do in life, but either choose not to, or are too afraid to put what we know into action.

With that in mind, I decided to show James instead of tell him that I was capable of living my life without dealing with his abrasiveness and cheating behavior. And I was starting with this weekend away from home. Throwing caution to the wind and allowing the wind to move me closer to Miami, I was hyped to do something for me – live life – if only for a few days before I returned to the slow agonizing death that was my marriage.

I wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him at this point, but I knew one thing was for sure – I wasn’t going to deal with it this weekend. A good friend once told me, "Gladys, you either get busy living, or get busy dying." It's funny how things work themselves out, but for the rest of my life this weekend would often be remembered as the beginning of the era that my life began. What began as a single weekend to regroup would soon turn into frequent trips to refresh my mind, body, and soul in the beautiful city of Miami.

Chapter 6

Rhonda

I hung up the phone with Shayla and decided to indulge in round two with the fine specimen that rested quietly under my pink satin sheets, sleeping like a baby. Leaving my lacy red two-piece lingerie ensemble on the bedroom floor, I headed for a quick shower. After showering with my favorite vanilla shower gel and softening my mocha skin with a delicate lotion, I headed back into the bedroom and eased over to the bed exuding the sensuality of a lioness. I massaged my sleeping companion’s muscular body, starting at his chest and working down to his feet. A broad naughty smile spread across my face as he stirred about in the bed.

His lower midsection responded just like I thought it would. No man could resist the power of my touch. When his eyes opened and a smile slowly crept upon his lips, I damn near exploded with thoughts of our early evening escapade. God, I love this man!

Akin to an act of nature, he reached up and cupped my breasts, one in each hand. I could feel the heat radiating from his touch. The moment was perfect, until he spoke the untimely words that broke the mood.

"What time is it, Ronnie? I gotta get going.”

I responded in a feline whisper into his Burberry-scented, chocolate brown earlobe. "Time for round two."

His manhood came to a peak under the silken sheets, letting me know I had his full attention. I lay next to him on my back and gently took his right hand into mine, guiding it to the abyss of wetness between my thighs. I needed him to feel the pleasures that awaited him there. I would give my last dime for him to fill the void in between my thighs forever.

His face followed the wetness, and he said, “Mmmmm. I see lil’ mama still wet for Daddy,” as he flickered his tongue across my swollen lips before inserting his tongue deep into my love.

“You tastin’ good, too,” he murmured softly.

I felt the brink of an orgasmic wave coming down when he abruptly stopped his tongue tease and smacked me hard on the thigh.

“What you stop for?” I asked caught between a tailspin and a hard place. I needed the feeling he was about to give me more than I needed air to breathe.

“I gotta go. I got business to take care of.”

Business? He couldn’t be serious. He was already taking care of business, and he needed to get back to the issue at hand. Instead of flipping out like I wanted to, I did the only thing I thought would make him stay. I begged.

“Please, baby. Just stay a little while longer. Make love to me one more time. I want to feel you one more time tonight. I need to know that you care. Please stay. I love you.”

Much to my dismay, he ignored my pleas, fidgeted around the floor until he found his pants, and retrieved his cell phone out of his pocket.

“I was just teasing with ya’ ass. You know how I do,” he said flippantly, as he opened his cell phone case. “Fourteen missed calls?! Shit!” He jumped up. "You were supposed to wake me up at eight. What the fuck… ? It‘s 9:45!”

Before I could respond, he had gathered his clothes off the floor and was closing the bathroom door behind him. I knew that he had to leave and why, which is exactly why I intentionally let him oversleep in the first place. Though Titus had not informed me about his plans for a romantic evening with Shayla, I knew all about their little plans. It was supposed to be a special night for my best friend and her husband, yet he had spent most of the night with me. Earlier that day, I helped Shayla’s pathetic ass shop for their dinner, candles, negligee, and the whole nine yards. It was actually quite funny shopping with her, knowing the whole while that I would be the one getting the true prize – his time.

As soon as Shayla filled me in on the fact that she had planned to rekindle something special with Titus, I had to infiltrate. If I had anything to do with it, that would never happen. I laughed maniacally at the thought. Shayla, rekindling a romance with a man that rightfully belonged to me? That would be a negative.

Just minutes ago, Shayla had been on the phone pouring her sweet little heart out about Titus when all along I was the reason she was home alone. She was probably at home right now, making the difficult choice of which vibrator to use, and I could care less about whether she was fucking the pink rabbit or the Mocha Chocolate dildo tonight. I helped her ‘need some love’ butt pick them both out. I swear, she could be so pathetic.

If years of friendship went down the drain over Titus, then so be it. I loved him with all that I had in me to love. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Shayla like a sister, but the love that I had for Titus was second to none. I felt like vomiting in my throat every time I watched him cater to that bitch. The concern and care that Titus displayed for Shayla, ‘his wifey’, was sickening. More importantly, his affections belonged to me! And it was high time he figured that tidbit out.

A gangster needs a down ass bitch on his team, not some whiny ass wife that was always talking about her feelings and shit. In a world that was so cold, all that feelings could get you were a wet pussy and a broken heart, or even worse… dead. So, fuck a feeling.

I hated standing around in the background and getting the leftover scraps, but I gave in to the understanding that having part of him was better than nothing at all.

“I want you – all or nothing, right now, Titus!” I directed the words toward the bathroom door, knowing he couldn’t hear me with the shower running. He would never agree to leaving her, anyway. Yet, he deserved so much more. Only a woman who has been in my position could understand the frustration that you feel, knowing that he has this deep and inexplicable love for someone else when you’re the one that can give him everything he needs.

All through high school, the boys I had crushes on always seemed to pursue Shayla because of her flawless light skin and naturally curly hair. She had that Halle Berry look – a beauty from birth. I’ll admit that she flaunted it well.

Though we were thick as thieves, a tiny part of me envied the fact that she could attract any guy she wanted just by walking in the room. That envy festered within the pit of my soul until I acted upon it by fucking the one person she loved, Titus. It wasn’t like he was the first one of Shayla’s boyfriends that I had crept with. In the 11th grade, I broke off a boy she was calling herself liking – preppy ass Carlton Levette – with a little sum’n sum’n right under the bleachers during the homecoming game.

While Shayla was on the field performing her halftime routine, Carlton brought on his A-game performance, getting his groove on right on top of me.

Having Carlton scream out my name, “Ronnie… Oh, Ronnie!” right there in the middle of the game was the most gratifying experience I had ever had at that point in my young life. It was my way of proving that I could outdo Shayla, even if it was just by out-sexing her man.

I wanted a piece of Shayla’s world, so I took it. I used what I had to get what I wanted. It was as simple as that. I did what I had to do, knowing that once Carlton and Titus got a taste of a real woman, they would be hooked.

But I wasn’t satisfied with just creeping with Titus. Today was our anniversary – two years since the first time we took our friendship to the next level. I’d have been damned if I was going to wake him up to go home to his wife tonight to lay in a scented Jacuzzi, sip champagne and make love to her.

Besides me being second to Shayla in her presence, my baby had been good to me over the last two years. He told me that as long as I kept our rendezvous our little secret, he would keep my pockets lined and my bed warm. That was a happy arrangement for me, until now. My feelings had grown, like it or not. Now, I wanted more.

Unlike Shayla, I gave Titus what he needed in a woman, and in return, he made sure that I was well taken care of with money. My man bought me anything my pretty little head could dream up. Of course, I didn’t have the seventy-five-hundred square foot Victorian home, my choice of luxury cars, and the black Visas that Shayla had the luxury of possessing. I also doubted very seriously that he stood around bitching and trembling over missing my calls, either. But, as far as I was concerned, those things were about to change real soon.

Chapter 7

Titus

Within five minutes, I had showered and was fully dressed. Standing in front of Ronnie, I was hotter than a fire cracker with her sexy ass. I wanted to slap the taste out of her mouth, but against my vengeful judgment I decided to let her slide for not waking me up on time. I knew that beneath her hard exterior, she was just in puppy love with a nigga, man. She tried to play hard like some kind of Gangsta Boo all the time, but her feelings were wrapped all up in this so-called relationship. I guess one could call it a relationship of sorts, and having another one was exactly what I didn’t need to be doing right now. To me, our little fling was something to do – for fun, not a love connection. In the beginning, she said she felt the same way, but I knew better. I’ve been in the game too long to believe that.

I pulled out a stack of cash and left it on her nightstand. I yanked her close to me, wrapping my arms around her tight enough to let her know she was fucking with a real nigga, and squeezed that ass one more time before I left.

“Keep that thang tight for me, Ronnie. I don’t want to hear about you and another nigga over here fucking around. I’m the only one that can hit that, so don’t make me catch a case.” I smacked her hard on the ass and said, “I’ma holla at you later in the week.”

Opening the door to her bedroom, I hurried toward the front door, but not before telling her, "Even though what you pulled was foul, I left a little something for you to shop with on your nightstand.”

If Rhonda was any of my other women, I swear that I would have slapped her silly ass serious for not waking me up on time, especially since her brain dead ass had no excuse for not doing like she was told. There are two things I don’t deal well with: discrepancies with my time or discrepancies with my money. I didn’t ask my women to do nothing but shop, look sexy at all times, and do whatever the fuck I told them to do.

I seriously thought about administering that thorough backhand, over-the-shoulder, pimp slap to Rhonda’s pretty little jaw for disobeying me; however, one thing I learned early in the game was to always respect my inner circle. Those are the people that truly have my back, and Ronnie was definitely down for whatever. Therefore, I did not put my hands on her out of respect, but she was really beginning to test a real nigga like T. Rhonda, and especially Shayla, had been lucky to not be privy to my wrath, but when other tricks got foul they were straight up casualties of war, man let me tell you. Check my dental records. Titus Wilson don’t play the radio!

Man, I feel like shit for letting Shayla down again, I thought as I turned the front door handle. That’s when I felt Rhonda’s soft hand grab my arm jerking me back around to face her.

"Are you sure you can't just stay, babe?” she spoke softly, tears rolling down her face. She sounded damn near pathetic. “You can keep the money,” she continued her dramatics. “I just want you with me. It feels so right when we’re together. You don't have to go running home to Shayla all the time."

I could tell by the look on her face that Rhonda was speaking more out of desperation than wanting me to stay, and I didn’t have time for her games. She had this rivalry thing going with Shayla that I didn’t think was cute or effective.

"You know I can't do that,” I told her, raising an eyebrow, hoping she would get the picture fast. I checked my Rolex, and it read fifteen-after-ten. I really didn’t have time for her titty-baby shit tonight.

“You can do what you want, Titus, and we both know that.” She walked closer to me, put her arms around my neck, and looked into my eyes, giving me that bedroom look that I loved to see on her. It was cute, but again, not effective enough to keep me from getting home to my wife after I’d promised her I would be there. I maneuvered her arms from around my neck and stepped back.

“I don't know why you always try to play dumb when you know what the deal is.”

“Let’s change the deal, then. It can be me and you.”

Aw shit, I thought. She thought she was about to get me caught up in another hour of this whining, and I didn’t have time for the boo boo. “Look, little mama, I'm a married man, remember? I’m your best friend’s husband, not yours. It's bad enough I got to deal with her when I get home. I ain’t got time for this.”

“But Titus…” she attempted to put her arms back around my neck, but I blocked her this time and placed her arms back at her sides.

“No, ‘but Titus’. It is what it is. I don’t have time to run down your role to you again. Time is money, remember? Do you want to be the cause of a nigga like T losing money?”

She shook her pathetic head from side to side, and I continued, “Then keep your damn hands off of me! I got to go."

My temper was about to get the best of me. As each second passed, Ronnie was looking more and more like a bugaboo, almost like one of those nagging tricks that I had to pop with a few licks a time or two. Why is it that a jumpoff always forgets that she’s just a jumpoff?  Ronnie should have been thrilled that she was given as much time, attention, and respect as she was getting. Instead, she wasn’t satisfied and was trying to play a nigga to get more. She must’ve forgotten who she was dealing with for a minute.

“You know the game, Ronnie. Respect the rules, and you will be okay with this,” I said, turning back around to open the door. I was giving her another chance to redeem herself and be the woman I needed her to be. I didn’t even look in her direction to gauge her response and allow her to disappoint me. I had to get home.

She screamed, "Since you want to treat me like I’m a jump off, then why weren’t you at home with your little ‘wifey’ earlier tonight sipping champagne, laying in the Jacuzzi, and eating the gourmet meal that her pathetic ass slaved over the stove all evening preparing?!”

I rubbed my eyes in anguish. A part of me told me to just walk on through the door that I had open by now and go home, but the other part of me knew I had to have gotten this conversation twisted. Was Rhonda seriously stepping to me with some bullshit?

When I didn’t respond, she continued, this time sounding even bolder, because I was stuck in a stupor. “If you had been home, then maybe she wouldn’t have been on the phone with me just a few minutes ago, crying her weak little heart out. Seems to me like she’s been downgraded to the jump off, so let’s just keep it real here!”

Oh, so this bitch had played me by not waking me up on purpose. “What did you just say?” I wanted to hear it again. I had to be sure I wasn’t mistaken. Preparing for her to repeat her verbal assault, I bit down on my lip, hands folding into a knot, and I was ready to punch a hole in something. I had to hear her say the words again, though. Surely, I had gotten it wrong the first time, because Ronnie had seen me in action and knew not to disrespect a real nigga like T.

“Oh, you heard me right, nigga! I don't know why you bother with her weak ass, anyway. She’s weak as well water, always whining and crying about you. You should hear her. I’m getting tired of listening to her shit, myself. Just look at what you give up every time you go running to her. I’m fame, and Shayla, while she’s as sweet as she wants to be, is lame. Today, you moaned and screamed my name and told me you never wanted to leave me. Tonight, you have to make a choice between me or her.”

Not realizing that she had just hurdled past the point of no return, Ronnie held her arms out to show off her shapely thighs and copious hips. All the while my mind was traveling to a place that she didn’t really want me to go. She had the nerve to roll her tongue suggestively.

“She can't turn you out like I can, Titus. She don’t even know how to do it like this. I’m the one that has you weak in the knees about to overdose on this loving each and every time you get it. We just match like peas and butter, baby. You have all you need in a woman right here, so why even keep her around?” She covered her mouth as if in shock and said, "Oh yeah, that's right, you obviously don’t need her.”

Laughing uncontrollably, Ronnie added, “You haven’t touched your ‘little wifey’ in so long that she has cobwebs growing between her legs, don’t she? She’s wore out so many vibrators that they are about to start using her for their commercials.”

I just stood there allowing her to go as far as she was comfortable going. That was the problem; she was getting too comfortable with me. Her laugh became more wicked, and her volume increased even more as she spoke.

I might have been cheating, but I loved my wife. So, friend or no friend, I didn’t like hearing Rhonda disrespect her like that. Plus, this new boldness Rhonda had flowing through her veins tonight was making me nervous.

By this time, she had walked over to her coffee table and retrieved a cigarette from her purse. She started back on her roll, yapping and pacing the floor, “You don’t have to say anything, boo.” She puffed on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke and her words together. “I know. She calls me constantly whining about her sexless life, trying to figure out what‘s the latest and greatest in dildos and vibrators."

The next few moments flashed by with record speed. One moment, Rhonda was standing there, nearly out of breath. Holding her cigarette, she was cracking up, wheezing and laughing her butt off before she got a full understanding of the insufficient checks her mouth had already written that her butt couldn’t pay. Man, I had caught a case of temporary insanity up in her apartment looking at her act a fool and disrespect me and my wife, as if she was the noble one.

In the next moment, I had closed the space between us and was taking a withdrawal out of that ass before I even knew what was happening. One hand was wrapped around her throat tightly, and her face was being slapped from side to side repeatedly with my free hand. It was almost like I was not the one beating her ass. I felt like a bystander watching the assault from the sidelines.

She fell back onto the couch, and I came with her, still holding her neck and slapping her face in between my words. “What’s fu… funny now? I’m sure you can squeeze one more joke out of that smart ass mouth of yours. Sure you can. Go ahead – talk.”

“T….T…itus!” she attempted to speak, but the hold I had on her jaw wouldn’t let the words escape.

“You’re hur…ting mmmmeeee… ,” she managed to squeeze through the gurgling sound coming up from her throat. What the fuck did she think I was trying to do, make her feel good? Talking that dumb shit made me tighten my grip, and then I snapped on her dumbass.

"I told you that Shayla is off limits, and if you ever speak my wife’s name again you will live the rest of your life with a speech impediment. Just let me catch one feeling that you’ve told Shayla anything out of the way, and you will hate the day you ever 'turned me out.' Right, and if anybody's turned out it's you. You think you got the only hot pussy in town? I can have any woman out there. I only messed with you to prove that you were scandalous. I kept coming back because I know one thing for sure, and that is that you won‘t tell anyone about us – especially since Shayla is supposed to be your best friend. You really are a freaking slut! Other than that… naw, there is no other than that. You are nothing more than a good suck and fuck, and don’t you ever let me have to run your role down again.”

Subconsciously, I tightened the grip on her neck even more. Man, I didn’t want to kill her, but my killer instinct was at the brink. I could see her gurgling and foaming at the mouth, and the color starting to leave her dark skin. I should’ve let go, but I was in that zone that she never should have taken me to. It was execution time. Fuck it, somebody call the coroner.

"I don’t know why you insist on bringing the beast out of me tonight. If I told you once, woman, I’ve told you a million times. Recognize your role and play it, because as you can see this here can get deadly in the blink of an eye. ”

As she went limp, the exasperation in her reddened eyes jarred me back to reality. I quickly released her neck from my clutch. She immediately fell off of the sofa onto the floor like a rag doll. I just stood there watching her gasp for air until the color returned to her face. I almost felt bad for what I did, but quickly reverted to street principle # 79 – “Act like a lady, and you get treated like a lady. Run up, and get done up.” It’s hard but fair.

I lightened my mood just a little bit and as sincerely as I could muster up said, “Listen, you will never have it like Shayla, and that’s a fact that you need to get used to. Playing with my livelihood, toying with my emotions is making the mistake of forcing me to show you just how real this here can get. You know me well enough to know that you chose the wrong one to try to man handle. Act like a lady, and you’ll get treated like a lady.”

Rhonda lay on the floor gasping for air, looking like a fool, which served her right. She wanted to be a gangster’s bitch. She wanted to be hard. She might as well take her hard knocks like a gangster’s bitch. I’m Titus-to-the-motherfucking-Wilson. I saw her try to rise to her feet but fall back down to the floor. I walked down her hall and back into the bedroom, picked up the money I’d placed on the nightstand earlier, and put it back in my pocket. Until she got her act together, she would not be living on my dime. Just before I closed the front door behind me, I heard her say, barely above a whisper, “How could you do this to me, Titus? I thought you loved me.”

I didn’t know how she thought I loved her. I never told her I loved her. Sure, I spent a lot of time with her, but I never told her I loved her. It was time for me to let Rhonda know that she really didn't come first in my life. Truth be told, I had been too soft on her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was something about messing around with my wife’s best friend that had me a little open.

Forget that, let me keep it real for a second. Rhonda had me open. The sneakiness that was involved with our fling made experiences with her erotic as hell, plus she really cared and looked out for a nigga, man. That alone had me feeling a certain kind of way for her.

All of the nights that I would come home to find the wife and Rhonda both at the house to greet me had finally piqued my interest of getting into her bed. I would have suggested a threesome, but I didn’t know how Shayla would take to the idea, so I opted against even going there. It had indeed been a good ride, and turn me out? Though I wouldn’t admit it to her, she did that. She had me paying all of her bills and spending mad time with her, all the while neglecting Shayla for two whole years off and on – mostly on. But Rhonda's jealousy and disrespect for the game we chose to play closed that door just as quickly as it had been opened. She was right about one thing; it was time that I tended to the wife. To do that, I had to let Rhonda go.

“I’m going to miss that good loving though,” I said to myself while getting into my car. She had me gone the first time she licked my asshole. I mean, what kind of woman licks a man’s asshole, for real!? A freak, that’s who! “Damn, that girl can do some things.”

Anything I would suggest, she would just be down with it like it was the way life was supposed to be. On the other hand, my sweet, tender, and loving Shayla was too precious for all of that. I made sweet, tender love to Shayla. Wifey brought out a different energy from me that inspired me to explore her body in different ways than I did with any of my other women. When I got into it with Shayla, it was like I would just melt right into her sweet pussy. I would try to dive in and come out the other side of that thing when I was making love to her. All the veins in my damn forehead would come to the surface, my arms would be shaking, trying to hold me up, and the magic stick would be as rigid as a fuckin’ flagpole.

One love-making session with her, and she would have me ready to give up the whole street game and settle down in between her legs forever. She had that make-me power over me that inspired me to not only give her the best, but to be a better man. That was why I married her, but also why I spent so much time away from her. I wasn’t ready to be a square – cooking meals, painting walls, watching the Home Makeover channel on TV, and eating ice cream sandwiches as the highlight of my day.

Since I’d made it down the aisle with Shayla, I’d been running from the lockdown ever since. For one, I was afraid of the hold she had on me. Afraid I would turn into some random sap, making love and shit all the time. In my line of work, I had to keep it gangster by any means necessary. The streets would eat me alive on some love bullshit. For two, I wasn’t sure I could dismiss the fact that I liked to be out there doing it big, being “the man” to females left and right, getting money left and right, and women jockin’ on me – you know the rest, left and right. I wanted all of that, but I also wanted the security I could only get from my wife. Picking up my phone, I made a quick call home, but got the voicemail.

“Shayla, baby, I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been tied up at my main spot handling a discrepancy all evening. I’m on my way home now, babygirl. I love you.” I said a prayer that she would receive my message before I got there and not be too upset. The altercation with Rhonda was almost entirely tossed to the back of my mind at the moment. I had bigger fish to fry. I looked at the debonair nigga staring back at me in the rearview mirror, and said, “Pimpin’ ain’t easy.”

Chapter  8

Gladys

“If my cell phone rings again, I don’t know what I’m going to do!” I had already gotten a couple of calls from Rhonda the night before, back to back, but I had let them go to voicemail. Her messages sounded as though she was upset, maybe even crying, but I knew that if she had called me, she had also called Shayla. If it was serious, Shayla would be able to go to her a lot faster than I could in Florida. To be honest, if it was some more drama about her family, her latest fling, or some other bullshit that I really didn’t care about, I didn’t want to have to listen to it while I was on my vacation.

I was too ready to get my mini-vacation kicked off, but the constant ringing of my phone jarred my mind back to my disgruntled husband at home and everything I had going on at work, as well. I began to question whether or not I had faxed the last part of my firms’ contractual agreement to Nordec University Hospital. We were slated to go live providing documentation services to Nordec, one of the largest medical facilities in the United States, and I just so happened to be the consultant responsible for making it happen. The thought of not completing one minute detail to get this account kicked off properly was almost strong enough to make me want to check the caller ID and answer the call immediately. The mere chance that I might have dropped the ball on any part of this deal made me cringe. I was one-hundred-percent flawless when it came to executing plans and wheeling business deals. However, lately with all of the shit James had been putting me through at home, I’d been slipping hard at work.

A month ago, he found himself out of work yet again, and with him always at home riding me about one thing or the next when I got home, suddenly my career had found itself riding on the line with this Nordec account. I could sink or swim with this million-dollar client. If I swam, I would be swimming with the big fish and rolling in the pay dirt. On the other hand, if I sank, I’d be in the unemployment line and hitting soup kitchens up within the blink of an eye. All of the stressors that I was dealing with at work and home had burned me out, so I was looking forward to this weekend alone to rejuvenate my mind, body and soul and put me back on the upswing. We all need time to clear our heads sometimes.

Pardon me folks, where are my manners? Let me officially introduce myself. I’m Gladys LaQuinn, a business savvy, twenty-eight-year-old, God-fearing, Spanish chica from el corazón de Caracas, Venezuela. I moved to America with my family when I was fourteen in search of endless American possibilities. Therefore, I have the benefit of speaking both Spanish and English. I’m the proud mother of two beautiful little niňos that are my sunrise and sunset.

Unfortunately, you already know that I’m also the wife of a…. well, we will get back to his trifling tail in just a minute.

Professionally, I’m a kick butt senior software consultant for Naytek Corporation, a Fortune 500 medical documentation firm. The complete contrast in how powerful I felt in my career and how helpless I felt in my home life does not escape me. Currently I live in Valley, Alabama in a nice custom built four-bedroom brick home. I commute daily to Naytek’s thirty-story office building positioned in the middle of the bustling downtown Atlanta. Although my salary does provide for me to live in any one of the best communities in Atlanta, I choose to commute to the smaller, modest community of Valley, because I’ve always enjoyed the countryside. The small town lifestyle the city provides matches my serene spirit and simplistic lifestyle. Okay, enough about me, now back to my trip to Florida.

Traffic was heavy as hell as I breezed down I-85 headed toward Atlanta. I was just about to dodge a truck that was attempting to cut me off when my cell phone vibrated again. Once I was secure in my lane with no cars intruding on my space, I reluctantly checked the caller ID. It was James again, calling for the tenth time since I left home. This time I answered it just to flatter myself. I skipped the formalities and got straight to the point.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I will not be turning this car back around to come back home. So, get that through your thick skull, and enjoy your time with the kids this weekend.” I had the phone glued tightly to my ear, just a moving violation waiting to happen.

He roared off a few vulgar explicatives and called me out of my name, as if that was anything new nowadays. Sometimes I wondered where he got his material? If he was going to be cursing me out every time I talked to him, at least he could come up with something new to say every now and again. I sighed.

Enjoying my newly found cojones, I said matter-of-factly, “If you want to talk to me civil, we can talk. However, you are not going to holler at me or call me out of my name today, because I will not receive or accept it. And you are definitely not changing my mind about taking this trip, so get over that.” I calmly told him, cooler than a cucumber – so cool it even shocked me. Knowing that he was hundreds of miles away and unable to reach out to strike me made me bold.

Despite my warning, he yelled all kinds of curse words into my ear, calling me all kinds of bitches, hos, unfit mothers and motherfuckers. Had he caught me any other day, my psyche would have been so fragile that I would have shattered under the intensity of his verbal assault. But this day I was a woman not easily broken. I had my own purpose and mission, so instead of responding to his fury, I blew a kiss into the phone. Shit, he would be beating my ass anyway, so why should I let him ruin my trip? Like it or not, I had to return home, and once I did, I’d have to face the music. I figured that I might as well make it worth my while.

“I’ll see you Monday, and we will talk then. Take care of my babies.” I told him. Maybe he will see me Monday, I thought. When those actual words had slipped from my tongue, my stomach lurched at the thought of having to go home to him. I knew what would await me there, but I pressed the visions of his fists to the back of my mind.

For too many years, he has been sadly mistaken, always calling me an unfit mother if I decided to do one thing for me that did not include him or the children. He constantly called me a whore and all kinds of bitches. Well, after this weekend, maybe there would be some truth to his claims of me being a bitch. Regardless, there were two people that I always did right by, and they were my children. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for my children, I would have just run away from our sorry excuse of a marriage years ago. It was past time for my not-so-lovely husband of six years to get a taste of what it felt like to be the one left at home caring for our two beautiful children, Nazaria and Kelvin, for days on end with no love or support from his spouse. And to think that I was only forcing him to be responsible for just one weekend. It had been my job ever since we found out that I was pregnant with Nazaria to watch over, protect, and provide for our children while my husband ran rampant in the streets, never assisting, never supporting, and never encouraging. For God’s sakes, the man didn’t even bring his paycheck home when he was lucky enough to be earning one.

Even with all of that, instead of running around town cheating with different men - like James often does with his skanks – I was simply taking a ‘me time’ break in Miami, Florida. A three-day vacation full of rest and relaxation was just what I needed. My reservations were made weeks ago when I took Brenda Jackson up on her offer to attend the reunion. I immediately planned my getaway upon receiving the impressive gold invite without a second thought. I had always said, “If you are going to do something, Gladys, do it big with no regrets,” and that was exactly what I was doing on this highway to M-I-A.

My spirit was empowered, because today I was finally taking a stand. That thought alone made me smile so big that I thought the corners of my mouth were going to crack. Affecting a change for me, starting today, felt great. Yeah, sure, James continued to scream into the phone, but I was a woman on a mission.

“What the hell has gotten into you, woman? You can’t just jump on the highway and leave home without discussing taking a trip with me! Oh, you just wait until I get my hands on you, you disrespectful little cunt. You thought you were hurt before… You have no idea what I have planned for you! The longer you stay away, the worse it will be when you get here, Gladys! Now, I’m telling you to get your spic ass back home right now, bitch, and I mean now!” In my mind, I could see James pacing the living room floor furious and wishing he could knock a hole in my head. He would probably punch a few holes in the walls of the house once he realized that nothing he would say or do could change the way the wind blew this day. The winds of change were pushing me toward Florida. Unlike nearly every other week, I would not be waiting up for him until I was too tired to hold my eyes open this weekend, and I could care less how he was taking that news.

These were my final words to him before I dropped the device down into my purse. "You and the kids have fun, babes. I am turning my cell phone off now." James would just have to understand the fact that I’d wanted to break out of the four-cornered rooms of our house that have all but smothered my livelihood minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day for six years.

When I fell in love with him, I knew that his love had awakened new things inside of me. The last thing I would have ever expected was that a few years later, the part of me that he had awakened would shrivel up and die of unrest. Once that part of me had perished, he kept right along living larger than life, as if he hadn’t recognized the corpse sleeping beside him. Perhaps he hadn’t.

James’ mind must be baffled beyond confusion right now. Not sweet ole homely Gladys running away for the weekend! I didn’t even confront him about the email from his trashy whore, so undoubtedly I would be the talk of the town by tomorrow morning.

I bet he already had his mother on speed dial. Well, they could have their little bitch session. The two of them taking turns blasting my name through the telephone was the least of my worries right now, while I had the hot Florida sun shining on my face through my car’s front windshield. That woman never liked me anyway, and quite frankly, I was a day past tired of faking like I liked her trifling tail, too. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was well-aware of the way that James was treating me behind closed doors (who knows, she may have been a punching bag for her own husband before he left her). You would think a woman would have some solidarity towards her son’s abused wife, but no. She took every opportunity she had to verbally bash me just as hard as he did.

I had spoken to Kelvin and Nazaria the night prior, and I told them that I would be gone for the weekend, so I wasn’t just abandoning my babies. To my surprise, they both were happy to know Mommy was going on a trip. As little as they were, they were all for me doing something that would make me happy. I hated to admit it, but I was sure that they knew about the beatings their father bestowed upon me. I tried to keep sunglasses on around them if I had black eyes, and I attempted to hide the bruises the best way possible. You just can’t keep things like that from children. They knew when Mommy was hurting, and I was sure they’d heard my cries in the middle of the night. My babies were as awesome as the sun, and I wouldn’t change one thing about them for the world – not even conceiving them with their bitch ass father. At least, James was good to them, doing whatever possible to avoid showing them his hatefulness. I had to give him credit for that much. He would never think of touching either of them. They had his blood coursing through their veins, and that was precious to him.

I took another look at the golden pass to Fontainebleau Resort to spend three days and two nights, at no charge. I was anxious and excited about the masquerade party Brenda was throwing, my free hotel nights, and just the entire weekend getaway. I reached inside of my purse, pulled out my cell, put it on silent with no vibrations, and dropped it back down into my purse.

“No more phone calls will interrupt my peace,” I assured myself aloud. This impromptu trip was completely out of character for me, but I threw caution to the wind. In my heart, I was craving the peace and tranquility of the ocean front. Married life sure wasn’t the white picket fence, dinner and a movie life I had envisioned that James and I would have, but so is life. All I knew for sure was that right now, a few relaxing days away from it all was sounding better by the minute. I turned up the volume on the radio, erased all traces of home from my mind, and pushed forward through the traffic.

Chapter 9

Shayla

Kicking off my shoes, I glanced at the gold Chanel set half-carat diamond toe ring that accentuated my freshly manicured toes. As it shimmered under the dimmed recessed lighting, the milieu that surrounded me was so breathtaking that I couldn’t help but admire all of my lavish amenities. I was one lucky woman to have everything I could ever ask for and more. I bowed my head and thanked God for all of the blessings I had received over the years. Our home overlooking Lake Nesto was in one of the most prominent neighborhoods both in and outside the city limits. Titus and I had equipped it with the finer things of life. Glancing at the clock, I was discouraged to find that it was 10:25 PM.

"I’m so glad I didn't change into my swimming suit. Then, I'd be sitting here looking like an even bigger fool than I do already," I said to the empty room, as I wallowed in my sorrows while still sitting on the couch.

Usually, I did not question Titus’ whereabouts, because I didn’t want to have to accept his lies. Sometimes no news was better than tainted news. Then again, as finicky as he could be, he’d probably have the nerve to be mad at me if I called him on his bull. It was messed up that he would be the one missing from home for a week and have the nerve to get mad if I asked where he had been.

He’d never do anything but fuss, but by the time he got finished fussing and cussing I would feel like he had put his hands all over me. I knew for a fact that he was not above cheating. I’d caught him a time or two back when I was checking for him. It was then that he let me know with the quickness that he did not appreciate me snooping around in his business.

The phone rang, breaking the silence in the room. It was Titus. I quickly pressed END on his call, silenced the ringer, and deleted his number from the caller ID. It was his time to sweat for a little while, just like I had done all day long. A minute after the phone rang, the voicemail light lit up indicating that he had left a message. I got physically sick to my stomach knowing that he was ready to feed me lies, and I like the fool that I was, I would undoubtedly eat them with a smile.

I allowed my mind to drift to another place that I’d rather be – in love. I imagined what it would be like to be married to one of those businessmen who came home every evening, reached down to pet the dog, and kissed the kids on the forehead goodnight. I wondered what it would feel like to have a man who was attentive to his wife’s needs, wants and desires. I was so starved for attention that I could actually see myself falling in love with a man who thought finding a difficult word in a cross word puzzle was the highlight of the day. If that meant he was going to be home to whisper sweet nothings in my ear at the end of the night, I was all for it. That scenario was so foreign to me that it sounded like nothing but far-fetched fantasy fairytales. Did anyone really live lives like that besides the white women you see carting Little Timmy and Little Tommy off to baseball practice in their mini-vans?

I had just drifted off to sleep dreaming about my very own loving businessman when the front door inched slowly ajar. I slightly cracked my eyes open to see my husband tiptoeing toward me with a dozen roses. Assuming I was asleep, he looked down at me on the couch and smiled. For a second or two, I could see a glimpse of regret slide across his face. That was definitely a new look for him.

My auburn-colored hair was disheveled across my face, covering full view of my eyes, so Titus could not tell that I was watching his every move. He eased down onto one knee and gently pushed several strands of hair away from my face and neck, exposing my honey toned skin. He’d once told me that I was his ‘Black Barbie’, and as I lay on the couch admiring my husband admire me I thought about that nickname. At that very moment, he had the same look of affection in his eyes that he had when he first called me that. I didn’t so much as make one tiny movement, afraid that I would break the trance and ruin the tender moment. I didn’t want to give away the fact that I was in a fake slumber.

As his eyes roamed over my body, he whispered, “Baby, you know you look like a goddess in your sleep. Mmmm, and that silk pajama set is absolutely beautiful.” He retrieved a single rose from the dozen that he had sat on the coffee table and dangled the sweet flower near my face, gently tickling my nose. When that did not rouse me, he finally decided to gently shake my shoulder.  “Shayla? Wake up, babe.”

I had heard him come in, smelled the roses, felt his nudge, and heard him call out to me, but I decided to make him sweat for a little while longer. If it was possible to be completely irritated and irreversibly in love with a person at the very same time, then that would explain exactly how I felt.

“I’m sorry, babe,” his bold voice spoke louder. “Please, wake up. The night is still young,” He knelt down and kissed my cheek, lightly rubbing his fingers over my lips. The night is still young? Was that the best he could come up with? Typical. He’s so selfish, I thought. A few more pleas, and I was going to tell him about himself.

“Shayla. Come on, babe. I know you’re up. You are not that good at faking like you’re asleep. Daddy is sorry Mama,” Titus said, and I could tell he was speaking in the most humble voice he knew how. I pretended to stir, rubbing my eyes for added effect. Once my eyes focused on him, I looked over to the clock and pointed at the time. It was 10:45 PM.

“It’s real cute and stuff that you’re strolling in here with roses and all, but it would have been even more cute if you had done it four hours ago.” I slowly sat up on the couch and stretched my arms to the sky as I took a nice long yawn.

He had the nerve to look surprised. He quickly retrieved the other roses from the coffee table and held them out to me as a set.

“Shayla, baby, I am so sorry for missing out on the dinner you prepared for me.” When he realized that I was not going to accept the roses, he placed them back on the coffee table and put his hand on my chin to raise my eyes to meet his.

I forced my face to turn away from him, despite his insistence. “And I know what’s up with you and Rhonda. Don’t even deny it.”

“What?” His face dropped, his jaw hanging open.

“Do you think I’m really that dense, Titus?” I shouted.

“I… Baby… I…”  He stuttered, stuck on stupid.

“I know exactly what ya’ll did, trying to concoct some stupid story about you going to Atlanta, just to make me feel better.” I eyed him suspiciously.

“… Wait. Atlanta?” He looked totally confused now.

“Yeah, she told me your little lie about going to Atlanta to get me a present. Now all you come home with are these roses?! You mean to tell me it took you four hours and a drive to Atlanta to get me roses? I know Rhonda only wants for me not to be upset, but that’s the dumbest excuse I have ever heard in my life, Titus!” My nostrils flared as I waited for his explanation.

He paused, thinking, and then I could have sworn that I saw a slight smile cross his lips. He wiped his forehead and leaned in, “Shayla, baby… you’ve got to let me make this up to you.”

“It’s not funny! I don’t know why you’re smiling. How, Titus? How are you going to make it up to me? Do you think a new ring will work? Do you think you can just buy my happiness like I’m a high-priced prostitute? What do you want from me? If you don’t love me, then why won’t you just let me go?” I didn’t quite plan on this line of questioning, but since the issues were on the table, I stared him straight in his eyes and waited on his answer.

“Listen, Shayla, I can tell that you’re upset, as you should be. You are the most important person in my life, and I was wrong for standing you up tonight. Trust me; I know that. I’m sorry, and it will not happen again. But you are going overboard to even think that I don’t love you. I love you with everything I have in me, babygirl. Believe that.” He then pressed his lips against mine and kissed me. Every two seconds, Titus paused his lip lock long enough to tell me how sorry he was. When he finally broke the kiss, he continued to explain himself. “I had an issue come up with one of my suppliers tonight. I had to set them straight, but from now on, you come first, Shayla.”

I hated the effect that his touch had on me, even when everything in me knew I should stay angry. At this point, I couldn’t tell if it was all a bunch of bullshit lies again, or if he sincerely was just caught up tonight and was sincere about being sorry for missing our time to bond. Either way, he had to have been sampling his own goods if he thought coming in here with a simple explanation would suffice. I wanted to believe him. I really did, but I knew better from experience. I knew that if I fell for the okie-doke again, this same scenario would play itself over and over until I finally wised up.

I was about to give him a piece of my mind when my vision really came into focus, and I realized that Titus was kneeling on one knee with his pants off. Yes, my husband was clad with only a white wife-beater and his sexy black boxer-briefs. I rolled my eyes in an attempt to maintain by tough exterior, but the pure sight of him had me heated. I tried to think of a Bible verse that would calm the matrimonial lust that started to take up residence in my body – anything to allow me to be strong enough to confront him properly – but there were few things that I could not deny.

One: Titus was the finest piece of milk chocolate that I’d ever had the pleasure of indulging in. And two: I couldn’t resist my chocolate. He was two-hundred-and-ten-pounds of pure muscle stretched over a six foot frame. His dreads were neatly trimmed. His goatee was trimmed perfectly across his jaw line, and he had flawlessly silky cocoa-brown skin. This was the man who possessed calf muscles that were so big and taut that I could just rub them for hours on end.

For the next few seconds, I struggled internally on how to approach the situation at hand. He had to pay for standing me up. As incredibly fine as he was, Titus had gotten away with too much all too often. I bit down on my bottom lip and tried to compose myself to think of my next point of action. It was then that he put the icing on the cake and made my decision for me. He stood up and pulled me to my feet, so that our bodies meshed together like they were meant to be one. Involuntarily wrapping my arms around his neck, I closed my eyes and prayed to the Gods for strength.

“Titus, you are so wrong!” I whined, pouting with my bottom lip poked out.

“I know, but let me make it right,” His baritone whisper blew the hot words into my ear, and they then maneuvered their way all throughout my body, heating me from the inside out. Oh, what this man did to me! He then pulled me back in for a long and tender kiss, moving his mouth from my lips to my neck, and finally travelling downward over my breasts.

I realized that I was losing the battle even more with each passing moment. It’s just not possible for a woman to turn down a hot night of passion with her husband when that is all she has craved for so long. I needed to feel the love that he was so graciously giving me. He broke the kiss and searched my eyes to see if I was ready to forgive him, and despite all common sense that said that I should feel otherwise – I was.

Reluctantly, I stood there in a passionate stupor and said, “I forgive you.” He smiled and licked his lips in that signature LL style, so I added, “For now.”

To break the awkward silence, I giggled like the vulnerable woman I was. The fact that he hadn’t made it home earlier filed itself neatly away in the Never Mind compartment of my mind – just like so many other broken promises, missed dates, and lonely nights. I had every right to be furious, and trust me, I wanted to be mad at him. I really did, but he made it hard for a sister. The sexy look in his eyes and the aching between my thighs pretty much cinched it for me. My spirit was too weak to deal with his shortcomings right at that very moment, so I masked the mischievous grin that threatened to spread across my face and gently pulled away from his embrace.

“Get back over here,” Titus said, as he picked me up, securing me in his arms. I loved the way that he held me effortlessly, making me feel as though I was as light as a feather. We kissed deeply as he walked to the staircase. He took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get me into our master bedroom.

Chapter 10

Titus

After making sweet love to my wife, I stayed in the bed enjoying the moment. I pulled the comforter up over her so that she wouldn’t get too cold. My Black Barbie laid in our bed of love with the afterglow of our passion all over her beautiful skin. At that very moment, I thought about kicking my own ass for even thinking about being with another woman when I had more than a man could ask for at home,  Even worse, what was I doing fucking around with her best friend? What kind of stupid shit was I getting caught up in? I pushed those pesky thoughts about Rhonda out of my mind. Thoughts of that crazy possessed woman had no place here, soiling our bedroom in our family home. I wrapped my arms tightly around wifey’s waist and held her until sleep overtook us both.

The next morning, the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh cinnamon awakened me. I hopped out of bed happy as a sissy with a bag of dicks and dashed into the shower for a get-fresh quickie, so I could join Shayla in the kitchen. If I was lucky, I would be getting some fresh cinnamon-flavored pussy for breakfast, too.

Once I had shitted, showered, and shaved, I tossed on a pair of silk boxers and followed the delicious smell to the kitchen. I sprinted down the steps bouncing like a man that had just been born again. Now that Shayla had accepted my apology, and I was confident that we would be capable of starting things over on a new foot, I didn’t want to do anything ever again that could cause me to lose her.

When I turned the corner and entered the kitchen, I immediately felt like vomiting in my throat. I had completely lost my appetite. Rhonda had the nerve to bring her skanky ass up in my kitchen. There she was, sitting across from my wife, on my high-back breakfast chair,  at my special ordered French-style breakfast table, and she had the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on her face that she could possibly have. Just that fast, my mood had gone from happy-go-lucky to straight boo boo. To my dismay, that fuckin’ chickenhead beamed at Shayla and pointed at me, saying, “Look who’s out of bed, Shayla! Good morning, sleepy head.”

Completely aware that I’d lost that pep in my stride, I walked into the kitchen slowly and stood beside my wife’s chair across from Rhonda. I purposefully kissed Shayla on the cheek, keeping my eye on Rhonda, and said, “Yeah.”

If she could read my body language, then she knew that the next time I saw her alone, I was going to administer a back hand pimp slap to her crooked jaw on general principal. On the real, she had some kind of nerve showing up here this morning.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Shayla said, interrupting my thoughts. Wifey was perkier than ever, smiling as she spoke. She had a way of radiating a room. I wished that I could appreciate her positive disposition fully, but with that whore watching my every move, I was salty. “I thought you were going to sleep the day away, mister.”

Greeting me properly, Shayla stood up from her chair, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, and kissed me. As I hugged and kissed Shayla back, I looked over at Rhonda with fire in my eyes and wished her ass would POOF and be gone. When wifey broke contact, she had an unmistakable look of pride on her face. I knew that she was happy to show off our love in front of her friend. Little did she know, that two-bit bitch across the table was anything but her friend.

“Guess what, baby?” she asked. “I made your favorite omelet this morning with bacon, ham and red peppers.” She walked over to the microwave and retrieved a saran-wrapped plate. She then walked back over to where I was standing and waved it in front of my nose. A carefully prepared meal consisting of my favorite omelet, a half a dozen fresh sliced strawberries, and grits was perfectly arranged on my plate.

“I also made cinnamon waffles, but I was waiting for you to come down, so that I could make yours fresh for you.” Then, she whispered in my ear, “I planned to feed you breakfast in bed, but since Ronnie came over, we can just eat down here. She’s feeling down in the dumps, because some jerk she spent the night with last night attacked her.”

I cringed and caught myself, hoping that Shayla wouldn’t take notice. I took the plate out of Shayla’s hand and said, “No need for you to make waffles now. I’ll just eat what you have here.” My eyes were glued on our intruding guest. It was funny how, which in just a matter of hours, Rhonda had now become an intruder where she used to be welcome.

Snapping out of my trance, I told Shayla, “Well, you girls chit chat for a little bit. I’m going to take my food upstairs and watch some ESPN. I want you back in my bed ASAP woman.” I gave Shayla a forced smile and then turned my attention to Rhonda. “Rhonda, if you don’t mind, the wife and I want to get back to bed for a day in, so don’t keep her too long with your issues.” I said through clenched teeth, putting an emphasis on ‘issues’ to try and help her remember that her issues could get a whole hell of a lot worse.

I kissed my unsuspecting wife with enough of that T-passion to leave her in a tailspin. I stood close enough to her so that she could feel my lower region’s reaction to the kiss, and said, “I need you to come up to bed very soon, feel me?”

“Understood Mr. Wilson,” she smiled, twirling strands of hair around her finger. I was just about to head back up stairs when Shayla said, “You are so sinful, Titus Montre.”

If only you knew the half, I thought. I shot Rhonda a look mixed with disgust and a silent threat to warn her to hold her peace. Either she would heed my warning, or she would feel the burn of my piece. Shayla followed behind me and out of the earshot of that skeezer and continued, speaking under her breath so as not to be heard, “Ronnie really has some major issues. Some grimy negro jumped on her last night. “

Biting down hard on a piece of bacon, I simply said, “No shit?”

“Yeah, so give me just a few minutes to talk to her, and I will happily oblige your every wanton need later, mister. You know I don’t have a problem with that. Funny thing is that she was just about to tell me who he was when you walked in. And If I can get her to tell me who this punk is I want you to sick your dogs on him pronto. Okay, babe?”

What the fuck!? My wheels were turning. I’d be damned if I was leaving Shayla alone with that home wrecking wench now. I was glad that thinking quick on my feet came with the territory of running these streets. I shook my head and said, “No, baby girl. If you stay down here with Rhonda and her drama, you’ll be down here until night falls. I tell you what. You mosey them fine ass hips of yours on upstairs and get ready for a double dose of last night, and I’ll get the rest of the story, including the name of this nigga from Rhonda. I put my life on the fact that she won’t have to worry about that happening to her again! I got this.” I pleaded with the wife, because I had to take control of this situation and fast.

Shayla stood there for a second or two looking unsure, which was par for the course when it came to difficult situations. Then, as always, I assisted her with her decision making.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, anyway. We both know she’s a drama queen. Besides she don’t even look beat up. She just likes to cackle about nothing half the time, and you know that we need this time together. It’s been so long, baby. I don’t want to waste any time that I could be spending with my little Black Barbie doll. So, go on up to the bedroom, and get ready for Daddy. You know you want to.”

After I laid it all out there, Shayla kissed me one last time and winked before finally submitting. “Okay, I’ll let you handle this, but make sure it gets handled, baby. I’m counting on you to be there for my sister, because no one has the right to treat her like that.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ve got this,” were my final words before Shayla inched hesitantly up the stairway. Once she was at the top of the stairs and had closed the bedroom door behind her, I speed walked back into the kitchen. Sweat was beading on my forehead, and I wasn’t even the type of nigga to break a sweat, normally.

Rhonda darkening my doorstep with this bullshit first thing in the morning, sitting on my damn furniture, dropping hints about telling Shayla what happened last night, made me madder than a motherfucking bulldog on some red meat. What kind of game was she trying to play with a nigga like T? Man, she was a glutton for punishment. Whatever it was game she was playing, she was about to get checkmated.

Rhonda was sitting on a stool at the island when I walked back into the kitchen. Her eyes popped wide open with surprise when she saw me return instead of Shayla. Then, she smiled a devilish grin when I got directly in front of her face and spit nothing but pure venom at her. “Get yo’ motherfucking ass the hell out of my house, woman! You know good and well I’m not about to stand by idly while you drop hints about spilling your guts to my wife about us. You’ve been warned once, and now you’re testing me for the second time in twenty-four hours? What, you didn’t get it good enough last night, you dense ass broad?”

“Now, wait a minute. Hold on there now, big boy. I didn’t mention your name, but I knew coming here under the circumstances would get your attention. I just wanted you to know that I’m still here and not going anywhere. All I want is your attention.” Her cocky ass got up from her seat, walked over, and stood directly in front of me. She moved in close and puckered her lips for a kiss.

I shoved her violently back three feet from me and asked, “What the fuck is your problem? Are you fuckin’ crazy, Rhonda?”

She was still drinking that Kool-Aid, because she answered, “Only about you.”

“Look, you crazy bitch… I told you this ‘me and you’ thing is a figment of your imagination. The only couple up in here is me and my better half that just walked up those steps.” I brought my forceful voice down a notch, and through tightly pursed lips said, “Now get out of my house!” I grabbed her arm firmly, walked her toward the front door, and opened it.

Rhonda refused to walk through the door, pushing it closed, purring, “Titus… T… I really think you need to think about this, baby. You don’t want me to really start singing like a canary, do you? If you keep treating me like some piece of shit on the bottom of your shoes, you will feel my wrath. And T? Trust me; I don’t even know how far I will go to lash back. You don’t want it to go there, Titus. You wanted to try me out, and now you’ve got me… until the death!”

As she spoke, she maintained an insane grin. Her hand gently inched down until it reached and stroked my manhood. “Go’n with that bull, Rhonda.” I shifted my weight onto my right foot awkwardly.

Her touch was like water, dousing the flame of my anger. What was it about her hands that were so soothing to a nigga? I guess that was part of the magic that she possessed, and she sure as hell was sprinkling that magic over me now. With my precious wifey right upstairs, I allowed Ronnie to stroke me for a few seconds too long because before I knew anything she had stroked me straight into stupid.

We’d fought before. I thought, Maybe this last fight was just another one of those moments that people have when they catch feelings for each other. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but all I knew was that she was doing that thing that only she knew how to do. She was calming down a nigga like T, and I was letting her.

It was then that I knew I had to have some real feelings for her. Otherwise, I would have been able to physically throw her out of my house without responding to her touch at all. This woman had some strange hoodoo over me, or something. I had killed men for less than what she had done already, let alone what she was threatening to do. I let out several deep breaths and licked my lips as she slid her palm up and down my shaft like a pro, waving her thumb over the head each time she got to the end of it. Suddenly, she stopped long stroking me and concentrated her movements right at the tip, squeezing and releasing until I thought I would explode. Then, I did. I wasn’t normally a man to bust a nut so quickly, but the adrenaline and testosterone she had pumping through my veins betrayed me.

“I’m not going anywhere. Neither do you want me to,” Ronnie chuckled softly, bringing a hand covered in my seed up to her lips. She slowly licked her fingers dry while I stared at her, bracing myself against the wall by the door. My knees had grown weak, and apparently, so had my mind. She placed her free hand on my chest, rubbing my pecs. After my unexpected climax, every inch of my body was sensitive, and she had my nipples hard as rocks.

This girl was ruthless in her pursuit, which was what made her so damn sexy to me in the first place. My willpower was shot to hell, but I was still a man about mine. She had to get the hell out from up in here with that shit before Shayla came downstairs to find me in an embarrassing position. If she came down right now, there was no way I’d be able to deny what has just happened. My wife knew what I looked like after I’d busted a good nut, that’s for sure. It was obvious that my body and my sexual nature wouldn’t let me deny that I did want my wife – and Ronnie, too. Since I’d let her have the upper hand (literally) for now, I tried again and asked her to leave nicely.

“Just leave, baby, and we’ll hook up later tonight. I need some more of that…” I promised her some time as I pushed her away from me and opened the door again. I could hear the bedroom shower running and Shayla singing to her own beat, unaware that treachery in its highest form was taking place right here in her living room.

Instead of honoring my request, Rhonda pushed the door closed again, took me by the hand, and led me into the den. I was too spent to protest. My mind was screaming at me to man up, pick her up by her throat, and throw her out of the house like an old piece of furniture, but my body was telling me something more sinister and selfish. “Ronnie, you need to go ahead and leave. Please, girl. It’s bad enough you done made me skeet all over my damn draws. I’m not doin’ nothin’ else with you in my house.” I was desperate to get her to leave without making a scene. How had I lost control?

I know I sounded like a punk begging her to leave my house before I fucked the dog shit out of her with my wife upstairs. Knowing my words didn’t match my actions, she ignored my weak ass protest. Hell, I would have ignored that request too. After all, I did follow her into the den like a blind sheep, and Big T had made a speedy recovery, too. He was standing up straight against my belly like a baseball bat.

“You called me Ronnie, which means you’re weak for me, Titus. I know you all too well,” She purred, as she closed the den door and locked it.

She did know me too well. When a woman knows your weaknesses, watch out – it’s a good possibility the game is over. She also knew the den had a lock on the door and a side exit door, so she could leave once her devilish scheme was complete. Behind the den’s locked door, she pushed me up against the wall and released my now throbbing manhood from my boxers. She dropped to her knees shamelessly and began sucking me so good that I was powerless to put up much of a fight.

“This is fucked up,” was the only comment I could weakly get out as I grabbed the back of her head and pushed my dick further down her throat. What we were doing was wrong, but it was also the type of cheap thrill and adventurous streak that most men would give their left arm for.

Removing my dick from her dripping mouth, she said, “No, what’s fucked up is that you choose Shayla over me when you know she can’t be the woman that you need.” Her hand tightened around my shaft as her lips, tongue, and throat continued the job of pleasuring me once again.

“Oh, Ronnie… shit! You know I got you, girl. Just make Big T cum for me. That’s right, do what you have to do to get back in good with Daddy.” This had to have gone on for at least a full five minutes, and once I had tested her gag reflex and came all down her throat, Rhonda was completely satisfied. She picked up her purse off the floor and disappeared out the den’s exit without speaking another word.

I leaned against the door for a few seconds before quickly collecting my thoughts. Shaking my head at the drama I had gotten myself tangled up in, I went into the kitchen, picked up the plate that I’d placed on the table, and warmed up the breakfast food.

“What’s taking you so long, baby?” Shayla yelled, standing at the top of the stairs in her pink negligee.

“Uh… Just getting us some wine for you, Shay. I’ll be there in a minute.” I took a deep breath. Was I really ready for Round Three? I guessed I had to be. I took a paper towel from the holder, wiped the sweat from my forehead, retrieved two wine glasses from the cellar, and trotted toward the steps. I might be a dog, but I love my wife. This shit Ronnie is pulling is too close for comfort. Too close. I can’t call it, but whatever kind of trip I’m on letting her jack me off and suck my dick in the house is dangerous, I thought. I had to get this situation under control… and soon.

Chapter 11

Gladys

Eventually, but not nearly soon enough for me, I arrived in Fontainebleau’s lobby area. Unlike the tense drive over, I felt free like a runaway slave – no more master. I was stress free, work free, husband free, child free. Just simply free to be me. Even the fresh air that filled my lungs seemed to move in and out more freely.

“Ah, I really needed this getaway,” I said to no one in particular. Internally, I encouraged myself not to feel guilty about the stolen free ‘me time.’ “It’s not like you do things for yourself all of the time, Gladys.”

After about thirty minutes of waiting in the long line in the reception area, I was all checked into my hotel room and heading to my suite to get changed. I tipped the bellhop who so graciously brought my belongings up to my room and provided me with some great site seeing locations. I then began unpacking my bags, placing each outfit on a hanger and my underclothes inside of the dressers. My plan was to get down to the bar area to see if I’d run into any of my old classmates before the ball tomorrow night.

Unfortunately, when I moved to Valley, Alabama I’d lost contact with just about everyone from college, and I was anxious to see my old friends. I quickly showered using my favorite White Diamonds body wash. After I dried off, I applied a generous amount of the matching lotion to my skin. I chose a form-fitting black shirt and black tights with an oversized black belt. My stiletto heels added a nice touch to my outfit, and when I released my shoulder length blond-streaked hair from the bow I was wearing it hung beautifully in an array of fluffy curls around my neck. With pure confidence, I sashayed downstairs to the bar and grille looking and feeling like a million bucks.

That feeling was short lived when a familiar face caught my eye.

“Say it ain’t so,” I said aloud, knowing that the person I spotted could not be the real man in the flesh. As soon as I stepped into the bar, the first person I saw sitting at a corner table was Maverick Douglas. When I was a student at Albany State in Georgia, I was madly in love with Maverick.

Maverick was the kind of man every coed dreamt of finding while away at college. He was gorgeous – very easy on the eyes. His smile would melt an ice sculpture. If he gazed at you, you could feel him disseminating your soul as each second on the clock ticked by. I thanked God for every moment that I was able to spend with him, memorizing the smooth terrain of his body and staring into those amazing eyes. I remembered his coarse goatee, and how it would tickle my stomach as he kissed my belly button just before we made love. His chestnut brown skin that covered his tall and slender frame would simply meld into my flesh whenever we became one.

But our relationship was far more than the romance. His intelligence was just as intriguing. Never before had I been able to feel so free to be myself and truly let go with another person of the opposite sex before. He erased all of my shyness, and in his arms there was a comfort and security that could not be matched anywhere else. I rested in him. Does that make sense? I just rested in him. We talked for hours in the quad, underneath the shade of the trees, about current events and our studies. We discussed our families, our opinions about major political issues, anything and everything.

I knew that Maverick loved me. More than that, he respected me on all levels. No one else before him had ever shown me that type of pure unadulterated love before, except my family, of course. That’s just it. He had always felt like family to me. It’s hard to explain, but it’s easy to recognize when you feel it. Maverick felt like home.

I just knew that once we each got our degrees, we would get married and do the happily ever after thing – buy the perfect home, get the perfect dog, and have a house full of children. That was the game plan, until I began to feel as though he was slowly losing interest in me.

I was devastated. I was so jealous of his time. I felt so good being around him that I wanted that feeling all the time. To my dismay, he would spend weeks at a time holed up in his room studying his engineering materials, and every time I called or came by it seemed like he didn’t have any time for me. Our once inseparable relationship was reduced to only moments in passing, and I really started to feel like we were taking on the role of two classmates instead of the lovers that were meant to be.

Soon, my envious and fiery Spanish roots began to rear their ugly head. I was so sure that he had a girl on the side to fill the void in time that he had usually spent with me that I started to get jealous of this imaginary woman. I even pictured what she looked like, how she probably walked, how she laughed at his jokes, and stroked his hair. I tortured myself with these thoughts, convincing myself that he was up to something sneaky behind my back.

He tried to convince me that it was just his schedule that had him busy with studying, work, and classes, but my jealousy eventually led to me breaking off the relationship. I didn’t want to hear his lies, or unbelievable truth. I remember vividly the evening that I called him with the news that would help to shape my future. It was just before summer break when I made the phone call I would live to regret for so many years afterward.

***

“Hey, Honey Love,” he answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Maverick. I’m glad you decided to answer.” I am stern and get straight to the point. “It’s obvious that you don’t have any time for me lately, so instead of either of us being strung along any longer than necessary, I think it’s best that we just split up now and save either of us any hard feelings.” I speak a mile a minute, trying to get my thoughts out before I lose the nerve to say what I feel. I’m young and impulsive, and I am very impatient.

“Wait a minute, Gladys. I’ve been tied down studying for finals, but…”

I can’t stand to listen to a lie, so I stop him before he gets started telling one. “No. Don’t say anything. I’m doing what’s in our best interest, Maverick, so let’s cut our losses early. This way you are free to do your thing, and I’m free to do mine.”

“Honey Love?” Honey Love is a nickname he gave to me when we first started dating. Hearing the two words at this stage in our relationship is irritating. I am not trying to be lovey-dovey, so he can stop with the pet names. Undoubtedly, he is attempting to convince me to rethink the breakup.

“Listen, I’m woman enough to tell you how I feel, and the only reason I called was to tell you how I feel about us being together. Take care of yourself, Maverick.” I hang up the phone and cry like a baby. What is it inside of young women that seems to crave drama and a constant rollercoaster ride of emotions? If I knew, I would be a rich woman.

That summer, I go home to my parents and do not hear from Maverick the entire summer. I don’t make it easy for us to connect, either, being that I change my cell phone number. Also, I throw my friends off by telling them I am going to stay with my aunt in New York for the summer. When the fall session begins, I find out that Maverick has not reenrolled at Albany. I get word through his brother that he has been accepted to an Upward Bound engineering graduate program at another school. Just like that, he vanishes from my life without a trace. I eventually meet James at a fraternity party in my senior year. We hit it off well, and it isn’t long before we are at the altar.

***

Looking in Maverick’s direction at the bar, my internal voice whispered calm words to my spirit willing me to maintain my composure. I wanted to go to him and ask him a million questions to catch up with what has been going on in his life. I wondered if he had ever married. Did he have a little Maverick Jr. running around back home – or maybe two or three? Did he ever become an engineer (I had no doubt that he had), and where did he live now? As much as I wanted to find out all of these things about him, I wanted to keep my own details on the low. What did I have to say about my own life that could be shared with a man like Maverick Douglas?

I also wanted to offer him a million apologies for ending things the way that I did. I’d been young and muy estupido. I hadn’t thought out the consequences of my actions. Had I reacted prematurely when I had broke things off with him so abruptly those many years ago? Deep down, I think I had always thought that we’d see each other again, and maybe once he’d seen how rough it was being without me, he’d come running back, better than ever! I was so self-centered. I was wrong. But more than anything, I just wanted to be close to him, like I’d dreamed of being so many nights since we had permanently parted ways.

Now that the opportunity to touch him in the flesh was right in my face, I stood there frozen in time. I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate, and I quickly flagged the bartender down for a drink.

“Yes ma’am, what would you like?”

“Extra strong cotton candy martini, please.”

I needed a few martinis in me post haste, so that I could keep my composure in what seemed like an inevitable meeting with my past.

My mind was moving a mile a minute full of questions, answers, and anxiety. Did Maverick have any idea that I would be at this get together? Had he seen me already, but was he acting as though he hadn’t to see what I would do? If I approached him, what would his reaction be? Does he hate me? What if he hates me? What if he doesn’t? What if he wraps his arms around me and asks if he can carry me upstairs to his room? O, Dios mio, it was only by the grace of God that I kept my composure. I was feeling muy caliente all of a sudden.

This weekend was getting more interesting by the minute. Finally, my drink arrived, and I took a long swig of the heavenly calming fluid. Almost immediately the numbing effect kicked in, giving me the nerve to take another glance in Maverick’s direction.

Just like so many years prior, he’d vanished. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved that he was gone. The whole sighting was probably my mind playing tricks on me, anyhow – nothing but wishful thinking on my part. But then, I’d have to do some internal inspection, wouldn’t I? What would be the significance of me having visions of Maverick?

I smiled silently to myself while I nursed my drink. I was going to have to think long and hard on that one. I shook my head, giggling softly at my own naughty thoughts.

Then, without warning, two words I had not heard in years sent a raging heat from the top of my head down to the very tips of my neatly manicured toes.

Chapter 12

Shayla

What is taking Titus so long?

I’d showered, lotioned my skin to a silky glisten, and put on this delectable two-piece lingerie set, and he still had not made it back up to our bedroom with his breakfast. I reasoned that Rhonda must have been talking his ear off, and I hoped he was getting the name and address of the punk that abused her. After lying provocatively on the bed for a few minutes waiting, I peaked my head out the bedroom door and everything was quiet, so I called out to him.

“Titus?”

He didn’t answer, so I said to myself, “He must have let Ronnie out by now.”

Ready to drive him back up the wall where he would stay the rest of the morning, afternoon, evening, and night, I planned to remind him of everything that he was missing at home, and I mean everything. My husband and I needed this time alone together without his business getting in the way. Then I thought the worst, I hope he is not on the phone talking business, or worse, one of those raggedy negro friends of his have stopped by. I tell you we can have no peace!

I could give Titus one thing. On the rare occasion that he spent time at home, it was quality time – provided that he stayed away from his cell phone, and we had no visitors. I suppose that one of the two was already a wash with Ronnie stopping by this morning. Titus spared no expense spoiling me with gifts or performing his special late night massages in all the right places when I had his undivided attention. The thought made me smile. Thinking back to the time when he hired Chef Balal to prepare a romantic dinner serenaded by the famous singer Joe in the comfort of our dining room, I knew he could be a really a special man when he wanted to be. I snapped back from that sentimental trip down memory lane and slowly descended the staircase making sure not to make a sound. I had a surprise or two for Titus that I knew he would enjoy.

Moving like a model on the runway, I tiptoed through the living room. The edible gold-toned lotion spread over my body was ready to be licked, bitten, eaten and kissed. Edible nipple pastries and panties were about to make for a full course meal for my husband. When he had his fill, I planned to take him into the shower and break in the new swing. The toils of an undercover freaky housewife were never done. I laughed at the thought as well. For a few fleeting seconds, I felt like the silly schoolgirl in love so many years ago when I first met Titus on the schoolyard. To keep that feeling alive, I was willing to give the best of me to a man who would no doubt indulge completely, but I also knew that within a few days he would go back to being a part-time husband.

I pushed those irritating thoughts to the back of my mind, unwilling to let reality ruin my rare moments of happiness. I decided a long time ago to take the good with the bad with Titus. I knew the role of a kept woman, and even though he’d “wifed” me, I was still stowed away like a mistress. I enjoyed the glitz and glam of being the first woman to a made man and made the best of the time we had together, staying true to him no matter what.

I searched the kitchen with no luck in finding him. As I walked out of the kitchen, approaching the den, the sounds of sensual moans resonated through the door. I knew good and well he was not up in there watching porn when he had the real thing waiting on him.

“I must have left that TV on earlier,” I said, as I reached for the door handle.

Just as quickly as I reached for the handle, I released it like hot fire when I heard my best friend’s distinctive voice say, “It’s fucked up that you choose Shayla over me when you know she can’t be the woman that you need like I can.” My brow wrinkled up in a confused scowl. I felt my nostrils begin to flare as I pursed my lips together to suppress the shout of surprise that threatened to come forth and reveal my position.

Then my husband let out a moan and replied, “Oh, Ronnie… shit! You know I got you, girl. Just make Big T cum for me. Get back in good with daddy.”

A shiver ran through my spine. Hearing Titus speak his code name for what was rightfully mine to another female was inconceivable. My mouth fell wide open with anger and disgust. I had to be hearing things. Surely, my husband and my best friend were not getting it on right there in my den while I listened on the other side of the door. I pressed my ear up against the expensive mahogany and heard the unmistakable sounds of kisses, moaning, and raunchy sex talk.

A range of disturbing thoughts came as flashes through my mind. I saw flashes of Rhonda’s smiling face looking at me that very morning as I explained to her how Titus had come home late the night before. I remembered how I had described our feverish love making, and how silent she had sat while I told her all of my intimate details. I saw a flash of Titus’ shocked face as he came down the steps that morning when he saw Rhonda sitting in our kitchen. He had insisted that I leave him alone downstairs with her, while I waited like a dumbass upstairs for sloppy seconds!

I was unable to feel or think coherently. Every emotion seemed to push itself into my head at the same time, and none of them were good. But when I pressed my ear firmly against the door the second time and heard my husband’s moans along with slurping and sucking sounds, hurt overrode all of the other feelings, flowing through my spirit like an uncontrollable rushing river.

If what I imagined was going on was true, my heart was going to break in two directions.

Hearing my best friend purr and say, “Titus, you like that? I told you Shayla can’t do you like I can,” caused my stomach to begin to hurt as much as my spirit, tying itself up into a million tightening knots. I just could not believe my ears. There was no turning back now. It was happening, and it was happening in my home. My beautiful… expensive… expertly-designed… house of lies.

“Stop talking, and work your magic, Mama,” I heard Titus say, and with that I could not comprehend, think, feel, or concentrate. Colors seemed to grow brighter and swim across my eyes. The edges of my vision began to grow dark, and I thought that I was going to pass out, so I placed one hand on a wall table for balance. Two of the people I loved the most in this world were disrespecting me to the fullest. It was as if I was frozen in place, unable to run from the incomprehensible situation that I was thrust into. After the night we shared together, after getting up and cooking him breakfast, and after preparing to spend another beautiful day with him, I realized none of it had mattered to my husband. No matter what I did to attempt to please him, there would never be any respect or appreciation from Titus. I shuddered under the weight of anger and disrespect that I was feeling, shock drying up any tears that may have tried to fall.

And Rhonda, how could I have been so naïve? Why hadn’t I listened to Mama all of those times when she had told me, “Never tell your friends your personal business between you and your man. They act like they care about you, but they listenin’ hard, baby. Too hard.” Even though I had shaken my head and disregarded her warnings, she had been right.

Let me not even address how this conniving bitch had allowed me to pour my heart out to her so many times about what I was going through in my marriage. All the while, she knew that she’d take any opportunity that presented itself to give my husband a blow job! I had to fight the urge to burst through the door and put that whore’s weave straight through my plasma television. All this time, I had been crying on Rhonda’s shoulders about my problems. I had been a blind fool. How long had this been going on? While she coddled me and essentially advised me to stop whining and appreciate what I had with Titus, she was one of the women who stole away precious moments with my husband. And now, she had grown bold enough to do her dirt in my own home to boot. The two of them didn’t have any more tact than to get themselves off in my house. They had just made a makeshift Motel 6 of my den while I lay upstairs like an idiot.

Finally, I took two steps away from the door, looking at that doorknob as if it had turned into a four-eyed monster. At the moment, I was unsure of myself and any of the people that were supposed to be close to me. Everything I believed in had transformed, became demented, and caved in on itself..

I didn’t know what to do, so I did what came natural to me. I ran. With no place to run to in particular, I ran back up to my bedroom. As badly as I wanted to confront the two of them, it wasn’t in my nature. If I was real with myself, I knew that I had always been too meek. Maybe that was part of my problem. Even when I attempted to assert myself, it came off very passive-aggressive. No one ever took me seriously. That must explain how two people who I had let into my exclusive inner circle had chosen to shit in it. Titus didn’t think his actions would bring about consequences. Why should he? They never had before. Sure, a few tears and angry shouts from me every now and then when he went too far, but other than that, it was always business as usual. He had to learn a lesson. This was the very last straw – the last hurtful thing he would do to me while I sat with my head in the sand.

As I sank down into the bed, reality fell on my shoulders like a ton of bricks. My best friend was my husband’s mistress. While I had been crying on her shoulder, taking her advice and appreciating her attentiveness, I was the one who had it twisted. Not her. Not Titus. Me. They knew exactly what they were doing and were content on stabbing me directly in the center of my back with the precision of a surgeon. Careful to keep me alive, but injuring me nonetheless. With this incision, they went for blood, though. Knowing if I ever found this out, it would take all I had in me to keep my head up. I was cut deep. I wondered how long they had been slithering around on their bellies like the snakes that they were.

“No!” I screamed into the closest pillow I could find to muffle the sound. “How could Ronnie do this to me? I’ve loved her since we were kids! And Titus, there is no way he could love me the way he says he does. I knew he wasn’t true, but with Ronnie?”

The way they played me, they both could have bought and sold me for a quarter, which was how cheap I felt. I’d been played like a twenty-five-cent video game, and they both had the controllers. If it had been any other woman downstairs right at that moment, I’m sure that I would have had the backbone to snap and confront the situation head on, but hearing him say Ronnie’s name in the way that he did threw me for a serious loop. Rhonda was blood.

When Rhonda was sixteen and her mother kicked her out of the house because her stepfather didn’t want her there, it was me that convinced Mama to let Rhonda move in with us. I shared whatever I had with her from that day on. Apparently, I was still sharing things with her, whether I liked it or not!

Eventually, Rhonda’s mother chose her husband over her and never did allow her to come back home. If we were close friends before then, we were practically sisters when she moved in with us. Whenever she had a problem, we both had a problem. I looked at Rhonda’s picture that sat in a frame on my dresser and tried to imagine why she would betray me now? If she thought she was going to ride of into the sunset with my husband, she had another thing coming. I screamed into my pillow.

“Ugh! I can’t believe her! I guess she thinks screwing my husband is worth losing a sister for life. If she thinks for one minute I’m going to sit around and watch her ride off into the sunset with my husband, she has the whole situation messed up. I will leave him on my own terms, not hers or his.”

Situations like this provided a definition for the phrase, “I found love on a one-way street.” I loved them both, but neither apparently shared the same love for me. Someone please tell me how is it that I chose two grimy ass people to love.

After spending a few agonizing minutes in prayer, the uncontrollable anger that had attempted to overtake me gave way to tears that flowed freely for the next few minutes. Feeling as though I were having an out of body experience, I finally found the strength to rise and went into the bathroom to freshen up and rejuvenate my face. I was on autopilot, and with nothing but God holding me up, I managed to put myself back together.  I stood at the top of the stairs in my pink negligee, and even though I knew exactly what was holding him up, I collected myself, steadied my voice, and called out, “What’s taking you so long, baby?”

“Uh. Just getting us some wine for you, Shay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Turning around, feeling like a zombie, I walked back into my room and sat on the bed waiting for my husband to ascend the stairway. For the first time in our entire married life, I felt numb and detached from my own feelings. For one crazy moment, I pictured him bringing Rhonda along, suggesting a threesome. I shook my head to erase the insane thought away. No, this was my game now. My husband and his wench weren’t calling the shots anymore, despite what they might think.

The famous poet, William Blake, said it best – in love, there is a smile of love and there is a smile of deceit. Then there is the smile of smiles in which those two smiles meet.

Chapter 13

Gladys

“Honey Love?”

The warmth from the baritone whisper against my ear sent chills up and down my spine warming my entire soul from the inside out. I stood frozen, trapped in a moment of time, yearning for that moment to transform into years earlier when those two words meant safety and security. I was frozen as the familiar smell of mahogany overtook my senses. I didn’t want to turn around and face the owner of that sensual whisper and delightful warmth, because to look into the eyes of the owner of that voice would send me to a place that would be detrimental to my livelihood as I knew it. Oh, but how I’d craved to go wherever this man’s voice led the way to.

“You’re still as beautiful as you were the last day I laid eyes on you,” he said with his customary sultry swagger. He placed his right hand on the small of my back and gently massaged the tension building there.

Internally (at least it felt internal) my entire body had formed into a beautiful smile – the kind of smile that starts with your cheeks and works its way down to the skin of  your feet perking up every muscle along the way. I knew my face had to be perfectly rosy from surprise. I could feel myself slipping into a passionate fury, because this man – the man blowing his hot alcohol-tinged breath into my right ear – I have loved for years, even in his absence. Especially in his absence.

“Maverick?” I took a long breath and slowly turned to face my past lover. And boy was he as stunningly handsome as he was eight years ago at Albany State. Still, I was taken aback by how much he’d changed for the better. Once tall and slender, he was now tall and muscular with stout muscular shoulders showing even through his buttoned-down shirt. He looked as if he could have walked on as a starter for a NFL football team. As I allowed my eyes to slowly survey every inch of his body, the one thought that continued to cross my mind was how he sexy he was.

Seemingly oblivious that being in such close proximity to me was affecting me, his full and sumptuous lips began to move. I knew he was probably speaking words that I needed to hear to hold a normal reunion conversation, but I was tone deaf for the moment. His words were lost in the sauce as I took in another sip of my drink and glanced over his body taking longing surveys of the man that I had once called mine. He was dressed leisurely in a blue buttoned-down shirt, blue jeans and white tennis shoes, but his physique would look fabulous in anything. He was definitely sporting the ensemble he had chosen well. As I nervously held onto my drink, I imagined the mounds of beautiful skin underneath his clothes. Before I knew what had happened, the drink was completely gone, and I was sipping on air. The loud gurgling sound from my straw snapped me back into reality. It was then I could finally hear the words coming out of his mouth.

“Dang girl, I’ll buy you another drink. You don’t have to sit here slurping on that one until all the bubbles are gone out of it.” As he spoke, his dimples sank in on either side of his chiseled face. I melted into the floor. He let out a loud chuckle, and I couldn’t help but join in. I was positive that I had been making a fool out of myself, sitting there mesmerized and gawking over the sexiness that he exuded, without realizing the power he still had over me. I couldn’t help it. The man was fine enough to become somebody’s drug habit. I could see myself becoming addicted to him all over again. Not only that, I had received the pleasure of getting to know him intimately. I remembered our kindred spirits dancing as one, and how attentive a lover he was. I had not forgotten his tender touch, his passionate stare as he loomed above me, exploring my nether regions with his own.

I remembered how nice and considerate he could be for absolutely no reason at all. Flowers on Tuesday, just because, was nothing for him to do. I remembered how much he had loved me, once. More than that, my heart had never forgotten how much I had loved him. Some mistakes from our childhood we pay for with our entire lives.

Speaking of how good he once was to me, I realized that his sexy self had to have a woman somewhere. There was just no way a qualified chica had not snatched him up with the intentions of never letting go. No, not this hombre. He had ‘TAKEN’ written all over him.

Then my mind went there. I didn’t want to go there, but I did. Maybe it was the woman that he cheated on me with in college, I somberly thought. Even though I had never even met her, a vision of the woman I had dreamt up way back then found itself in my mind. I had pictured her to be an Asian woman with long jet-black hair down to her waist. Maverick had spoken a few times about wanting to study abroad in Asia, and I could just see him with an ornamental oriental on his arm. Suddenly, my mood was sour – like hot ‘n sour soup.

“I’m sorry, Maverick. You really caught me by surprise. Seeing you after all of this time, let’s just say it’s overwhelming.”

He took a step closer to me, tucked a stray curl behind my ear and said, “When I saw you sitting over here I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, because I was beginning to think I would never see you again.”

The words he spoke were completely innocent, but the passionate undertone that burned at a nice simmer in his eyes spoke in volumes. Volumes I was in no way prepared to handle. The way he said “…beginning to think I would never see you again,” sounded to me like he’d wanted desperately to see me again during this lifetime. However, I didn’t want to read too much into his statements. After all, I was a married woman so I couldn’t, in good conscience, follow up on statements like that. Attempting to turn the heat between us down a notch, I said, “Well, here we are. We meet again. What kind of business are you in town for?”

“I live in Miami now,” he said, taking a seat in the empty barstool beside me.

“Wow! What is the chance that the two of us would end up in Miami, at the same hotel, on the same weekend?”

“I come to this bar quite often, because they have the best bourbon chicken wings in town. But as far as chance, if you remember correctly, then you already know my theory on chance.” He nonchalantly smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Oh, I knew his theory all too well. “Nothing in life happens by chance. Everything we encounter has purpose,” I said, and had a quick impulse to grab for my drink, but he caught my hand before I could do so.

“Exactly.” He said, looking deeply into my eyes as if he was searching for something he had once left there. He paused for a moment allowing his theory to take its full effect on me. “You remembered.”

“Yes, what did you think I would forget?”

Instead of answering, he smiled and changed the subject with a compliment. “You are looking good. How has life been treating you?”

I definitely didn’t want to think about my life and how it had been treating me, so I shrugged my shoulders and gave a typical answer to his question. “I’ve been okay, and you?”

Maverick let his hand cover mine on the countertop. I attempted to act like I didn’t notice this, but the blush that was rushing across my cheeks betrayed my true emotions. He caressed my hand, his finger moving gently over my wedding band. The gesture was not lost on me. Then, he replied gingerly, “Just okay, Marisol? You’ve always deserved better than ‘okay,’ so I hope you are not settling for that now. You are an amazing woman.”

My next words caught in my throat, so I sat silent. Settling for “okay”, or the “okie doke”, in life was something that Maverick and I never believed in back in our college days, but that was when we were naïve college students. It was a new day and age where grown up responsibilities, travesties, and reality had set in. It was funny how things changed, but it’s called reality. That was the real world, not the ideal fantasies of two young lovebirds, philosophizing underneath the trees.

When I found my voice, I conjured up the enthusiasm to tell a convincing lie. “No, actually, life is great, Maverick,” I said, convincingly, nodding my head. Then, I switched to the one bright spot in my life that I could honestly sell him on. “I have two beautiful bundles of joy that keep me busy every day, a two-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son. Their names are Nazaria and Kelvin.”

“Really?” If I didn’t know any better, I would say a tinge of disappointment settled on his face with that news.

“Yes, and they are the reason that I wake up every morning – the reason that I work as hard as I do. They keep me going.” I nudged his strong shoulder, and asked, “Okay, how about you and yours? Tell me all about them.”

“What about me and mine?” Maverick asked abruptly, suddenly tensing up.

“Don’t play coy, Mr. Still-Fine-As-Hell. Who is the lucky lady?” I gently nudged his shoulder, again. I knew there had to be a video vixen tucked away somewhere. Or maybe his wife was the Fortune 500 executive type who was sharper than a thumbtack. Either way, I knew Maverick Douglas was not curling up at night alone. Anticipating his answer about a special someone and possibly children, I picked up my drink and took another long swig, hoping to quench the thirst that was building in my throat.

He somberly said, “I don’t have a lucky lady. Still a bachelor looking for that special someone to share my life with, ya know?”

“Excuse me, mister? You know you don’t have to lie to me. You can keep it real with me. I just knew someone would have snagged you up by now. There is no way you should be single.” I meant that. If I were still available, he would be my primary target of affection.

“There are many women that have tried to ‘snag’ me. I just haven’t found the right woman to share the best of me with. I’m not willing to settle for just ‘okay’ in life, ya know? I’m searching for the extraordinary. In order for me to make anyone my wife, she is going to have to take my breath away just at the mere sight of her.”

He once again covered my hand with his and continued, “There was this one girl that I was in love with once. Since being with her, I’ve never found another girl to compare. Unfortunately, I made a mistake when I had her. I was working so hard to make something out of my life – so that I could have something to give her – that I never got to show her how much I loved her. Since her, I haven’t been able to love anyone else quite the same. Now, she was the one – a woman that will always be special to me. If I had her by my side, I would be complete. I guess I’ve been waiting on the time that we would meet again, and I was hoping that if the stars were aligned just right when that meeting occurred, I’d have another chance at love.”

The depth of Maverick’s words touched me so deeply that I sat frozen, wishing that I were that invisible woman he spoke so affectionately about. If only he felt that way about me eight years ago, we would not be sitting here having this conversation. I would be Gladys Marisol Douglas with a house full of little amazing Douglas children. There was a time I would have gone to the ends of the earth for this man. However, it was what it was. I went with the flow and sat quietly, listening to him profess his undying love for this woman who had broken his heart. It was more than I could bear.

“I know that losing this woman was hard on you, Maverick. Trust me; I know the kind of loss you are talking about, all too well.” I took another sip of my drink, forgetting that there was no more liquid libation to satisfy my thirst, and slipped down out of my seat.

“I have an event that I’ll be attending in a few hours, so I guess this is goodbye. Until next time…” I said abruptly, hoping to get away before any more raw emotions slipped up on me that I wasn’t anticipating.

I didn’t have an anywhere to be in the next few hours, but the pure sight of him was more than I could bear. Hearing him talk about the special woman that had slipped through his fingers was more than an ear full. He suddenly looked panicked, as if he had lost control of the situation.

Instinctively, I planted a kiss on his cheek, allowing my lips to linger a few seconds more than what would be deemed cordial. The familiarity in our connection had me wishing I could take him back to my room and make love to him one last time. At that thought, I knew it was time for me to part ways with the quickness. Not only was he spilling his guts about some other woman, but I was married and visibly still in love with him. The whole scene was definitely not good for the soul.

“Take care of yourself, Mav.”

“You too, Marisol,” he said softly, avoiding my eyes and looking at the ground as our once intertwined hands gently slid apart. I quickly made a hasty retreat, careful not to look back.

Chapter 14

Shayla

To my surprise, Titus made a point of staying at home the rest of the evening wining and dining me, and acting like he had not just gotten down and dirty with Ronnie in our den. I impressed myself with my ability to hide my true feelings and slip into my own duplicitous disguise. With disgust rising in the pit of my stomach, I had to look at his conniving ass flaunt around the house, waiting on my every beck and call as if he was the husband I’d dreamed about many nights when he was away. We were lying in our bed after another round of amazing sex, where I had managed to divide my mind and my heart from my body, when he announced his latest plan.

“Shayla, I called The Pampering Queen over, so you have a manicure and pedicure appointment in the den at three.” Titus rolled over and placed his arm around me, a prideful grin covering his face. He was too proud of the arrangements he had set up for the afternoon to pamper me, as though a little nail polish would cover the deception he had used to taint our marriage.

“Oh, really, now? I just had Queen over here yesterday hooking me up. Don’t my toes look fabulous?” I maneuvered my body to stretch my leg out until my toes were inside of his mouth.

“Baby, everything about you is fabulous!” he said, before sucking on my big toe. “Don’t worry, I’ll cancel them, then.”

That’s right. Suck, you fuggin’ dog! That’s why I made you take a bath before you even THOUGHT about touching me again today. I absolutely cannot believe how two-faced you really are. You must be pretty proud of yourself. Two women on the same day, in the same house? You clueless jackass. My thoughts were vividly vengeful, but the sickly sweet smile on my face hid the venom I possessed inside.

He’d even planned a surprise trip to New York by private jet for us to attend a Beyonce’ concert that night. I accepted the invitation willingly, letting him spend money on me like tomorrow would never come. I thought about the fact that just days ago, I would have been on cloud nine enjoying this trip with my gorgeous husband, and now I could only laugh at his spastic actions.

Talk about guilt eating a man alive! Titus’ little guilt bug must have eaten half of his insides by the time we got to NY, because even more surprising than the impromptu trip was his suggestion to walk in the park, hand in hand, on Saturday evening once we had arrived. Madison Square Park was a nice change of scenery from the countryside in West Point, Georgia, and I took in every bustling minute of the fast city. I wasn’t going to let his wild indiscretions cause me to miss out on this great opportunity.

We walked and talked as if we were getting to know each other all over again, and I made a point of not giving him one inkling that I was aware of his sordid affair with Rhonda. I allowed him to do his best to woo me, and I took some consolation in knowing that Rhonda was missing him that weekend. I wondered if she was at home, pining for my husband at that very moment while we were laughing and gazing into one another’s eyes. I hoped that she was trying to reach him, to no avail, and that she felt the way I did all of those nights I sat at home crying all alone.

Saturday night, Titus and I relaxed in each other’s arms until the early morning hours in a five-star hotel that he chose because it was close to the airport. I was amazed that suddenly this man who had been so absent from our marriage for so long had finally decided to man up and show me some love – too little too late, I was afraid.

When we returned home on Sunday evening, we were pretty much holed up at home. To my surprise, Titus never once checked his pager and darted out the door, yelling over his shoulder, “I gotta make a run, Shay!” He never once called one of his boys over to hang out, play dominos, and smoke. I didn’t have to tell him to give his cell phone a rest and pay attention to me. He was all about us, and only us, for the first time in a very long time.

I allowed him to be the most attentive to me that he had been in years without once mentioning his trifling disloyalty. I put on a front as if I enjoyed his company that I’d longed for many nights before, all the while keeping his treacherous secret at bay. I soaked up every moment of my husband’s time that he had to offer, for I knew the time would come that he would have to get back to business as usual. Or was it that he was going to get back to lying about work and get busy sleeping with my best friend? The one thing that I didn’t want to deal with at this point was the elephant in the room – his inconceivable affair with Rhonda.

“Do you have to go to California tomorrow?” I asked him sweetly, once we had returned home from New York, and he stood in our massive closet packing his suitcase. I hoped to convince him differently about traveling to California to take care of what he called ‘pressing business.’ Ever since Street had called thirty minutes earlier, he had been hyped about getting to California to straighten out his money.

“Yeah, babygirl. I wish I didn‘t have to go, but I gotta take care of this messed up money situation. Fa Ya Grillz has an accounting issue that I got to go over there and straighten out personally. You know how niggas try to get out of line when the big dog is away?” He kissed my forehead, and added, “It shouldn’t take more than a day or two to get this straight. Then I’ll be on the first thing smoking back to my baby.”

He planted a kiss on my forehead and continued placing garments into his suitcase. After a few moments, he realized that I was still standing there, hands crossed, face tight, lips pouting, and visibly upset about his leaving so soon after just getting home. He placed his arms around me, allowing his hands to slither like a snake down my back to my hips.

“What? My baby wants some time with Big T before I go? Is that what you need, baby?” His lips found mine, and he lustfully kissed me as his hands traveled all over my body. I immediately pictured him feeling on Rhonda the same way. Hell, for all I knew, that was where he was headed right this minute. Make Big T cum for me, Ronnie, I heard him moan in my mind’s eye.

“No!” I pushed him away, still pissed that he was about to up and leave me alone when we still had so much to work out. “I do not ‘want some time’ before you go. I’m coming with you,” I stated matter-of-factly. There would be no more begging, asking, hoping, and wishing for things I wanted, but there would be more declarations, telling and demanding of him what I wanted and needed from that point on. I was going to be the one telling him what was going to happen in our marriage. Knowing that he was actively participating in an affair with Rhonda had changed the dynamics of this so-called relationship, whether he knew it or not.

I could feel my spine thickening, growing a protective layer that allowed me to stand on my own two feet. I didn’t know if I should thank Rhonda for jarring me out of my stupor, or kick her ass for crossing the invisible line in the sand that she had crossed ten miles ago. I’d watched enough situations like mine go down to know a man will dish out just as much as a woman is willing to take. And man, I had been good on the receiving end of the dishing with taking his bull for just about twenty-two seconds too long.

Thank God, my alarm had just went off. I’ze awake now. No more pressing snooze. There would be no more sleeping with my eyes open, not for Shayla Wilson. I also knew that even when a man had buried a woman completely up to her neck in stress and hurt that he didn’t have one problem shoveling a couple more inches of shit on top of her. I was not going to stand around and let Titus shovel any more of his shit in my direction. I was either going to be his Queen B, or the thorn in his side. At the end of the day, a woman has to be ready and willing to take care of herself – first. If she don’t or won’t, who will?

Clearly shocked and thoroughly irritated with my assertion, Titus stood there with his hands still suspended in the air in the same position they were in when he had wrapped them around me earlier. When he realized I was not joking, he tried to play me like he normally would. He didn’t know that the game had changed. “Go on with that noise, Shayla. You know you can’t come with me to handle business. Get me that blue shirt out the dresser, aight?” He turned away from me.

I stood my ground and stared at his back until he turned around again, looking annoyed.

“Shay, I said, get me that blue shirt, now. Quit playin’, girl. Don’t ruin a good day, okay?”

“I said… I’m…. coming… with … you.” I spelled it out, in case he hadn’t heard me the first time. Unlike any other day, I made no move toward the dresser to follow his orders.

There was an awkward moment that passed between us as Titus stared at me, trying to decipher my new attitude. Finally, he switched gears and decided to plead his case. He smiled and poured on the charm. “Nah, Shayla. I don’t think it is a good idea for you to come with me. Things might get crazy out here, and my first duty is to protect you, my Queen. I can’t let nothing happen to you. You stay here, and I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll come straight home, so you don’t have to hear nothing about me having to work right when I get back.”

Ignoring his tired attempt at ditching me, I grabbed my suitcase and said, “I’m tired of the bullshit! You are always playing me to the left. I said I’m going, and that’s final.”

To my surprise, he easily caved and said ambivalently, “Okay, get packed, and let’s go then, babe. But you’re gonna have to stay low key. I don’t want any of those trifling niggas out west to know I have my wifey with me. There is no telling what kind of move they will try to make.”

As I packed my clothing into my leather travel bag, I felt a smile a mile wide plaster itself across my face. I was feeling more like a woman than I had in my entire life. If I’d known all along that putting my foot down was so much more gratifying than wallowing in sorrow, I would have done so a long time ago. I had this tiny feeling growing in my gut that things were about to change for the better.

Chapter 15

Gladys

Saturday night, as I entered the masquerade ball, the scene was something out of an exotic fairytale. The room was lit by meticulously placed red candles on the counters, tables, and booths. The room exuded a sense of passion in the air that was the perfect setting for rekindling a love affair. It had all of the fixings for a naughty getaway. Lovers cuddled, laughed, and caressed each other with their eyes, their faces lit romantically by the red candles that burned in the middle of each table. Red streamers draped the ceiling, intermingled with strips of white lights. A sultry slow jam mesmerized the couples as wanting bodies moved to the rhythm of the beat.

I simply inhaled the ambience and tried to take it all in. I wished James and I could still share moments like this. I remembered when he loved me enough to take me dancing on Friday nights and romance me over candle light. He treated me like I was the only woman in the world that mattered back then. Where had the love gone?

The silky red mask with black lace striations that I chose to wear was a cute little thing with two fiery red feathers coming out of each side. It was a sensual addition to my sleek V-neck black dress and accessories by Kimora. My hair fell around my shoulders in a cascade of curls and the final touch, my makeup, was flawless. My look was screaming, “Attention, ladies and gentleman: Beyonce’ don’t have anything on me!” Yes, the fact that I had it going on sent my confidence level off the meter. Beyonce’ who? I thought, as I sashayed into the room.

Instead of immediately hiding myself away in a secluded booth, I decided to mix and mingle a little bit before sauntering to the bar in pursuit of a relaxing potion to totally unwind me. On the way to the bar, I spotted a person who looked like an old friend, Gloria Dennis. I was headed in her direction to speak when I glanced to the right side of the room and was taken aback. Shock took over my body and kept me frozen in my tracks.

“Dios mio! Sexy chocolate.” I sighed to myself as a masked male stripper danced and strategically removed articles of his clothing while gyrating his body sensuously to the music. Standing in a cage to the right side of the room, the stripper now wore only a pair of tight leather pants and a black leather face mask. When he did a handstand while doing a full split in mid-air, my mouth flew open, and he had my undivided attention. It wasn’t long before he was back on his feet and getting rid of his pants.

Okay, I see the party is about to begin…up in hurrr…up in hurrrr! I thought with a smile. Again, like I said earlier, “Brenda knows how to throw a party!”

I was so caught up looking at the stripper, I started to sway to the beat of his rhythm. I found myself wondering, What in the world have I gotten myself into coming to Brenda’s wild party? I had to question my judgment, because a whole lot of years and a month of Sundays had passed since I was out on the party scene like this without James. What kind of good trouble could I get myself into this weekend? At that moment, I understood why it was not good for married couples to be out clubbing and partying like this without their spouses, like James often did. That type of atmosphere was a setting for lust and guilty pleasures – not just lust but wanton lust. I could feel myself warping into a brazen sexy diva with each passing minute. Before I could pull myself from the forbidden thought of wanting to burst into the cage with that stripper and devour him whole, I submitted to the hypnotic trance of his fluid movements. I felt good!

“Martini on the rocks, please,” I told the bartender once I finally worked my way over to the bar, looking and feeling like a million bucks. I felt like I needed a cigarette, and I didn’t even smoke! I had forgotten all about going to speak to Gloria Dennis. Gloria who? That stripper had me on another planet.

When I looked around the room, I felt a twinge of awkwardness due to the masks covering the upper portion of most of the guests’ faces, making it hard to identify anyone who may have looked familiar. If Brenda were to walk right past me she wouldn’t have known who I was and vice versa. Come to think of it, if, by chance, Maverick was at the party, he wouldn’t have recognized me either.

That string of thoughts put a slight damper on my spirit, as I had held out a glimmer of hope that Maverick and I would have more time to at least talk before we parted ways this weekend. With my long lost love heavy on my mind, I slowly glided toward the bar. Placing my black rhinestone clutch purse on the counter, I asked for a cotton candy martini on the rocks. After about an hour and three martinis later, I had cased the party and was really feeling the vibe. I was starting to completely unwind. Moving on from the bar and into an empty booth next to the dance floor, I discovered the perfect spot for a good view of all of the male strippers in the various cages throughout the room.

As I reached down to pick up my glass and take another swig of my drink, I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck, as if there was a draft coming through the room. But this chill wasn’t like the kind you get from a scary movie. This chill was like the chill of excitement after your first orgasm. I could sense him even before he spoke.

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing sitting here alone?” His lips gently grazed my earlobe as he leaned down and spoke the words like butter melting in a skillet. His familiar baritone caused my lips to turn up into the biggest pleasantly surprised smile. As soon as I felt his body heat slide into the seat against me, I was in our zone. To say I was on fire would have been an understatement. In an attempt to diffuse my internal fire, I took that huge gulp of my drink that I was about to take before he walked over. Like déjà vu, the masked gentleman who had slid into the booth beside me intertwined his fingers with mine and warmed me to the core.

His mask was black with red stripes and though his identity was meant to be somewhat of a mystery, the familiar muscular physique that he so beautifully possessed was prominent through his midnight black suit.

“Mav…” I couldn’t even get the rest of his name out. I was stuck on stupid, seeing him for a second time in two days. I simply allowed our hands to stay intertwined and my mind and body to respond to his touch – sweaty palms, dreamy eyes, and aching in my soul to kiss, hug, and touch him all over. Instead of acting out my naughty thoughts or even acknowledging the amusing fact that we were sitting hand in hand staring deeply into each other’s eyes, I simply said, “So, I see red is still your favorite color, Mav.”

Yes, I took the punk way out and simply commented on the accenting color of his mask and cufflinks. He’d become quite fly in the way that he dressed, like a refined and distinguished gentleman, which was undeniably a turn on. Every second that he sat next to me staring through his mask, it was evident that the alcohol was working against my battle to maintain my composure.

“Red is our color, remember?” He said, removing his hand from mine long enough to tug at the red mask covering my eyes.

I decided to keep the mood light. “Yes, I remember our red knit sweaters we would wear in the winter, the red sweat suits, and the red shorts we had that matched. We were so corny.”

“I don’t think we were corny. I think we were just in sync with each other, Marisol.” A deep-set genuineness showed up in his voice again. Oh, he knew how to get next to the very fibers of my being, calling me Marisol, which was my middle name that only he used.

As my middle name rolled off of his tongue, I turned away from him, pretending to be engrossed in the beat from R. Kelly’s Feelin’ On Your Booty blasting through the speakers. The song choice made me smile and reminisce about when Maverick and I were younger and our complicated history together. It was a light and fun selection, but I knew that song could get things started on a whole ‘nother level. R-Kelly was gifted as he wanted to be, even with all of his perversions, and back in the day Maverick and I used to get down to every last one of his songs. As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, without speaking a word, Maverick stood, took me by the hand, and guided me to the dance floor. I followed without hesitation. The pulsating lyrics vibrated through the speakers and facilitated our movement as we swayed to the beat.

This is my song. For real, no doubt. Said the DJ is making me feel thugged out. As I walk you to the dance floor, we begin to dance slow. Put your arms around me. I’m feeling on your…

“Boo-oo-ootie!” Maverick haphazardly sang along, mocking R. Kelly as he got slick and maneuvered his hands down a little lower than they should’ve been. His body glided up against mine so close that I didn’t even care how silly he sounded singing. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the nape of his neck. I was going, going… almost gone to that place I had not been in years – amor. A place romantically and passionately every woman should go with a man at least once in a lifetime. Starving for that feeling once again, I was overwhelmed in the moment. Once Maverick stopped singing and squeezed me tightly in his arms, I made a move that my rational mind couldn’t comprehend. Raw desire trumping rational thinking, I laid everything on the line and asked him to my room.. I needed to feel like a girl who was wanted and desired at least one more time in my life. My husband had stolen the sexy vixen from inside me, and my eyes were pleading with Maverick to make her return. “Maverick, will you spend the night with me tonight?”

He looked down into my eyes, placed a soft kiss on my lips as if I were his, and said, “I plan to,” as if it was as simple as that. With that said, I melted into his arms with no thought about my life back at home waiting for me. I was there in that room with Maverick, and that was all that mattered. I had slipped back to my college days and was about to make love to the man that I loved. We continued our dance knowing that legally what we planned to do was wrong – dead wrong – but where was the law when James beat me? I was where I was supposed to be according to the law of attraction. The man who had always owned my heart would have the opportunity to caress it once more. My marriage to James was simply a covenant on paper. My spiritual bond with Maverick transcended any sheet of paper issued by any judge, and the best part was that it seemingly had never died.

***

At approximately midnight, Maverick and I left the masquerade party headed to his house. As we drove through the streets of Miami, traffic was slow, and the midnight air was calming. Fortunately, Maverick didn’t live far from the hotel. His home was a well-established beachfront condo nestled around South Beach. We had danced so much that my soles were aching feverishly, and I was ready to get out of my one-inch red pumps.

“Nice place,” I said, as Maverick opened the door, and his quaint abode welcomed me with open arms. With a brown leather sectional centering the great room that had a log cabin feel, I was thoroughly impressed with all of the beautiful knick knacks in the room. He had really turned his place into a home.

“I try,” he shrugged and offered me a seat on the sofa.

“Wow! What is this, a James Brown clock? You have a full-sized James Brown grandfather clock!”

He chuckled at my surprise, and we chit chatted about the life-sized James Brown shaped clock and a few other sentimental pieces he had decorated his living room with before I told him I’d like to slip into something more comfortable.

“James, it is good to see that you are doing well for yourself.”

“That makes both of us, Marisol.”

“Is there anyway,” I pointed down to my dress, and added, “that I could take a quick shower and slip into something more comfortable? This outfit is not as comfortable as it looks.”

“Sure, babe. First room on the left. I’ll bring you a t-shirt and a pair of my boxers too, if you like?” He asked with a sneaky smile.

I nodded and said, “That will be fine. Thanks.”

As I soaped up in Maverick’s shower, the water droplets felt like tiny fingertips sliding down my body one by one. I imagined his hands roaming over my skin with needle-tip precision. I looked down at his African body soap, a dark brown bar with a rich earthy aroma – Dudu-Osun – and smiled as I recalled how he loved to use this soap, even back in college. I hated it back then, always complaining that it left brown stains in the bathtub, but now it seemed to add the perfect touch. Like him, it was unpretentious, natural, and pure. After toweling off, I slipped into one of his oversized t-shirts and joined him on the living room sofa. He was pouring a glass of water when I walked in.

“Would you like a glass of water, babe?”

“Sure, I could take a little,” I told him, beginning to feel a little uneasy about being in his house, wearing only his t-shirt. I fidgeted nervously with my fingernails, all of a sudden feeling like a child in a foreign country. I did say that I wanted to spend the night with him. I reminded myself of ‘wanting and needing to feel like a girl who was wanted and desired at least one more time in my life.’ Wasn’t that what I had told myself earlier?

Once his eyes met mine with the reassurance that I needed to let me know that I was in the right place with the right person at the right time, all of the old emotions I held for him came rushing back to the surface. I knew there was nothing for me to feel guilty about. Memories of all the nights of hot passion we shared, all of the dreams of children, careers, marriage together, all the hopes and plans for our future brought comfort in being with him. How could I ever forget our destiny? This man was my soul mate – el amor de mi vida. It’s not cheating if it is with your soul mate, I told myself. That type of thing is just meant to be. There are some affairs that are just pointless, but then there are those matters of the heart that trump every last holy-rolling guideline in the affair book. This one was one of those matters of the heart that was unexplainable. I reasoned that there were certain raw emotions and passion that right all wrongs, in all circumstances. Those that make the breath we breathe more nourishing to the lungs and the food we eat more nutritious to the body. Some things were just meant to be, right?

After placing the water jug back into refrigerator, he once again joined me on the couch and tossed back his cup of water in one gulp. “All of that dancing made me thirsty,” he said, with a big long ‘ah’ after he finished drinking the water down.

“I know, right?” was all I said, before taking a few sips of my own drink.

He stood up, took my glass from my hand, and planted kisses on my neck, followed by a passionate kiss on the lips. When he finally broke the kiss, he held me close for a moment. I teasingly pushed away from him and sat back on the couch. “Your shirt is soaking wet from all that sweating you did while we danced tonight. You need to hit the shower too, young man,” I cooed.

Knowing one of my nervous gestures was to change the subject, he ignored my statement and came back in for another kiss allowing the warmth of his mouth to send another wave of heat through me. “You never had a problem with me being sweaty before,” he said, as he pulled his lips from mine.

“Yeah, but you’re wet.” I took him by the hand and said, “Come on, and let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” I was glad that by now I knew my way around his place enough to get him to the shower and then the bedroom. I guided him until we were walking down his hallway. When we were standing directly in front of his bed, I turned to stand facing his tall frame towering over me. Unbuttoning his shirt slowly and drinking in every contour of his chest, I removed his top and then the t-shirt underneath, leaving his hairy chest bare. I tenderly kissed his chest before he tilted my head toward him and kissed me fervently on the lips.

“I…I…I…” I wanted to say the words, but he pulled me close and wrapped his arms so tightly around my waist that I could barely breathe. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The words were caught in my throat. Instead of helping me out of my Ebonics crisis, he pressed his tongue into my mouth, drowning out all thoughts and unspoken words. Heat traveled down through my bones.

“Maverick!” I finally was able to speak.

“Yes?” he said, moving his kisses to my neck, lifting my shirt over my head and tightly gripping my behind.

“I’m supposed to be getting you out of these wet clothes and drying you off.”

“Well, I’m not trying to get you dry. Jesús dulce, usted no está usando ningunas bragas, Marisol,” he said, as his wandering hands made note of the fact that I was not wearing any panties under the oversized tee. He knew talking dirty to me in Spanish would push me over the edge, because I loved it when he’d speak in my native tongue to me. “Te amo,” He said ‘I love you’, and I felt like a woman granted an all-access pass to the world at large. Being there with him didn’t seem wrong at all. To the contrary, it felt like it was meant to be, as if even in our separation, we’d never spent a day apart. I pushed him back onto the bed where we both stayed until sunrise, thoughts of him taking a shower pushed to the farthest recesses of my mind.

Chapter 16

Rhonda

Sitting in my doctor’s office, I had to do something in order to keep the voices in my head from driving me crazy. of the fact that Titus and Shayla had run off to California for Lord knows how long together to do Lord knows what had me in a tailspin. He had some nerve taking her with him instead of me! Now he was out there showing Shayla off like she was the trophy piece! Ever since their plane left the ground, I had been a total wreck. I still could not believe that he took her to California to handle business with him. That was our spot – the only place he would take me that I would be able to be his number one. When we would get away to handle his business for Fa Ya Grillz, not only would I shop at some of the best stores in Beverly Hills, but I would be flaunted around on his arms in front of to his friends and acquaintances. All of the people that worked at the shop knew me as his main woman. That was my time to be ‘wifey.’ The thought of Shayla showing her high yellow-ass up and playing my position made me physically sick to the stomach, which was why I was at my doctor’s office for a checkup. I had been throwing up and coughing all weekend. To top that off, I was having a problem with my periods being irregular – something I’ve been plagued with since my teens. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t about to lose my sexy being pregnant.

“Ugh! I hate that bitch!” I said clenching my teeth tightly together, as another wave of stomach pain kicked me in the gut responding to my upset. Either I had to get something for my upset stomach or get my birth control pills changed, again. Ever since the doctor started me on a new brand last month, I had been cramping, nauseated, and hurting something serious. I placed the magazine in my lap and sat very tense and still until the pain subsided.

Titus must have really been upset about me disrespecting Shayla, because he hadn’t called or texted me all week. Hell, I knew he had to be a little weak after the number I pulled on him in the den. I knew he would have been over our little misunderstanding if he wasn’t running around trying to play the perfect husband. I wondered what Shayla had done to get him to take her to California with him. It had to be some sort of damsel in distress trick she pulled because I couldn’t imagine her putting her foot down and making that nigga account for his time. It just wasn’t in her timid ass, so he must’ve just been soft on her for a minute. No problem, I knew how to get him back on my track.

With my stomach pain subsiding, I picked up the Essence of Color magazine from the magazine rack. I skimmed through the pages until I found an interesting article about healthy relationships and how to have lasting friendships. Good, something to occupy my mind for a minute, I thought laughing at the irony of my situation and the reading material in my hand. This writer was on a roll talking about friends crossing the line, cheating, and a variety of other provocative topics. The part that got to me was this:

“When evaluating the reason you are not as close to your friends as you should be, you must stop and ask yourself, has my friend changed or have I? Just because the climate changes doesn’t mean the people on the land have or ever will. We all know that change can be a good thing, but what is most important to note when evaluating change is whether it is you that has changed or has your setting changed. And is the change for the better?”

I looked up from the article and looked around the room to see if anyone else in the room was understanding what the fuck this dumb writer was trying to say. Talk about talking all around a subject. This writer was a moron. But anyway, the article went on to say:

“A fool in a forbidden love is incapable of being a good friend, for they will do anything to savor another moment of the sweet nectar of love, even if it means crossing once beloved friendships out in the process. The urgent need to remain in a sense of euphoric bliss is the number one cause for the death of budding friendships of yesterday. A lot of young women get caught up in the moment and play down some of the hurtful things that they do to their friends, but the fact remains is that they are toxic to some of the very people who care about them the most.

Have you ever heard the saying, you can take a woman out of someone else’s husband’s bed, but you can’t take the mistress out of the woman? Well, now that you have heard it, what do you think? Even women who have committed terrible atrocities toward their fellow sisters can make strides to change their behavior and redeem themselves once they realize that the environment or climate hasn’t changed, they have simply crossed that unthinkable  imaginary line and betrayed their friend in the worst way a woman could by sleeping with her man.

In closing, I want all of my readers to ask themselves, have your actions left any of the people you once loved drifting off into faint memory, simply dangling in the wind with disconnected or hard feelings, and more importantly, what can you do to repair your friendships?”

A moment of truth attempted to tug at my subconscious. The fact that I was upset about my best friend being on a trip with her husband, the fact that I would sleep with said friend’s husband any opportunity I got, and the fact that I truly loved her husband ran through my mind within that moment. But I was convinced that I was not the problem between Titus and Shayla. They had their own problems – the main one being that they were not meant for each other.

“I should start writing articles for EOC if this was the best they could come up with,” I said loudly, and threw the magazine down onto the table with the rest of the know-it-all publications. I knew then why I didn’t subscribe to those kinds of magazines. Some experts can be too preachy, even when they don’t know jack shit about love or friends. I loved my friends the best way I knew how, all of three of them – Shayla, Gladys and Titus. It was just a different kind of love, so I wasn’t trying to hear what the writer wrote in that article. For a minute, I sat there stewing about the harmless words of the magazine article as if they had jumped up and slapped me in between my eyes with the force of a moral hurricane. I pulled out my mirror case from my cosmetic bag and took a look at the woman staring back.

“I can’t help who I love. I love my girls, but I love Titus in a special kind of way. It’s not like I had planned to be all sprung over him like this. It just happens to be reality, and I don’t know how to reverse it without losing the part of me that he has awakened,” I said, looking hopelessly into my mirror. The woman in the mirror had no response.

A soccer mom looking white woman sitting beside me looked at me like I was crazy for talking to my mirror. She held her little Tommy close to her as if she thought he would catch whatever mental disorder I had. I shot her a what-you-looking-at glare and then commenced to searching through my purse for something else to keep me occupied than talking aloud in the waiting room.

I put my mirror back in my cosmetic bag and took out my cell phone to check for text messages. There were none. Not even one raggedy ass text from Shayla. I silently hoped that she had not found out about Titus and me. After all that had happened, Titus may have broken down and decided to come clean. I doubted it, but then maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Then, he would be able to stop living his lie and be with me for good.

When the nurse finally came out and said, “Ms. Jackson, you are up next. I’ll come and call you on back so that Dr. Swanman can see you in less than five minutes,” I decided to make a quick call to Gladys, who was back at work. I wanted to see how her trip to Miami had been. Eager to get my mind off of my own dilemma, I was happy to hear her bubbly voice when she answered on the first ring.

She beamed brightly with a big ole, “Hello! It is a great day at Naytek Corporation, Gladys speaking. How may I assist you in your consulting needs?”

“Dang, girl. Work it then,” I said, laughing as I spoke. I tried to sound full of energy and optimism and not like the two-bit, jealous, home-wrecking friend I was beginning to feel like – thanks to the Essence of Color article, of course. I put as much pep in my voice as Gladys had. “Hey G, how was your trip? I know you were turning some heads down there with that sexy two-piece we picked up at the mall last week.”

“Girl, I had so much fun. How about I didn’t turn many heads, but I did turn one particular head. Wait until Shayla gets back, and I’ll tell you who I ran into at the hotel looking finer than three Morris Chestnuts in speedos!”

“Aw snap, now you’ve got me curious. Who?”

“I said, I will tell you when Shayla gets back from California.”

“I can’t wait. Tell me G!”

“Ah, well take one guess. It’s the last person you would ever expect.” She must have known that I was drawing a blank, so she added, “From back in my college days at Albany.”

No way, I thought. I knew that if she had run into the man I thought she was talking about, she was in trouble. Good trouble. “No way, you ran into Maverick Douglas?”

“Hell yes, that’s exactly who a sister brushed up with this weekend,” she said, with more life than I was used to hearing from her. I could imagine her pearly whites spread across her face through the phone. She was smiling, showing her full set, and from the sound of things, she had a good reason to be smiling.

When she was attending Albany State, Maverick Douglas had been the alpha and omega for Gladys. She was so in love with him that when she did come home on break, he was all that she talked about. She even picked out names for all of their unborn children. That’s how gone my girl was back then. He brought out the best in her, and when they broke up, she got so low on herself that she ended up settling for her trifling ass abusive and cheating husband, James. Because she’d broken up with Maverick without giving him a chance, she gave James all the chances in the world to prove himself to be a jerk. I had always wished she would give the man that really cared about her those chances, though. Her running into that man this weekend was major.

“Oh my God! Tell me what happened. Did he say anything to you?”

“Did he? An earful. But you know the weirdest thing was that his touch, feel, smell, sound, and taste had the same stronghold over me as when we were together. And did I tell you he is so damn fine with his muscles! Ai, Dios mio… Lawdhamercy.”

“Did you just say his taste, or was I hearing things? Girl, don’t even answer that. I hope you got in a lot of trouble this weekend. The whole weekend. Every waking minute!”

“It was good seeing him again,” she said losing some of the pep in her voice and quickly changing the subject. “How did Shayla’s big surprise shebang she planned for Titus turn out? Or has he turned her loose yet?” Gladys chuckled, as if she had told a fabulous joke.

“Titus didn’t come home Friday night. Shayla’s upset. The usual,” I said, uninterested in going over the details of the past weekend again.

“Damn,” Gladys said concerned. “I know my girl is hurt about that. She was really excited about spending that time with her husband.” I could have sworn she put emphasis on ‘her,’ but maybe I was hearing things. After all, creeping will give you a temporary case of paranoia at times. When I didn’t say anything, Gladys continued, “She called me Friday morning all happy, bubbly and everything. Ready for their time together. He just never seems to do right, so we gotta keep praying for our sister that she find the happiness and peace she deserves.”

“Yeah, always.”

“I tried to call her when I got back, but all I got was the message on her voicemail about being out of town. Hopefully Titus is showing her a good time. Maybe he’s making things up to her. She deserves it.” Gladys sure was laying the Shayla love on thick today. Frankly, it was starting to bring back my stomach pains. She had always been all up Shayla’s booty since we were kids.

“Well, I’m going to let you get back to your work. Love you.” I tried to cut her off.

“Love you, too.”

I hung up the phone feeling a little bit better knowing I was at least able to be a good friend to Gladys. There was nothing wrong with me or my capability of being a friend, so the Essence of Color article I was reading had to have gotten it wrong. I’d be happy for Gladys if she got back together with Maverick and finally dumped James. The pictures she had shown us back in the day of Maverick were incredible. I couldn’t believe how handsome he was, and I always thought they would make a good couple. Unfortunately, I had never met him in person, but I may get my chance after all.

I was a good friend. I never dished out anymore than I could take. I glanced at my watch and wondered what was taking the nurse so long to call me to the back. Five minutes had come and gone.

Chapter 17

Shayla

The morning after we got back from California, I woke up and started my morning stretches. I was pleasantly surprised that the last night’s sleep had been so restful. I felt refreshed and ready to face my day head on. Thanks to my husband having other things on his mind than sleeping, I had only gotten four hours of rest the night that we got home. With my morning routine complete, I sauntered into the bathroom to wash my face.

The bags from my shop ‘til I dropped spree were scattered about my dressing room. The sight of all of the bags that we had to pay extra to fly on the plane ride home made me decide that today, instead of complaining about the things that I did not have, I would celebrate the luxuries that were mine. In my wildest dreams, I would not have imagined living large to this magnitude. I was truly blessed. With a huge smile spread across my face, I declared, “Today, I’m going to pamper myself some more, so that I’ll be looking hot and sweet when I see my boo-boo tonight.”

Yeah, after all of the quality time we’d spent together lately, I was ready to upgrade his cheating behind back to the status of my boo. Maybe all we needed was more time to bond and get him out of the clutches of my so-called best friend. Within an hour, I had dressed to impress and was leaving the beauty shop with this cute little crinkly number that Titus loved to see on me. After leaving the salon, I went to the Chinese nail shop and got a quick pedicure, manicure, and a replenishing facial. The only stop left is to Victoria’s Secret to pick up a sexy teddy for tonight, I thought. When I arrived back home Titus was sitting in the den watching TV. I couldn’t even describe the joy I felt having him at home waiting on me for a change!

“Hey, baby!” He beamed as he stood up and walked to the door to meet me. He took my bags from my hand, placed them on the floor, and lifted me up to his height, so that we were eye level. “Damn, you’re lookin’ good as ever, Shay. I missed you so much while you were gone, baby. I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.” He moaned and kissed my lips between words.

Even though I knew there was a great chance I was living a lie, I had to admit that it felt good having this Titus home, at last. This was the man I fell in love with on the high school grounds back in the day – the man that made me feel that it was only me that made his heartbeat. In the back of my mind, I feared that his recent change was only temporary, but I was going to enjoy it for what it was worth while it lasted.

“Come on, and show your pretty self off to Daddy, Mama,” he whispered in my ear. He licked his lips and added the cherry on top. “You don’t know how much I been missing you, do you?”

“I have an idea, but I have something special planned for you, so you’ll have to wait before you show me,” I said, slightly protesting the fact that he seemed to be rushing things.

“I know you do,” He squeezed my butt in the palm of his hands, and said, “and it’s right here.”

“No, Mister T.” I wiggled away from his grip and shook my index finger from side to side. “Don’t spoil my surprise. Give me thirty minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be right back.” With that said, he eased me back onto my feet.

“Aight, but girl, don’t make me wait too long.” He moaned deeply again, and reclaimed my soft lips before letting go. “Go on and do what you’re going to do, and I’ll pour up some of that wine we got from the refinery in Cali while I wait on your sexy ass to get back downstairs.”

“Cool,” I said, before dashing upstairs. Twenty minutes later, I sauntered into the room wearing a red lace bra, red G-string panties, and a pair of fire engine red six-inch heels. My lipstick was a fiery red, as well, but it was the spark in my husband’s eye as he sat in the dimly lit den that I planned to ignite. I could see his chest rise and fall with measured breaths as I walked toward him. It was nice to know that the sight of me still made his breathing erratic.

Using the remote control, Titus turned off the TV and pressed the button to turn on the CD player. Sexual Healing by Al Green gently glided through the speakers, which was the perfect song for the occasion. He was too anxious to wait until I finished my teasing walk to greet him, so he stood up and met me half way. He took me into his arms, kissed my neck, and then placed butterfly kisses all over my face.

Looking around at my den, for a brief moment I could see in my mind’s eye Rhonda’s mouth receiving my husband’s offerings. I had to get out of that room before I was unable to go through with my plan of forgiving and forgetting the despicable things Titus had done with her. I could feel the pain building up behind my eyes, threatening to reveal itself through my tear ducts. I was like a prisoner needing a change of venue – quick! Slowly and sensually backing away from him, I pulled the red whip from the back of my g-string and said, “Upstairs, Mister!”

***

Later that night, I was sitting at Mama Rosas waiting to hang out with my Sisters From Another Mother - I guess we could still be called sisters. From the looks of The Jerry Springer Show, even sisters did evil things to each other, like what Rhonda had done. However, it was Gladys’ idea to have a girl’s night out intervention, since we had not done so in a month of Sundays (a long time for the three of us). She said that she had lots of details to share with us about how things were going with her and James since she got back from Miami. She also had some news to tell us about a special someone. I couldn’t wait to get the scoop!

Apparently, James had been straight tripping, acting all lovey dovey, and trying to be nice since she had gotten back from Florida. She texted me the other day and said that James had been laying it on thick and heavy, talking about taking her on vacations and the whole nine. The Florida sun must have worked wonders on my sister for her husband to be ready to do all of that for her. She wanted us to get together, so that she could discuss all of her issues. I could not imagine what would be the problem, since her husband was finally getting his act together.

I was game for the evening out with Gladys and that other thang of a friend, especially since Rhonda had no idea that I knew about her and Titus. What she would know by the end of the night though was that me and hubby were in a new place in our relationship. We were happy, no matter how she felt about it.

Gladys chose Mama Rosas as our spot to meet up this time, a central location where we could meet and enjoy some of the best soul food in the southern part of the map. I was glad that she chose Mama Rosas, too, because I had mad respect for the people that owned the restaurant. Talk about starting a family business on nothing but a dream, and attracting customers from all over the United States! Plus, I was sure that I wouldn’t bang Rhonda’s head into a wall there, just on the strength that I respected Mama Rosa.

I was the first to arrive at the restaurant, fifteen minutes early, by design. I wanted to be able to choose the booth closest to the window and place my drink order before Gladys and Rhonda arrived. In just fifteen minutes, I was going to be sitting face-to-face with the woman who called herself my friend while, at the same time, was secretly enjoying the flavor of my husband’s body. It would be the first time I had seen her since that dreadful day I had heard the two of them going at it in my home.

I prepared myself for the phony get together, practicing fake smiles and genuine friendly gazes. I had a plan to bust Rhonda’s trifling tail wide open, but it would not be today. The most aggravating part about it all was the fact that she hadn’t called or came by our house since I caught her and Titus that day. She didn’t have a clue that I was on to them, but I could tell that the fact that Titus was spending more time with me was making her tart towards me, as well. Truth be told, she really didn’t give a damn about me from the get go. As always, it was all about her.

I knew that Gladys didn’t know anything about Rhonda’s dirty deeds, because Gladys had made her opinions on mistresses sleeping with married men very clear over the years. She had a disdain for “those thieving putas,” as she liked to call them. All of the heartache that she had experienced with James made her overly sensitive to the issue. Plus, I knew that if Gladys had ever caught wind to the fact that Rhonda was doing anything with Titus, she would have told me in a heartbeat. Gladys was a loyal friend, unlike some people we all knew.

Once I got settled into my ‘happy face’ look, I checked my phone and saw that Titus had texted me three times already. One time to tell me that he missed his ‘sweet love pot.’ The second time to tell me to hurry up and get back home, and the third time was just to say ‘I love you.’ How sweet of him! I thought. Or was it knowing that I was about to hang out with his secret girlfriend that was causing him so much angst that he had to keep checking in on me through millennial technology? If that wasn’t guilt, I surely couldn’t think of a time before that he would text me back to back like that. Perhaps he was worried that Rhonda would let something slip with me? With that on my mind and heart, I didn’t even bother to respond back. I had just

placed my phone down on the table when Gladys walked in, sounding all happy-go-lucky.

“Hey, Sister-from-Another-Mother!” My girl’s face was lit up like a Christmas tree. She looked so gorgeous basking in her new glow, smiling from cheek to cheek, hair flowing down her back and silky, and wearing a colorful sundress with matching sandals. It wasn’t like she didn’t always have a nice and neat appearance, keeping her hair, nails, clothing, and shoes on point. However, the new glow about her made her seem to brighten under the restaurant’s lighting. She looked like a brand new woman with highly lifted spirits.

“Hey, you! You are looking gorgeous than ever. Your man must really be putting it on you!” I got right to the point. There were only a few things that could make a woman glow like that.

“Does it look that obvious that I have un nuevo amor?” she smiled, and slid into the seat beside me and gave me a one-arm hug. “Si, chica. Si! He is putting it down. I’m putting it down. We both are putting it dooooowwwwn.” Gladys, giggled, at her use of slang and gave me a high five. I could see for the first time in years a contentedness surrounding her like a well protected fort – the kind of happiness that is impermeable, where nothing goes in or out without your permission. Silently, I was happy that she had made it to the restaurant before Rhonda and that her seat selection was beside me, because I sure as hell didn’t want Rhonda sitting next to me with her negative vibes.

With the seat next to me taken, Rhonda would be forced to face me directly, which is exactly where I wanted to keep her from then on – in front of me. Not beside me, and definitely not behind me with the big knife that she was carrying around ready to stab a sister. I was going to keep her in clear view until I could only see her in my rearview. “Wait a minute, did you say nuevo amor? I know my Spanish is a little rusty, but girl, that means new!”

Gladys just rolled her eyes and turned her head to the side, meaning ‘hell yes.’

“OMG! Girl, now it all makes sense. Your trip to Florida. Girl, somebody else is putting it down, or James has really stepped his game up, because you look happier than I’ve seen you in years. Which one is it?”

“The first, and I look happy, because I am happy. I see that Ronnie hasn’t told you who I ran into in Miami.”

She sure had not given me any news about Gladys and that probably was because she was too busy trying to screw my man. That’s what I thought, but I simply said, “No, she hasn’t.”

“Oh, we have some catching up to do. At least we know that girl can keep a secret!”

I smirked, thinking, you have no idea, Gladys. I thought about using this time that we had alone to tell Gladys about the drama that was unfolding in my home, but this was neither the time nor the place. Gladys had amazing news to tell me, and the issues with Rhonda would only ruin this day for everyone. No, the time would come, and when it did, Lord help Rhonda Grezille.

For the next ten minutes while we waited on the always fashionably late Rhonda to arrive, Gladys filled me in on the details of her time in Miami. She told me about her dilemma of deciding between a life of stability for her kids with James or happiness for herself with Maverick. She was torn between the two. Gladys said that she felt like she had let not only James down by cheating, but would also be letting her kids down if she decided to leave James and move them in with Maverick, the man that she truly loved.

“My goodness, Gladys! I didn’t know that you had all of this on your plate. It will take some time, but we will get you through this. Trust me.” I touched her hand and assured her that she was not alone. Just about the time she finished telling me about her time in Florida, Rhonda sashayed her conniving tail into the restaurant wearing a Louis Vuitton cat suit, expensive sunglasses, and a matching Louis Vuitton purse.

It was the same outfit that I’d purchased for myself last Friday when I was planning the special evening for Titus. She told when we were in the store shopping that she didn’t like the outfit and that ‘it would make me look pudgy.’ And now she had the expensive ensemble wrapped around her small frame. I’d always wondered who her financer was for all of the pricey things she owned, and now my answer was loud and clear. I tensed up for a second, but then glanced in the opposite direction to prepare myself to face her.

I could not believe she had the nerve to step off into Mama Rosas wearing that same damn outfit! I couldn’t wait to bury her ass alive with her trifling ways on top of her. Had I not caught her cheating with my husband, I’d still be sleeping on the way that she hated on me. Her day was

definitely coming, though. She was on my radar, and as a matter of fact, Titus was on my radar, as well.

“Hello, Sisters from Another Mama!” Rhonda beamed with artificial joy when she looked at me, as if she was actually glad to see me. I forced the most convincing smile I’d ever smiled upon my face, but she really had me messed up in the head standing there acting like it was business as usual.

“Hi, girl,” Gladys stood up and gave Rhonda a quick hug with a back pat greeting. I watched the exchange and my stomach turned at how phony Rhonda could be. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhonda hadn’t thought about dipping with James before, either – if he was more her type, she wouldn’t have thought twice about being one of James’ whores. Rhonda slid into the booth in front of me, and said, “Hey, Shayla. What – are you not speaking?”

I just continued smiling and looked her dead in the eye without a word. Obviously recognizing that I hadn’t acknowledged her with anything other than that forced smile, she asked, “Okay… So, how did you and Titus enjoy your trip to California?”

“Well, honey, I’m glad you asked. It was lovely, every minute of it. Titus took me to just about every landmark in Hollywood and shopping on Rodeo Drive was to die for. After my shopping spree came the fun part. We rode a trolley ride, which took us on a tour of some of the most influential stars homes. But that’s not even what really took the cake. What took the cake was when hubby surprised me with tickets to P. Diddy’s All White Affair. Oh, honey, our entire time there was one beautiful experience after another, if you know what I mean.”

I took the opportunity to rub my time with my husband in Cali all the way in her face. Once I rubbed it in good, I scattered, smothered, and covered her face with it. I gave Gladys a high five for added effect while adding all kinds of ‘honey chiles’ and ‘that man, that man.’ Truth be told, there wasn’t that much great about that man except the fact that he was mine, but I would not let Rhonda know that I felt that way. I made sure I put emphasis on the beautiful experience I had with my husband, and tried to look as starry eyed as I could. I wanted her to know that everything she thought she could do for Titus was for naught. “He kept telling me how much he loved me, and how he’s never had so much fun with someone in all of his life. I don’t know why, but he kept repeating that. Like, ‘Shay, you don’t even know how good it is to be with you. No one makes me feel like my wife does.’  It got embarrassing after awhile, you know?”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Rhonda said quick and conveniently changed the subject. “Well, we’re here to help our girl solve her issues, so I’m assuming you told Shayla everything?”

“Yes, I just told her about it before you came in,” Gladys said, looking back and forth between Rhonda and me. I was hoping she wouldn’t mention the snide remarks that I was sure she noticed Rhonda and I shooting off towards each other. A blind person could see that there was tension that could be cut with a knife between us.

“So, what are you going to do about meat head James?” Rhonda asked, moving the conversation along. “He is such a dog!”

“And what would you know about a man being a dog? Is it that you know a dog when you see one?” I couldn’t help but ask her trifling ass. I know I was supposed to be keeping the fact that I was through with Rhonda on the low-low, but her sitting here in my face like she wasn’t in my den sucking my man off less than week ago was boiling my skin.

“Huh?” Rhonda and Gladys asked at the same time, but Gladys decided to answer Rhonda’s question to avoid the tension, “I-I don’t know, Rhonda. My heart says leave him and don’t look back, but my conscience tells me that I will regret it.” Gladys spoke to Rhonda, but kept her gaze fixed on me questioningly.

“Well, here are some things for you to think about. One, you’ve only spent one weekend with Maverick. While you may have known him well in college, fast forward to eight years later, and you don’t know him from a can of paint. Sure, you had a beautiful and magical weekend with him, and all of that is nice, but that doesn’t mean he is man enough to take care of you and your kids. That also does not mean that he is sane and not some crazy stalker dude that will end up worse than James in the long run.” I had to give Gladys some news that Rhonda’s airheaded ass would be too naïve to tell her. Of course, she was on Cloud Nine after a weekend with Maverick, but eight years can really change a brother.

“Shay has a point,” Rhonda agreed, and actually looked for a moment like she cared about our sisterhood. I noticed that she was avoiding my eyes, concentrating solely on Gladys.

“I know that he could have changed, but Shayla, you didn’t experience what I did. You didn’t see the genuine sincerity flow from his soul to mine. When he kissed me, when he said my name, and when he whispered Spanish love messages into my ear until I went to sleep, it was all real. He is the same man I was in love with then, if not better. The feelings are still there and are super strong, just as strong as they were back at Albany. I know I’m mature enough to know the difference, but for the sake of my children, I will take it slow. Hell, if it were just me and no children, I would be calling you guys from Florida right now.”

I turned to her intently, hoping to get through to her, and said, “Well, if the feelings are there and have never left after eight years of being separated, they will be there next year and the following year. Those feelings are not going anywhere anytime soon, especially after what you shared last weekend. Therefore, you can stand to hold out a little while longer before you up and divorce James, uproot the children, and move to Miami because of one great encounter. Come on, Gladys, you are a smart girl. Put your thinking cap on. ”

With that cheesy grin that was starting to irritate the fuck out of me on her face, Rhonda opened her mouth to speak, and I knew she was about to come out with some bullshit. She said, “Yeah, you ain’t got to be trying to run down there and marry his ass. Why not just creep with him? You know, get your groove on in Miami once a month or something like that, and keep James back at home. Maverick could even come and meet you up here sometimes. There are ways to handle your business on the down low, ya know?” Rhonda raised her eyebrows as if she was giving a hint, and that was it. I was about to snatch her a new asshole right across the table talking that shit about creeping. The nerve of her to be giving advice on how to creep when she didn’t have the sense enough to take her creeping with my husband outside of my home. On the

inside, I was boiling like an overcooked weiner, but I kept a cool head and didn’t say a word.

“I guess I could get my creep on,” Gladys mumbled, ambivalently searching herself for a better answer, so I gave her a better answer than creeping.

“You could do that, or you could just finally divorce James and enter into a slow and calculated relationship with Maverick. Get to know him all over again. Date him on the up and up, and get a feel for the full grown man that he is now. Let your kids get to know him, and let him grow on them. Then you can make your next move. Don’t end up being some sideline ass, because you didn’t do things the right way. You’re not some low class skeezer jumpoff that has to take that route, Gladys.” I shot Rhonda a look as I said the last line, because it was for her to comprehend.

Seeming to direct her response more so at me than Gladys, Rhonda said, “Whatever you decide to do, make your next move your best, because when you find something good like what you have with Maverick, you will have to take the bull by the horns and just go for what you want – no matter what or who the obstacle is.”

That sideline ho was speaking directly to me instead of Gladys, talking about taking what you want by any means necessary. That was it; I was done with ever looking at her like a sister of mine. She had crossed every imaginary line in the sand that I’d drawn. She was officially on the enemy line, I would have to keep her under close watch until I figured out how exactly I was going to proceed in my marriage. We talked back and forth for another hour or so, coaching Gladys on her situation.

I was glad that she had found someone who did not treat her with the level of abrasiveness that James had, but in situations like hers a woman had to be careful. She didn’t know enough about Maverick to know if he was still a good choice to gravitate towards. She didn’t know if James would turn into a ticking time bomb when he found out she was leaving him for another man, either. All of her options had to be carefully considered. I took a good look at my two friends’ situations. Gladys was creeping around on her husband, who was constantly creeping around on her. Rhonda was sleeping with my husband, who was creeping around with my best friend. Was I the only one in my inner circle without a secret?

Chapter 18

Shayla

“It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few are shocked by deceit.” That was an amazing quote that I read last week by Noel Coward and as I mapped out today’s events I found it rather fitting. On the first and third day of each month, Titus and his crew worked in overdrive flipping cash and collecting monies due to them. These were the days Titus had dubbed as his fundraisers. They were the days that most of their customers got paid, so in essence it was their payday, as well.

I loved the first through the third, not because of the money, but because I didn’t have to worry about Titus or any of his goon heads tagging along behind me or snooping around in my business, especially if I wanted to go somewhere. I got out of bed early, around seven in the morning, brushed my teeth, and poured me a tall glass of water. I have a few things to check up on, and if my suspicion was on point, today would be as good a day as any other day to set things off the right way, I thought.

After showering and applying a nice body butter to my skin, I dressed in a peach form-fitting tank top, Bermuda Gucci pants with the matching Gucci black shades, Gucci purse, and Gucci shoes, to boot. Back in my bedroom, I surveyed myself in the mirror and did my rendition of Jay-Z’s ‘Ya Girl is Back.’ I was a natural born showstopper.

“Sorry, haters, ya’ girl is back,” I said to no one in particular, with swagger pushing one hundred and twenty percent. I collected my purse, keys and shades from my dresser and hit the road. My naturally wavy hair bounced in the wind as I crossed the Alabama-Georgia line on I-85 headed in Lee County’s direction. The crisscross twists that my stylist had designed in the front if my hair were absolutely gorgeous.

This was it. This was the day of reckoning. It had finally come. The reason for my early morning rising and outing? I had not heard from Rhonda in three weeks, nor had I heard from Titus in two days. I had a pretty good notion that Rhonda’s house would be where I could find my husband. My destination was to her upscale townhouse division on the north side of Auburn – Regis Square Homes. Every time I asked her how she could afford to live in that townhouse, she would say, “I have my ways.” Yeah, I bet she did have one way. Mr. Wilson – my worst half.

For the first time since I caught him red handed with Rhonda last month, Titus hadn’t bothered to come home or call for an entire weekend. And when I called him – just like the bad ole’ days – my calls went straight to voicemail. I’d called Street to find out what was going on, but he only assured me that Titus was okay. He gave me some lame story about Titus saying that he would be out of touch for the weekend, because he had some business to handle on the west side. If that was true, then why couldn’t he just pick up the phone and tell me that? I could tell Street was caught off guard when I had called because he had a hard time putting that story of no substance together.

I sent up a silent prayer as I pulled into Rhonda’s apartment complex, praying to the God above that I would not find my husband’s car on the lot. “Lord, please don’t let my husband’s car be in this parking lot. Please Lord, keep them honest, if only this once. Lord, hear my call.”

Hoping for a tiny bit of leniency from the powers up above, I prayed that neither of my husband’s cars would be in my best friend’s parking lot. This was the first time in years that I had gone out checking behind Titus. I had learned that this type of behavior only led to heartache in the past.         Unfortunately prayer wasn’t enough to stop the treachery. As sure as shit stinks, his car was not only on the lot, but it was parked directly in front of Rhonda’s apartment door as if it was his own personal parking space. These muthafuckas just bold with their little fling! I thought. I knew that if Titus was comfortable enough to flaunt his affair with Rhonda at least half of the town, if not everyone in town, knew about it.

I sat in the car in a daze with my eyes fixed on Rhonda’s front door. In my mind, all I could see was Titus pinned against Rhonda’s living room wall as Rhonda gave him another Super Head job, like the one I witnessed on my security tape. Titus had the security system installed in case someone got froggy enough to want to break in and was dumb enough not to even think about erasing the security video after his little indiscretion. The video had been what verified what my eyes didn’t see. Obviously, Titus had forgotten all about the security cameras in every room in our home, probably because they were not installed for the purpose of making sex tapes like the one he and Rhonda starred in. Men are so sloppy with their cheating.

Derrick Simmons was on point with his movie, Women Do It Better. In affairs, women damn sure don’t tend to leave a trail of bread crumbs leading their husbands right to the scene of the crime in the middle of the crime. When a woman gets caught cheating, it’s because she was ready to be caught – ready to give up the marriage or relationship, anyway.

Knowing that Titus was so sloppy made me wonder, how did I miss all of the signs in the first place? I must have had a permanent pair of blinders on. I knew Rhonda could be scandalous, dating back to high school when she tipped under the bleachers with Carlton and thought I didn’t know about it. It wasn’t like I was in love with that boy, but it was messed up that she had sex with him and didn’t have the decency to tell me about their little escapade under the bleachers. We told each other everything, but it took a random female to tell me about the Carlton ordeal. She just wanted to give me the heads up on Rhonda.

At the time, I didn’t want to believe it, and so I minimized it. But like they say, what’s done in the dark always comes to light – when you least expect it to. As I thought about it, as long as we had been friends, as soon as I told her that I liked a dude, she would start catching some kind of feelings for him. Once a snake always a snake! Sitting in the car hotter than the first round out of a shotgun, I yelled, “This should be an interesting confrontation. I hope they’re ready!”

Once my heart rhythm returned to normal and my breathing went from erratic to near calm, I shut off the car engine and gave myself a once over in the mirror. Finding the confidence to complete my mission, I gave myself a quick pep talk. “Go on and handle your business, Shay. What they are doing is foul,” I told myself.

I opened the car door, got out, and walked toward Rhonda’s front door. I knocked and saw the blinds quickly rise and fall, but no one answered the knock. After a minute or two of beating on the front door, I still got no answer. My blood pressure was shooting up, and I was seeing red.

I knocked harder this time, screaming, “Ronnie, I know you’re in there, so open the got damn door, bitch! And tell my trifling ass husband to get out of there, now. Both of you cheating and conniving bastards are not worth the air you’re breathing!”

There I said it, without warning and unapologetic. My true feelings were in the air. And “it” whatever “it” was, was about to be set off. Then I heard noise that sounded like people bumping into furniture inside of the apartment. Oh, to say I startled them would be an understatement. I knocked again, but this time more calmly. Attempting to steady my voice, I bellowed, “Your cars are out here, Titus and Rhonda. Plus, I saw you peeping out the blinds, Rhonda, so open up this door! Face me like a woman.”

Even though I knew the real reason that I was standing in front of my best friend’s door banging and cursing like a wild woman, I had a twisted hope that I would find out that Titus wasn’t actually over Rhonda’s house for what I thought he was. I almost wanted there to be some sort of lame explanation for him being gone away from home for two days. I wanted him to tell me something believable regarding why I found him at Rhonda’s townhouse. The thought that I would now get the hard truth was still too painful to bear. To manifest that thought fully to the end would be giving in to the reality that my husband was having an affair with the woman that had been like my sister since I was a child. The commotion I was causing outside of Rhonda’s apartment door must have gotten Titus’ attention, because I heard my husband’s groggy morning voice ask, “What’s that noise, baby?”

To say that I was enraged hearing him ask her that question would be an understatement. Suddenly, the rage blew up inside of me, and before I knew anything, I was full body ramming the door repeatedly with all of the force I had in me. If things were about to go down like I thought they were, I was about to lose my natural born mind. “Open up this door, Rhonda! Titus!” I demanded, banging as quickly as my little hands would move. I heard Rhonda tell Titus, “It’s her.”

“Who?”

“Shayla.”

“Shit!” Titus said, and then had the nerve to open the door like he was the man of the house. He was calm and collected, as if he was supposed to be there at 9 in the morning. “Heeeeeyyy, babe! What are you doing over here?” he went in for a kiss and stroked the loose strands of my hair back into place. I quickly yanked back and shot him a disgusted look.

“What am I doing here? That’s a neat trick, muthafucka! The question is what are you doing here? And don’t act like I don’t know you’re sleeping with that tramp that calls herself my sister.” I turned my attention to Rhonda. “You have worse things coming to you in life than eating second off my plate. You are messing with God’s child and screwing over your blessings, which is the worst thing you could ever do to yourself. I was a true friend to your low life, trifling self. For years! I loved you like you were my blood, and gave anything to you I had. This – sleeping with my husband – is how you repay me?”

Taking control of the situation, Titus stepped in front of me, but by that time I was all in Rhonda’s face. I wanted her to say one wrong word, and it was going to be a massacre in her high-priced townhouse. Instead of saying anything, this heifer, standing there in a pink negligee, threw her hands in the air, turned away from me, and walked off.

“Oh, no you didn’t! Don’t you walk your tramp ass away from me. I’m not done with you yet. You’re always trying to walk around acting ghetto, so get ghetto bitch! I will show your evil ass how it’s done for real.” I tried to push my way around Titus to get to her, but he grabbed my arm.

“Shayla, calm down. You’re out of line.” He started stroking my hair again, as if he possessed the power to calm me down. I knew then that he had me messed up, too. I yanked my arm nearly out of the socket to get it away from his hold.

“Negro, please! You have not been home all weekend, and I find you at Rhonda’s house early Monday, calling her baby?! She’s wearing practically no clothing when you open her front door. Is this shit supposed to be normal?”

I shot Rhonda a your-ass-is-mines’ look, because as soon as Titus wasn’t standing between us, I was going to school her on messing with your sister’s man. I then went back to reading Titus like a book, “All bright and early Monday morning, you’re over here and got the nerve to ask me what I’m doing here? What are you doing here nigga? Don’t even answer that. I know the answer!”

From the looks of Titus, I would have guessed that that he was just stopping through. He was fully dressed in his black Ecko T-shirt and jeans, black Timberlands and Atlanta Falcon cap. But Rhonda’s pink silk negligee that barely covered her torso told the true story. While Titus was holding me back and attempting to talk to me, Rhonda had gone to her bedroom and came back up the hall wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. And she must have put on some nerves in her bedroom, too, because she jumped in the conversation I was having with my husband, saying, “Shayla, you are so over reacting, as usual, sweetie. Calm down, and let the man speak, and maybe you’ll know something. Otherwise, you are going to have to keep it moving with the drama, and get up out of here.” She yawned and acted completely bored with my whole façade. She stood in my face like everything was honky dory after she just had a pink negligee, shear robe, NO PANTIES, and some hot pink stilettos on! Dressed like a straight hooker with my husband at her house… early in the morning… after he’s been gone all weekend… and after she sucked him off in my living room! This outfit was definitely not what friends were for.

Oh, and don’t you just hate when someone calls you “sweetie” in the middle of a disagreement? Talk about patronizing. They actually wanted me to believe that I was the one acting crazy. No, it was Titus and Rhonda that were ready for the Oscars, but I was about to show them something.

In rare form, I stepped out of the sandals I was wearing. I was a millisecond away from going to work on Rhonda’s scurvy ass when I grabbed a patch of her hair and said, “You really don’t know me like you think you do!” She squirmed around trying to get out of my grasp, begging me to stop. She tried to assure me that I was the one who had it all wrong.

“There is nothing going on here, Shayla. You are making a mistake. Let me go. It’s me, Shayla, your girl.” She lied through her man-sucking teeth.

With all of his strength, Titus maneuvered my fingers out of her hair and said, “Calm down, Shayla! Now.”

“Fuck you, Titus,” I screamed, outdone with the whole situation. These bitches had me twisted.

“Shayla, babe, don’t talk like that. That’s not you. Plus, you need to slow your roll, and get back in place, babe. Quick. You do remember who you’re talking to, right?” He took my hand firmly, coaxing me back to the reality that I didn’t want the situation to get too far out of control where the police were called, and we were all arrested. “Now, if you will take a few minutes to listen, I will tell you why I am here.”

When I was quiet for more than two seconds, Titus took the opportunity to offer up his explanation. “Rhonda has been helping me plan a surprise birthday party for you. This morning, I was on my way home and swung by here to give her this money for the entertainment. I’m getting Joe to come out to sing to you.” He held up an envelope with money in it and looked at me like I was supposed to get excited about the news. My temples were throbbing, and I was still ready to bust a cap in both of their narrow asses.

When I didn’t show any emotion, he continued, “I can’t have nothing but the best for my baby, and Rhonda is helping me with the plans. Now you’ve gone and spoiled my surprise party.” Titus licked his lips and intertwined his fingers in mine, nonchalant like he didn’t have a care in the world. I knew he and Rhonda thought I was the biggest ass in town, but this little act of his beat all. A surprise birthday party? Yeah right! What was this, some 1980’s television sitcom?

I was so exhausted from fussing with the two of them that I decided to play along with it, for now. At least they knew I was on to them and had my game face on, which was the purpose of my visit. I didn’t go over to Rhonda’s house to lose my husband. Much to the contrary, I went over there to take him home. I collected myself and decided to play the game until I figured out just how to get these two back proper.

“You came by to give her money for entertainment, huh? Are you sure you didn’t give her money for her entertaining you. I mean she was dressed in her hooker clothes.” I looked at Rhonda and added, “Just like hookers do.”

“Now you wait a damn minute. Don’t come in here throwing accusations around in my home. I ain’t sleeping with your husband or even trying to get down with him like that. I can hardly stand him as it is, and you know it! He came over here to give me the money and begged me to help plan a party for you, so there is no reason for you to take whatever insecurities you have out on me. This is your husband and something he’s trying to get together for you, so you handle your business with him at your house.” Pretty darned convincing. If I didn’t know any better I would have believed every word coming out of her mouth. My best friend was a pro. I could smell the essence of the truth in the air. If I didn’t have a video tape proving they were sleeping together, I would have jumped in and cosigned with the both of them and swore down what they were saying was the truf – not the truth, but the truf.

Prying a little more, I told Titus, “It sounds a little shady, considering that you usually handle your own business, Titus. Tell me what is going on, for real. Make me feel better about this.” Despite the evidence I already had, I was open to accept one more of his explanations. I desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were before the money went to everybody’s heads. I wanted to reach the man in him that knew the true meaning of love. I wanted my friend that knew the meaning of friendship to show up in the room. If either of the two were to appear, God would have truly been working on my team at that very moment. I needed Titus to say something that would give me the strength to destroy the tape, start over fresh, and wipe the slate clean. All of that hoping and wishing that he could form the perfect words to say was diminished when Rhonda let out an exasperated sigh.

She said, “What are you trying to say, Shayla? Don’t beat around the bush. For once in your life, come on with it.” Was she ready to lay all of the cards on the table? Five minutes ago, I was ready, but her invitation to a battle of the words might reveal more than I could handle. The look on Rhonda’s face told me she was tired of the cat and mouse games, as well.

“You heard my wife,” Titus said, stepping up in an attempt to nip the exchange in the bud. He put an extra emphasis on ’wife’ as if he was clearly making the point for her sake to fall back. “My baby wanted to know what’s going on, so she gets to know what’s going on. Whatever wifey wants, wifey gets. It’s just too bad I had to spoil the surprise party, but it’s all good.” Titus glared at Rhonda silently daring her to say another word. I knew that look, so their exchange was irritating to watch. Actions definitely spoke louder than words.

Then he took me by the hand and said, “I have been missing you this entire weekend, and then you come up in here acting up. I see we have a lot to talk about when we get home.”

Fed up to my neck, I slid back into my sandals and took my husband’s hand that he offered without uttering a word. The two people that were supposed to have my back in the world were still performing surgery on my spine with their double-headed dagger. Titus’ little façade of acting like he missed me was something to watch. As far as I was concerned, Titus and Rhonda crossed the line from friends to enemies over a month ago. It was sad that sometimes we still love our enemies.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked out of Rhonda’s apartment hand-in-hand with Titus. He was my husband, and as sad as the situation was, I still loved him. The fact that I was successful in coming there to retrieve him from Rhonda’s claws, even though I knew that they were still scheming, was enough for me at the moment. Knowing that she would be pissed that he was going home with me, yet again, gave me a sense of satisfaction. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my husband yet. I wasn’t ready to show my hand. When I was good and ready to let them know that I wasn’t half the fool they took me for, I would, and not a moment before.

Chapter 19

Gladys

I didn’t even run into Brenda the entire weekend I was in Florida. Ironically, every time I dialed her cell, it went straight to voicemail. Nevertheless, I could not help but think about how my experiences there really had revived a sister back to vibrancy. I felt alive, free, and energized like a woman born again. I had been happy and free to be me for a change. Finally, I was able to track Brenda down and thank her for the party invitation and free hotel that she had provided during my trip to Miami. I had dialed her cell phone, and for the first time, she picked up on the first ring.

“Hi, Brenda! It’s Gladys. Girl, I must tell you that your setup in MIA was off the hook! The party was fabulous, and it’s a shame I didn’t run into you the whole weekend. I tried calling you while I was there, so we could meet up! Thank you for inviting me, the hotel set up and everything.”

“Excuse me. Girl, what are you talking about? I wish I could take the credit for throwing what sounds like a bomb ass party in Florida, but I haven’t been to Miami in years.”

“Huh? You just threw a party down there two weeks ago for our college classmates. Remember, the masquerade party at the Fontainebleau Resort? Heelllooo?” I dropped the pencil I had been holding onto my desk and stared intently at the phone as if it had some explaining to do. I remembered running into several of my African American studies classmates while in Florida, so I knew Brenda must have been pulling my leg. There was no way she was senile enough to forget her own party.

“No, Gladys. Chica, you got it wrong this time. As much as I’m dying to travel, I haven’t been outside of New York City in three years. They have me down here working like a Hebrew slave getting things in order to get my new study program off the ground. It has been all work and no play for Brenda J.”

Rubbing my temples to relieve the stress pains growing there, I asked once more to be sure, “So, you didn’t send me an invite to Miami?”

“Um, that would be a negative.”

My voice began to tremble as the weirdness of the situation sank in. “Okay, well, thanks for clearing that up. I guess I have myself a little mystery to figure out. I have an idea of which direction to aim my investigation, though.”

“Good luck with that. In the mean time, help me spread the word by letting all of your friends know about the African American Leaders of the World study program that will be going global soon. I will send you an email with further details to share with the other execs at your company. This is an exciting progressive movement that I know your company will want to cosign on as it will undoubtedly bring more exposure to Naytek.”

“As soon as I get the info in my hands, it’s a done deal, girl. I will get the information to the CEO. She is very progressive and always looking to help other black businesswomen. I will get back with you on the details when I’ve talked to her.” With that said, we said our goodbyes. I was so dazed and confused with the information she had just laid on me that I let the phone slide back onto the console on its own. As I was known to do when I had a dilemma on my mind, I decided to call Shayla. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello,” she answered, sounding much less than chipper. I could hear water running and dishes moving around as if she was doing some cleaning.

I took a deep breath and said, “Shayla, honey, are you sitting down?”

“Oh, no. Should I be?”

“Please sit down, so you can help me sort some things out. First of all, you will never guess what just developed when I called Brenda Jackson to thank her for the Miami getaway hookup.” I stood up and walked over to look out of my large office window. Cars thirty feet below were bustling through the digested Atlanta downtown traffic. Everyone knew exactly where they were going. Yet, I was stuck in place in my office wondering what my next move would be.

“What…. what is it? Did she invite you to another one? Because from what you told me so far, Stella’s groove is already back. If you mess around and go on another one of her trips, there could be wedding bells ringing even though you’re already married. Just make sure he ain’t gay like Stella’s man, okay?”

While allowing the realization that Brenda had not invited me to Miami sink in, I contemplated how to tell my friend the news. “No. It’s nothing like that. Brenda wasn’t even the one that invited me to the party.”

“Huh?” Shayla turned off the water that was flowing in the background, and her line was completely silent.

“I know this sounds crazy, but when I called her to thank her just a few minutes ago, she was completely clueless about the whole Florida thing. She said she had not been out of New York City in three years, so there was no way she could have invited me to a party in Miami.”

Still speechless, Shayla only said, “Oh,” It was apparent she was just as confused as I was about the whole ordeal. “I see,” she sighed when the hazy details appeared to sink in.

“So, you see that I have quite a maze to figure out – like who concocted this whole Brenda-Jackson-is-throwing-a-party-in-Florida deal. I have a pretty good idea of the direction to start out in, but I do not know why he would try to get me down there under false pretenses.”

“Maverick?”

“Exactamundo!”

“You think he set the entire weekend up?”

“At first, I was surprised at the coincidence that we ended up in the same place at the same time with the same amount of passion burning for each other, but now knowing that Brenda didn’t set it up stacks up against coincidence.” I walked back to my chair and solemnly sat back down burying my head into my free hand.

“How would you feel if you knew he was the one that arranged it all, using Brenda’s name as an alias, to get you there?”

“I don’t know how to feel about that. I’ll know how I feel after I call him to get this cleared up.” I was about to say my goodbyes, but Shayla cut me off.

“Do you want to know what I think you should do?”

“Sure, what would my sister do?”

“First of all, I think it was a very sweet gesture of Maverick’s and knowing that he set the entire thing up makes for a nice setup of a romantic tale. Setting him up to sweep you off of your feet and steal you away from your everyday grind to give you a magical weekend… A weekend that you said yourself you will never forget. I think you should be happy that he cared enough to do all of that for you is what I’m trying to say.”

“And Shayla, trust me I am happy. But this changes the dynamics of everything. Sure, it’s a sweet gesture, but I’m the type that likes to know what’s up without too many surprises, you know? If he’ll lie about something as special as our reason for reuniting, what else has he lied about?” That thought touched a chord. My mind was full of questions, and my heart was tugging in different directions. Should I be happy? Should I be sad? Is it possible to be both at the same time? I could feel a sense of déjà vu coming upon me – was I finding another reason to get angry at Maverick just when things were going well, just like back in college? Could I be setting myself up for a fall again, possibly risking losing the best thing to ever happen to me besides having my children?

“Well, let me know as soon as you talk to Maverick. On a lighter note, make sure you are at my surprise party Saturday, bright and early, and dressed to impress. I need you there, because I don’t know what Rhonda and Titus are up to exactly.”

“I will be there, and don’t I always dress to impress?” We laughed at the inside joke. Shayla was always teasing me about the way I dressed. Then, she became silent and I realized I was the only one laughing.

“Gladys?” she asked, sounding as if something was bothering her suddenly.

“Yeah, honey?” I asked, wondering what could be the matter.

Instead of answering, she quickly brushed it off, and said, “No comment.”

“Are you sure you don’t have something on your mind, Shayla?”

“I’m sure. I’ll talk to you later,” she said before adding, “love you.”

“I love you, too.” And with that said, we hung up. I had a important call to make to Mr. Douglas.

Chapter 20

Shayla

Waking to the sound of the doorbell ringing, I rushed into my robe and slippers. Sleepy eyed, I walked down the stairwell to answer the door. I peeped through the living room curtains and saw a Rent A Pool Guy truck in the driveway. There was a man holding cleaning supplies standing in the doorway looking too happy for it to be only seven in the morning. Despite my irritation, I kindly called out through the door, “May I help you?”

“I’m Anthonio, Tanya’s friend. Your husband hired me to service your pool today.”

“Damn,” I whispered under my breath, as I disabled the alarm and unlocked the front door. I was too tired and sleepy to be dealing with pool maintenance this morning. Then I remembered Titus had wanted to have the pool area serviced before my party this Saturday. The early morning visitor was a Hispanic young man that sounded too chipper to be out doing his job so early in the morning. His Spanish roots were evident as he spoke. His shiny black hair was pulled back into a cute little ponytail. “Oh, that’s right. We were expecting you,” I lied, because I had completely forgotten. Titus told me about the new pool guy’s appointment after I had pulled him out of Rhonda’s apartment, but no sooner than he told me I had forgotten. I suppose I had bigger fish to fry that day.

His baby cousin, Tanya, referred Anthonio because he was one of her classmates at the local community college. He did maintenance as a side business along with working part time at a local department store. Titus liked the young man’s hustle, so he hired him to clean our pool area up for the party to give him some extra business. I invited him in so that he could get his job started, knowing the quicker I let him in the quicker he would be leaving.

Once he stepped into the foyer, I could not help but to check him out from head to toe. He was young, built nice, and easy on the eyes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wilson! How are you doing today?”

“I’m fine, you?”

“I won’t complain. Which way is the exit to the get to your pool area?” he said, in a chipper singsong tone. It was only his voice that snapped me out of internally sizing him up. He really was a cutie.

“Oh, where are my manners? Good morning to you, too, Anthonio. It’s right this way.” I pointed in the direction of the pool and sauntered ahead of him in the direction of the patio side door. I don’t know why I thought about it, but I wondered if he was watching the way my hips sensually swayed from side to side as I walked. “The pool is out this door. When you want to come back in, ring the buzzer, and I will come down and let you in.

From the look on his face, he had been watching me walk. After getting him squared away, my plan was to go upstairs to get dressed, but [see what had happened was] instead I decided to sit in the patio window and watch him perform the maintenance on the pool. After all, I had to make sure he did things right since this was his first day on the job. A tiny voice in my mind told me I should carry on just as if the older old white pool guy who did the job before Anthonio was there. But I ignored that voice and watched Anthonio’s hunky tight obliques, covered by perfectly tanned skin, accompanied by sexy muscular hips put in work for the next few hours. I even had the nerve to pop a bowl of popcorn and sit in my lounger, watching him like a movie.

At one point, the sun beamed down so hard, he took off his t-shirt, exposing his firm chest that was covered only by a white wife-beater. When he took the shirt off, I couldn’t take it any longer. I got up to go take a cool shower and get dressed. I had to have a change of scenery before I did something foolish.

When I returned back downstairs, I took him a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade so that he would not get dehydrated. I didn’t know what he was used to where he was from, but I was ready to introduce him to some southern hospitality.

“Anthonio, you have been working nonstop since you got here. Take a break and have a glass of lemonade with me.” The sunshine reflecting off his skin was only second to heaven itself. Yes, that would be his nickname from now on Sunshine. The fact that fantasizing about him being my sunshine could only lead to trouble helped me to push the thoughts to the back of my mind and go on about my business. “On the second hand, I know you have a lot of work to do, so I’ll just leave a glass of lemonade on the patio table for you to drink whenever you’re ready for a break.”

His face lit up as if a cool drink had been just what the doctor ordered. “Thanks, Mrs. Wilson. I’ll take a quick break now.”

“Okay, well, I’ll be on the inside if you need anything.” I quickly sauntered into the house ready to get out of arms width of this hunk of a man. Three hours after he had started the job, Anthonio was finished and rang the buzzer to come back inside.

“We didn’t leave it in too much of a mess, did we?” I asked, knowing that a bad thunderstorm had destroyed the pool cover two months ago.

Flexing the muscles in his chest, he said, “I had my work cut out for me, but I got the job done.”

“And you did an excellent job, so when can I expect you back?” My face turned flush red with embarrassment as soon as I asked that question. The man had just completed the job and lo and behold if I wasn’t trying to get him back over to do it again. I didn’t know if the starry-eyed look I gave him when I asked the question was enough for him to think that I was crazy, but I sure felt crazy asking the question.

“I could come back next month for a routine check, but it looks like you’ve been taking great care of the pool. Even with the cover being destroyed, it wasn’t in that bad of shape. Plus, with the bottom being made of marble, it won’t need that much professional care.” He wrote some numbers down on his receipt book and then handed me the bill.

“I’ll take care of this now. Wait here just a second.” I told him, before walking into the kitchen to get Titus’ checkbook. I wrote the check out for one hundred dollars more than the invoice amount and handed it to him. In the midst of the exchange, I allowed my hand to intertwine with his longer than a usual transaction.

It was then that he suggested, “Unless you need the pool cleaned out sooner than my one month check? I have no problem coming back over here as many times as you need me to.”

Overwhelmed with nervousness and confusion, I quickly said, “I’ll just see you next month,” and gave him a cue to leave.

“Okay, you have a beautiful day, Mrs. Wilson.”

“You, as well,” I said, ushering him to the door. As soon as I closed the door behind him, I exhaled a deep sigh. “I have too much confusion going on in my life right now. Please, send me an intervention, Jesus!” The only person I could think of that I could lean on at the moment was Jesus. I made a mental note to be in the first pew on church this Sunday. It had been months since I saw momma, so I knew she would be too ecstatic to see me at church. Searching my heart of hearts, I knew the Godly thing to do would be to bring my friends with me. They both were fighting their own demons. We all, in one way or another, were fighting demons and losing the battle four to nothing.

Gladys had made her decision to file for a divorce. She said it was not so that she could be with Maverick, but because she needed to be away from James’ abuse. The fact that Maverick was back in the picture didn’t hurt either. I agreed with her decision wholeheartedly, knowing that one day James’s deadly threats would be a reality. When he had finally gone one step too far, raising his hand to her in front of her daughter, she took his death threats seriously and filed for divorce. The last thing she wanted was for James to show Nazaria that men should beat her, or worse, kill her. That was not the way she wanted her children to learn how to love. I was proud of her for making that move. She had never told me that James had been physical with her before, but when he made that drastic mistake, she called me in tears and revealed the whole story. Thank God she was finding the strength to take herself and her children out of that situation.

As far as Rhonda, she was calling less and less, if at all. She apparently was irritated that Titus was spending more and more time at home again. Gladys had not figured out completely that Rhonda and I were on bad terms, but she did tell me that Rhonda had been going back and forth to the doctor with stomach pains. I could care less, because I wasn’t calling Rhonda at all to check up on her. I couldn’t fake the funk about our friendship, no matter how hard I tried.

Chapter 21

Rhonda

“Girl, what is your problem? You have been acting tart towards me all day,” I said, and I know I sounded annoyed. It was the day of Shayla’s birthday party, and she was up in her kitchen acting as if her shit didn’t stink – throwing dip bowls in the sink and moving around me as if she had not heard me say a word all day. “I didn’t have to set up your little stank party, especially if you were going to treat me worse than the help!” I added, letting her know that I didn’t care much at all for her attitude.

Shayla just took a moment to meet my eyes with a steady gaze and an emotionless expression, then continued to prepare the drinks for our waiting guests. I let out a deep breath and grabbed a wine cooler, drinking half of it in one long gulp.

“Whatever…” I huffed under my breath. If she wanted it to be that way, it could be that way. Since Titus had given the phony story about throwing her a party, I reasoned that he had to follow through with it. Titus and I had slaved like big dogs trying to get this “surprise party” organized in one week’s time. He managed to pool together his resources and connections to get the singer Joe to come out and do three songs to set the night off right.

I was on pins and needles, waiting anxiously for Joe to get his sexy butt to the house. I’d been to several concerts for performers I liked before, but I’d never had the opportunity to mix and mingle with a star of his caliber in an impersonal setting. This was going to be a treat! Maybe Joe being here would cheer Shayla’s high-rolling butt up. We were all in the kitchen preparing drinks, because it was the only quiet place in the house that wasn’t swarmed with people. Shayla was walking around in this cute little Baby Phat sleeveless dress number acting as if she didn’t know me from a can of paint. I noticed she talked to Gladys, but to me – nada.

Also, I’d noticed for the past month or so that she really had been on point with keeping her look tight. There had not been one time that I’d seen her that she’d dressed average. My girl really was on point with her shit lately with not one hair strand out of place. I loathed that she’d stepped her game up so much, all of a sudden. Even though I wouldn’t tell her, she definitely had it going on. I knew how much Titus cared about her deep down, and by increasing her sex appeal, I was sure that he was taking notice. The one thing I had always had over her was my raw sexiness, and Shayla was starting to step on my toes – that wasn’t cool.

Another nagging thought was the reason that she’d popped up at my house last week showing out like she had. She obviously was on to something that she wasn’t admitting. A real woman never spills all of her beans when other people expect her to, and Shayla was holding something in. She was definitely messing up my groove with Titus, though. I was just about to give him one more round to take on the road when she blew up my spot.

While she stood at the sink chatting away with Gladys, I glared at her, wishing I could erase her from existence with my thoughts. Ever since she caught us like that, he’d gone back to brushing me off and talking this mess about me needing to “play my role”. She was becoming more of a nuisance intruding on my turf: my man, my apartment, my life, and had the nerve to be talking shit while she did it. If it wasn’t for Titus, I would have put it all on the table that morning. I was so tired of her that I wanted to let the cat out of the bag and let the cards fall where they may. At the same time, I wasn’t trying to be stupid and lose the man I was fighting so hard for in the beginning, so here I was playing the game again.

Within a week’s time, we had managed to invite two hundred guests, and it seemed like everyone we had invited had brought along a friend or two. There were two spades games going on in the den, and Street was on a winning streak, betting anyone that thought they knew how to play that if they sat down as his opponent they would leave the table minus a couple of Gs. I could tell Street did most of the invites, because there were women for days walking around barely dressed and all tatted up like gangsta boos.

People were in the living room, dining room, hallway and a few in the kitchen with us, but the pool was where most of the action was. Alcohol was plentiful, and the smell of dank filled the house and back yard. The party was typical of a party thrown by Titus; nothing uptight or ritzy, just people, beer, liquor, food, dank, and chips – nothing but a G-thang, baby.

That was right up until Shayla pulled Titus to the side and chastised him. Shayla didn’t like it when Titus smoked in the house, so her corny butt was straight tripping on the other people smoking in the house. As soon as Titus walked into the kitchen the first thing she said to him was, “Titus, baby take these drinks out to the cooler.” And when he reached her to take the drinks from her hand, I peeped her saying to him in a low tone, “And you need to tell your friends no smoking in the house.” She didn’t think anyone else would hear her scolding him, but I was all up in the Kool-Aid.

Shayla raised an eyebrow, and I started grinning from ear to ear. I just knew that this would be the moment that he would go off on her, telling her to fuck off and leave a nigga like T to his business. I waited for the fireworks to go off, ready to stand up for my man against that bourgeois trick. But to my dismay, instead of him telling her to kiss his ass, he kissed her cheek and simply said, “Done deal.”

Done deal? What? I couldn’t believe my ears. The way she got her way all the time with him, especially most recently, was sickening. Whatever that bitch said was the gospel. He just puckered up and kissed her ass every time she opened her mouth. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing wrong with the people smoking in the house. This was a party. People were there to have fun. She was the wet blanket, ruining shit for everyone else. I wished he would man up and stop letting her run everything, in particular where he and I were concerned.

I had to get out of there, watching them be all lovey dovey with each other, so I walked into the pantry to see if I could find some cups to put on the drink table. Anything to be out of clear view of Titus playing like he was in love with Shayla. When I got back into the kitchen, they had just walked back in from taking the drinks to the cooler. True to form, they were still playing snuggles with each other as they entered.

Newsflash – whenever a couple is overly affectionate around others, acting like they are so in love that all they do is cuddle and kiss, there is usually more to the story. The act of cuddling, kissing, groping, and lusting after each other in public settings is for the public to get the impression that they are happy. I was hip to the game of putting on airs for the benefit of others, and I wasn’t buyin’ it. I knew better.

I placed the cups on the kitchen counter and looked past them into the living room. I saw that no one was smoking inside anymore and that all of the festivities had made their way outdoors, at Shayla’s request. It made me want to vomit in my throat. If it were up to her, Titus’ bomb-ass parties would be whack as hell. We’d probably all be sitting around playing Charades and Yahtzee, sipping on sodas and iced tea.

I turned to Gladys in order to drag my attention away from their obvious façade. I asked her, “How are my niece and nephew?”

“Growing like weeds and into everything, as usual.” She flippantly answered before setting her drink down on the counter. Eyeing me suspiciously, she asked, “What’s wrong with you today? You seem tense about something.”

“Nah, I’m cool. Everything is cool. What’s going on with you and Maverick?”

She seemed satisfied with my answer, and so answered my question. “Honey, you should be asking me what isn’t going on with Maverick. Er’thang is going on with him.” We laughed out loud at her extra southern wordplay. “I called him the other day after Brenda told me that she didn’t send me the arrangements for the Miami weekend. I let him know that I knew it wasn’t Brenda, and he was like ‘Oh, so you talked to her?’ So I said, ‘Yes, and what I need to know from you is did you send me the masquerade party invitation and free hotel nights?’”

“What did he say?” I asked, anxiously, beginning to like Maverick more and more by the minute. He was a slickster with a wild streak, a very nice combination. Reminded me of someone I knew very well – me.

“Girl, he didn’t deny a thing. He told me that he had spent the last six months periodically checking into what I’d been up to since college. He has been perusing my Linked-Online profile and thoroughly reviewing my company profile from my job. Then, by chance, one day he stopped through Auburn for gas and ran into my aunt. After he got all of the information he needed about me from mi tía Cindy, including where I worked and phone numbers, he went into planning mode, hoping that the day would come that we would have a few stolen moments together. He said, ‘I know how you used to love Brenda’s parties, so I figured if I had any chance at getting you to Florida it would be through an invitation from her.’”

“And it worked too,” I giggled and got a few warm feelings from their love connection.

“But I can’t believe your aunt Cindy gave up all your info like that, but that is so much like her. She’s never met a stranger.”

“Yes! But you know the funny thing is that with the way things were with James before I reconnected with Maverick, and the fact that I never stopped loving Maverick, I would have gone to meet him had he sent me the invite himself. I told him that. He didn’t have to trick me into meeting him. He had me at hola, girl.”

“I know that you would have gone, and you shouldn’t feel bad about the feelings you have for him, either. Life’s experiences have a way of forcing us to challenge each and every one of our principles. We can’t help who we love,” I said, as a somberness came over me that I’d never experienced before. I attempted to quickly recover by saying something that would make it appear as if I was okay, but it was too late.

Gladys looked at me sideways and pursed her lips knowingly. “Is everything okay?” she asked me, placing a hand atop of mine. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Rhonda?” She looked all concerned and motherly.

“Who, me?” I bounced back to my normal self. “Of course not, things couldn’t be better.” About that time, Shayla walked back into the room and asked were we talking about Maverick. Smiling ear to ear, Gladys answered, “Yeah, I told her about his confession to the trickery and how much I love him for it.”

Shayla looked at me pointedly, and said, “You know when a man loves a woman for years like Maverick obviously has undying love for you, Gladys, there is no one, and I mean no one, that will keep them apart.” All I wanted to know was why was she directing that bullshit of a sermon in my direction?

“Ain’t that the truth!” Gladys said, giving Shayla a high five. I was about to respond with my two cents when a loud commotion coming from the living room interrupted me. People screamed out and started cheering for Joe who came through the door singing Happy Birthday to Shayla. Titus took his place beside her as Joe sang his heart out. As usual, he faked the funk and looked at her in a way he never did with me and whispered something in her ear. She smiled. The scene was something out of a horror movie – sickening.

When Joe sang Shayla’s name, Titus mouthed it along with him, and Shayla wiped away a tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. All the women in the room were going crazy, holding their hands to their hearts and whispering to their friends how they wished it were them that was being serenaded. When he was finished singing, Joe handed Titus the mic, saying, “I think you probably have something to say to your girl, huh, man?”

“Thank you, bruh. Yeah, I definitely do.” Titus smiled, gazing into Shayla’s moist eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist while Joe and all of the party-goers looked on, smiling at the two of them. I caught a glimpse of Gladys staring at me with her eyebrows furrowed, and I wondered if my disgust was obvious. She tipped her head at me questioningly, but I just ignored her and watched my man embrace his mismatched wife.

“Shayla, I hope that this party shows you how much you mean to me. I know that Joe is your favorite singer, and I would have nothing less than the best come sing Happy Birthday to my wifey on her special day. You’re my world, girl. I just want you to be happy. You’re always number one in my book, Shay.”

While the crowd clapped and cheered and I heard Joe begin to sing again, I slipped out of the room and ran to the nearest toilet to unload the bile that had caught in my throat.

Chapter 22

Titus

Because I did most of the planning for the party, Shayla didn’t know half of the guests. I invited some of her folks, but her mother called me and told me to stop calling her sanctified ass family. She said that they would rot in hell before they ate at the table with drug dealers. Not spending time with their blood was on them because my baby was going to have the best with or without their so-called Christian Bible toting butts in attendance. Rhonda was supposed to contact all of her friends that she was connected to, but she did a piss poor job of getting them out to the party. Knowing the way she has been acting around Shayla lately, she probably didn’t even reach out to any of them. No one in their right mind would miss a party thrown by Titus to the motherfucking Wilson, so I knew that she couldn’t have put any effort into getting the word out.

One person that Shayla did know, given that it was from TV, was that sanging ass nigga Joe. I wasn’t going to be the one to start screaming and hollering because he was up in my house singing. However, I was proud that I, once again, was showing just how much on another level I was than the other wannabe bosses jocking for position. A nigga like T did it big up in this piece. When you’re blessed man, you don’t have to fake it to make it anymore. You are a made man.

Even though I paid the sanging mofo for three songs, after he handed it to me to speak to her and wish her happy birthday, he took back the mic and was all up in my woman’s face on his fourth song, singing to the top of his lungs when I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her close. I pulled her so close that the smell of my cologne would help her remember who she belonged to. She looked away from Joe and smiled at me. I knew she was satisfied and that was all I wanted for her. I owed her that on her birthday. After the singing was done, Joe mingled for a little bit before he signed a few autographs and bounced.

The Street Justice crew was all the way live up in the place to be with diamonds glistening in their ears, swinging platinum chains, and fresh threads from the head to the feet. That’s just how we did it, man. All day, er’ day, we were them platinum boys from the hood. I looked at my watch, and it was nine o’clock, so I hollered, “Time for the all-white bikini jam! I want all of you ladies out of those clothes and in the pool in fifteen. Fellows, do what you do in your all white swimming trunks.” That’s right, niggas had to jump clean if they were going to party with me. It’s all about the white. No dirty bitches or niggas were allowed to hang around in my spot. Shayla had already gone up to change, and when she sashayed her fine tail back down onto the pool deck with her all white string bikini it was game over for anyone that thought about putting on a swimsuit that night. Baby was banging!

I gave her a twirl, and said, “Good googly moogly, oh, look at that booty!” I twirled her right into my arms and hugged her, whispering in her ear. “Is all of this for me?”

She wiggled from my embrace and smiled showing her pretty, perfect teeth. “If you want it,” she said teasingly, arousing me instantly. I didn’t know if she would make it into the pool wearing that bikini like that. I was ready for all of them hungry niggas to get up out of my house. I was two seconds away from pulling a Marty-Mar and saying, “You ain’t got to go home, but you got to get the hell up outta here!”

“You know I want it,” I said pulling her back close to me so that she was standing at my side. I reveled in the beauty my wife exuded standing there in all of her glory. But then my baby’s smile turned to disgust when Sheniqua’s brave and disrespectful ass flaunted in front of me wearing a microscopic white bikini top. It wasn’t even a real bikini, just four pieces of string connected to two little patches covering her nipples.

Sheniqua said, “Great party, big T.”

She didn’t even address my wife, just looked me up and down like she wanted to bite me. No doubt, she was looking to score a baller for the night, but that would not be me. I didn’t want any more of what she had to offer, at least not that night. Plus, I really wasn’t feeling the way that she was disrespecting Shayla up in our house. I popped my knuckles and mean-mugged her something fierce. She got the picture and quickly found herself some sense. When she walked away, I thought she had better find someone else to play with.

Shayla just stood, giving me that look that let me know that she was not feeling the fact that women were walking around acting like they had some type of relations with me. Pulling Shayla close, I attempted to ignore Sheniqua’s statement. I said, “You just wait until all of these people are gone. I intend to show you just how much I want you tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m about to take a swim,” she said dryly, and left me standing there holding my dick in my hand. Before the night was over, each of my boys took turns pinning a couple hundred birthday dollars on Shayla’s bikini top. And that was cool, but when Street was pinning his money he was having issues getting the pin back on. I stood on the sidelines watching Shayla’s tipsy butt wiggle around as he tried to put the pin back in the material. I didn’t know why, but I felt a little bothered by the fact that Street had his hands on my wife, and she was enjoying it. Whether intentional or not, him getting all kinds of feels on my wife’s breasts was not what was up.

Before I knew anything, I was up out of my seat and all in his face, “What’s the situation, potna?!” I stepped up and took over the closing of the birthday pin. “Why you lingering around my wife’s shit?”

Stunned, Street stepped back and put his hands up in the air in innocence. He was not only my kinfolks, but my number one general, down for life, but I still had issues that didn’t allow me to trust anyone where Shayla was concerned.

I looked at Street for an explanation, but Shayla spoke up instead, saying, “Stop tripping Titus, you are about to mess up my birthday flow. He was just trying to pin some money on my bikini top. I have so much money the pin isn’t working anymore.” Her words slurred as she spoke. “Plus, we all know that no one up in here would get involved with each other’s best friend, would they?”

Her question sounded more like an accusation. Then, she smiled at me like she knew more than what she was saying and almost seemed to enjoy watching me try to come up with a response.

She gave Street a look that I couldn’t quite make out, and added, “You know Street wouldn’t try anything frisky with me.”

I closed the clasp on the oversized safety pin, and said, “There you go. I got it pinned on, but you need another pin. And you’re right about Street, I lose my head about you sometimes, girl.”

Street interrupted saying, “Man, it’s nothing like that. Just giving my little sis a gwap.” Then he turned to Shayla and said, “Don’t spend it all at Neiman Marcus, doll.”

“Lil sis… humph,” I mumbled under my breath and kissed my wife, sticking my tongue deep down her throat, cupping her backside as I intensified the kiss. That woman was my property, and no other man should have his hands on her, ever. After breaking away from her soft lips, I sent her to get me another drink. “Babe, will you bring me another beer?”

Dazed from a dose of that T-passion, she said, “Mmmm, yes, of course! Anything for you, babe.” Before she walked away, she turned to Street and said, “And Street? Thanks for the money, honey.” She smiled as she sashayed toward the cooler. When she was completely out of earshot, I gave fair warning.

“I’m going to have to watch you, nigga? First you fiddling with my wife’s titties. Then you calling her doll and naming her favorite shopping spot. I ain’t got nothing but love for you, mane, but don’t think for one minute I’m slow up in this motherfucker. I know my wife is fine and top shelf even, but don’t get the lines crossed or twisted, and we can keep things copasetic between us. Keep your mind on the business at all times, mane.” Street knew when I was about the business and when I was about jokes. This matter was strictly business. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, I heard a loud pop blast in my ear. Then there was a B-d-d-d-d-d-d… POP. POP! POP!

Screams were heard all throughout my home and on the pool patio. A flood of people ran in all directions, ducking for cover. The noise was deafening. Instinctively, I rushed to find Shayla amongst the retreating crowd and dove on top of her while reaching for the nine at my waist-side. When I got ready to aim at the offender that dared to go off popping his pistol in my mother fuckin’ home, I found that I had five guns aimed back at me. That fact alone didn’t bother me; I’d been in enough shoot outs to know how to handle myself. You don’t do what I do for a living and think you’re going to remain safe all the time. It was the two guns that were glued to Shayla’s head that gave me pause.

Not my baby, anything but my baby, I thought. I dropped my gun and begged them not to shoot her. “Don’t shoot anyone else, man. It’s me you want, so take me instead man, please!”

A ski-masked gentleman who must have been the leader, said, “We didn’t come for blood tonight, only to negotiate.” He pulled me to my feet, called out all of my generals by name, and assembled us in my den for a meeting. As we walked, I made note that most of the people from the party had found their way outside and into their cars to leave, while a few cowered in corners, hungry for drama and action. Despite the risk and danger, they were eager to see how everything turned out. I shook my head, my people, my people. At gunpoint, I walked ahead of Street, Tony, Yak, and Buster into my den where the armed men relayed the demands of their Atlanta crime boss, “Big Shirley.”

Big Shirley was about to cut in on my territory, and she had sent her goons to my home to lay out her demands. Not only did they want thirty-percent off the top of any of my future profits, but also a one-point-five million dollar advance. Hearing that news, I slammed my fist on the coffee table and vehemently stated, “If you think you niggas are going to watch a nigga work for years to establish a business, and then bum rush it, demanding a million five cut plus percentages, you got the whole game fucked up! I ain’t giving you shit!”

Even though I knew that at the moment they had the upper hand, I was ready for war. They’d see me die with honor before I spent a minute paying niggas to breathe. I was Titus to the motherfucking Wilson. And they would not live to spend hide nor hair of a nigga like T’s money. “You will have to kill me first, partner. Now, run tell Big Shirley that!”

The leader stepped so close to me that his Tec-9 was pressing on my nose. “Like I said man, we didn’t come for blood tonight, or else you would already be oozing all over this pretty cream colored rug. However, if it comes down to it, you will pay up tonight in cash or blood, Mr. Wilson.” When he saw that I wasn’t any where near ready to be cooperative, he said, “Get his wife in here.”

Less than a minute later, my heart dropped into my drawers when Shayla was thrust into the coffee table so hard that she bumped her side square on the corner. She screamed out in pain, and I jumped up and yelled, “You’re a dead man!”

When I reached in for the piece in my pocket, the minion that shoved Shayla shot Buster square in the chest, and the leader used his gun to shove me back down into my seat.

The general said, “One more Texas Cowboy move like that and it will be your last, nigga. Now you listen, and listen clearly, to the words that are coming out of my mouth. I have clear instructions to get the first million five tonight. If I don’t have it by one second after midnight, it will cost you an extra million a day and the blood of someone close to you. Ya heard me? It’s a new boss in town.”

Visions of the scene in my den flashed before my eyes like an action flick. I saw the dark red blood bubbles forming in Busters’ mouth as his body jerked feverishly on my cream-colored recliner. Shayla’s contorted face flashed before my eyes, her eyes wincing and her body squirming in pain and fear. Taking a deep breath and weighing all of my options, I reluctantly succumbed to their demands. A feeling I had not felt since I moved out of Sloan Mills Projects crept up on me – a feeling of defeat. I knew that for me to reclaim my status, I’d have to regroup and hit them back twice as hard. Once the news got around that my folks were bleeding from another teams’ gun and I was paying to keep them off my ass, I’d be downgraded to a chump immediately.

“Okay, I’ll get you the money,” I said, ready to get them out of my house, so that we could get Buster to the hospital. The politics of the game would have to wait until I could sit down and think. Right now, I had to alleviate the stress of the immediate situation. My people’s safety was my number one priority – especially baby girl. Shayla was shaken up, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

“Good choice, young man,” he said before a big, ugly, yellow nigga and a tall, dark-skinned female-looking dude escorted me up to my bedroom’s safe. Once his duffle bags were full of cash, they left us all with our face down in the den and vanished out of the den’s side door. As soon as I heard the door close, I rushed to my gun cabinet looking for my Uzi. I was the first one to run to the door blazing a trail of bullets behind them. Realizing that they were on foot made me run even faster down to the end of my driveway busting caps left and right.

“Die motherfuckers!” I yelled behind them, but due to their head start, they all made it to their getaway van without one casualty. “FUCK!”

I instructed Tony and Yak to get Buster to the emergency room pronto and to call his family on their way. Shayla was instructing people on how to help her perform CPR on him, but due to the fact that he had stopped breathing and his heart was not beating, I knew that he would inevitably be dead on arrival. Losing one of my boys in my home was not sitting well with me. I couldn’t let anyone affiliated with me die on my watch – and definitely not in vain.

It was unheard of to hit a boss in his home, assault his wife, kill one of his generals, take his money and then life goes on as usual. There were going to be repercussions, you’d better believe that. I’d been to war before, but this violation of my sanctuary like this was new to me. Whoever was responsible for this had to have a set of cajones the size of the equator. The money they could keep as a souvenir of their big night, but on everything, they would repay me in blood. Their blood would be the only source of repayment for Buster, for Shayla, and for disrespecting a nigga like T in the worst way possible.

As I sat there stuck in a vengeful rage a few minutes after Buster’s corpse was on the way to the hospital, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered quickly. “Who this?”

“It’s good to see that we are going to have a long and lasting relationship, Titus. Or should I call you A Nigga Like T?” It was a female, and she was laughing like that comedian Pierre was on stage telling bust-a-gut jokes.

“Who the fuck is this?” I fumed, not in the mood for the bullshit. After she stopped laughing, it sounded like she took a long tug off of a cigarette and then spoke again.

“First, my condolences for your friend… Buster is it? Second, keep the cash flow coming just like you did like tonight, and you and your crew will be all right with no more casualties. I’ll let you keep your turf, and it will be business as usual, except we’re partners now – business partners.”

“Let me keep my business! Partners? You got things really fucked up. I will be finding you right after I assassinate everyone associated with your no-honor-having crew. That’s a promise, bitch!”

“Oh, simmer down, young man, before you give yourself a heart attack. We meet under, well, sort of unconventional circumstances, but trust me when I say I plan to introduce myself to you formally. Before we met though, I wanted you to feel the fortitude of my force. Feel me? To know what you are up against, so to speak. Now, as I said, thanks for making your first payment on time. Sorry it had to have blood on it, as well, but I need you to know that this is an everyday thing for me, mane. Oh, and when I say that thirty-five-percent is due at the first of every month, I mean that it is due to be paid in full at twelve AM on the first day of every month, and not a minute late.”

“I thought it was thirty,” I said, not knowing why I was challenging how much I was going to pay her when I didn’t plan to pay her one more dime.

“No, that price went up when you shot at my men.” She paused, and then said, “Do you see how easy it was for us to touch you in your home? Now that we know that you’ll be more prepared next time, we’ll simply come harder and when and where you least expect it. Son, I can have a thousand men swarming Lake Nesto in ten minutes, so don’t try a Queen like BS.” And with that said, all I heard was the dial tone.

My boy Street had been listening to the entire exchange on speaker phone. He said, “That’s Big Shirley, man. BS stands for Big Shirley. I heard about her when I was doing some transactions in Atlanta, but I didn’t know she was making her way down this way. With her manpower, she can do just what she says and more. We are up against the big league with her man. I think you should pay her.”

“Big leagues! And, nigga, what? Do you want to eat her pussy or something? I’m not about to let some bitch take by force what I’ve worked so hard for without a fight. She owes me a million five and to see her blood drip. Now, what you need to be doing is getting ready for war!”

Chapter 23

Rhonda

Once again, I was back in my doctor’s office. Either my birth control pills were out of whack again or the stress of the shooting had had my stomach tied up in knots ever since Shayla’s party. I thought it could have been that I had some kind of stress ulcer with all of the things I’d had on my plate lately. Regardless of how other people think or feel about a mistress, it was hard work to love another woman’s husband. If she was your best friend, it was twice as hard. Anyway, an excruciating pain had taken over my gut, and I’d been getting more and more nauseated.

The first time I’d came to Dr. Swanman’s office, they told me that I wasn’t pregnant, and a tiny bit of relief came over me. To be honest, I had mixed emotions about having my man’s firstborn child. Even though I wasn’t ready to face Shayla then, I had to admit that the idea of having Titus’ baby made me smile. Now that Shayla had been acting all tart, the idea had really grown on me. I don’t know – I just might like it. I smiled at the thought. It was too bad that we hadn’t had many opportunities to create a love child lately.

Titus was barely talking to me, and when he did, all that he talked about was me staying safe. He said that he wanted me to stay out of public as much as possible so that I would be out of harm’s way. I loved the thought that he was concerned about me, but at the same time, not being with him was a serious adjustment that I wasn’t about to start getting used to.

The only other thing that he talked about was taking this Big Shirley bitch to war. I didn’t know exactly who she was, but I could not stand her just the same. Any woman who thought that she was bad enough to fuck with T was crazy. She had no idea how raw my man could get over his ends and his family. I was itching to show Titus how dedicated I was to his game and that I could be his down ass chick, but he wasn’t giving me much of a chance. I wanted to take Big Shirley out with my hands, woman to woman, but the next morning after Shayla’s party, Titus went to Atlanta spraying bullets left and right on corners ran by her. Then she’d returned the favor on Titus’ blocks in LaGrange, Opelika, and Auburn. He was afraid that she would come after the people closest to him next, so he kept checking in on me. Sitting in the doctor’s office, the more I thought about the whole ordeal, the more my stomach ached.

To avert my attention to something else, I picked up the latest Essence of Color Magazine hoping that another one of their articles would keep my mind entertained. I guessed I was a glutton for this type of punishment. Just like the first time I was there, the first story I landed on seemed to be directed right at me. It was entitled, Home Wrecking Mistress.

“Go figure?” I said aloud, knowing it was going to be yet another article bashing the other woman. I wished that they would keep it real for once, because we all know that it takes three to cheat – the frustrated husband, his hot ass mistress, and a homely wife not doing her job at home. For entertainment purposes only, I decided to humor myself and read the article anyway.

Home Wrecking Mistresses

Being a kept woman turns out to have no true meaning in the big spectrum of life, especially when the outcome is emotional turmoil, spiritual death and merely existing in a realm of misplacement. When a mistress’ livelihood depends on her man’s stolen time from his wife, she is not living a life of her truest potential…”

The last line jumped up and slapped me in the face. Was I missing out on my blessings, as the article stated, because I was coveting my best friend’s husband? I had always thought that I could never find anyone as perfect for me as Titus, but how could I know for sure? I had never given anyone else a chance, really. Since high school, I had been messing around with Shayla’s boyfriend, and later her husband, on the down low. I toyed with the idea that there was a man out there that was better for me – a man of my very own – that I would never meet, because I was spending all of my time with Titus. The thought sent my stomach back into knots, and I pushed it out of my head.

Or could it be that I was already spiritually dead before we had even started fooling around? On the inside I struggled against a feeling of nostalgia, reminiscent of feelings I had as a child. As a little girl, I yearned for affection and love from my mother when love and affection towards me were the last things on her mind.

Mama was a lively and vibrant lady who worked hard but never seemed to be able to get ahead. When she wasn’t working long hours to provide for us, she seemed to get her only source of enjoyment in life by being in the company of different men – many different men. Many of her boyfriends would end up being one-night stands that I hated to see come and go from her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. That vision haunted me for years afterwards.

The men would make their hasty exit just as the sun threatened to peek up over the horizon outside my window. I’d hear their muted whispered outside my bedroom door in the hallway. Listening to Mama’s girlish giggles and the men’s empty promises to return, I would turn my face towards the wall as the front door clicked closed behind them. These men came and went as they pleased, with no ties to Mama, leaving her with nothing but a piece of a memory to hold on to until the next time they decided to show her some more love. Speaking of love, she rarely showed me any type of love or affection that I could feel in my adolescent soul. She’d say that I was a strong girl and that I could make it on my own in the world.

What she didn’t know was that an empty human shell is never strong. It has to be filled with love, joy, and hope to be strong enough to learn what truly makes a woman. I never had that role model to look up to. What I felt every time Mama chose a man over me could not be summed up in words, until she kicked me out of the house over the first man that decided to put a Rent-to-Own ring on her finger. It was then that my spirit was finally broken, and I was able to tell her in words how much I hated her.

It might have been at that point that I lost the ability to genuinely love another female. I mean, really love them like family, simply for the beauty of our friendship. Due to the fact that the one woman that I loved with all that I had in me to love threw me out on the street like a piece of trash for a piece of a man, I was incapable of loving the best friend I had ever had. Mama said I had to go, because Jessie didn’t feel comfortable in her house because of my attitude problem.

When it all boiled down to it, a woman was always going to choose her man over another woman, even if she said she loved you. Whether she was your mother, or your so-called Sister-From-Another-Mother, it was always the same. So, you might as well beat her to the punch, and look out for yourself.

Pushing my dreadful memories of Mama and their relation to my present decision to do everything I could to take my best friend’s husband from her to the back of my mind, I consoled myself with the thought that at least I finally had someone to love me for real. Well, at the moment, I at least had a part-time lover that was slowly but steadily working his way into full-time. Shayla might have thought that she had everything under control, but she had no idea. It was the real woman behind the scenes that ran shit in relationships. I could do amazing things in the dark, and Titus would come to see the light sooner or later.

I flipped the page to read the rest of the eye-opening article just as Dr. Swanman’s blond, bubbly, and always smiling, nurse called me to the back.

“So, Ms. Jackson, what’s bothering you today?” she asked, once I was sitting on the exam table.

I started to tell her to look at my chart, because the lady at the front desk asked the same question and wrote it there. Instead, I repeated my symptoms to her.

“I’m having really bad stomach cramps. I came in last month, because I thought I needed a new birth control pill since my periods had been irregular. The new pill has me cramping something awful, even worse than before. I’ve been on three different birth control pills this year, so maybe there is something else wrong with me.”

“Have you been under any kind of stress lately?” she asked, writing down notes into my chart.

“Well, I guess you could say that. I was at a party a few days ago, and someone came in shooting. But I was having pain off and on before then.”

“Okay,” The nurse looked at me strangely, as if she was judging me for being somewhere that shooting would take place. I really didn’t need her condescending attitude right at that moment. I was about to tell her so when she took a quick breath, looked back at my chart, and continued, “Well, let’s get you checked out. I need you to urinate in one of the cups in the bathroom for a urine sample. Then go to room seven, and remove all of your clothing. Cover yourself with the robe provided on the exam table, and the doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

I shot daggers at her with my eyes as she turned her back and walked quickly out of my exam room. I was still feeling a bit perturbed at the way she looked at me – I had enough people passing judgment on me on a regular basis. I certainly didn’t need it from some little petite Barbie look-a-like who had no idea what I had been through – hell, what I was still going through! She had probably been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and been handed everything to her by her mommy and daddy all of her life.

After I got undressed, hopped up onto the examining table, and covered myself, Dr. Swanman came in and began his brief examination. As expected, my mouth and ears were clear, and I didn’t have any lumps in my breasts. My lungs and heart sounded good, and he said everything looked normal. Since I had just had a pelvic exam and Pap smear the last time I was there, it wasn’t necessary this time around. The only thing left was for the phlebotomist to come in and draw some blood so that the doctor could run tests to see if my chemistry was all balanced. I was sure the blood tests were just another way for his office to make some more money, but I wanted to get to the bottom of my pain, so I agreed to it.

When the phlebotomist had drawn my blood and was about to walk out of the room, the doctor and his nurse met him at the door. They were both looking perplexed and nervous, raising my anxiety level up to ten on the feelings meter. If I had been wearing one of those mood rings that were so popular back in the eighties and nineties, it would be going from grey to black.

Dr. Swanman slowly walked to me and put a hand on my shoulder. He said, “Ms. Jackson, there has been some sort of a mix up in your chart. The last time you were here, your pregnancy test was positive, and it read positive again on this visit today. The mix up happened because another patient’s test results were erroneously placed into your chart, and your results were placed in hers, thus giving you both false readings.” With a look of disgust, he turned to the nurse and said, “Judy, call Mrs. Boutmore right now, and let her know that she is not pregnant.”

I’d never heard him address her by her first name before. I raised my eyebrows at the awkward situation. There was a definite cloud of tension in the room. The nurse nodded, shamefully avoiding my stare, with tears welling in her eyes, and quickly left the room. Dr. Swanman shook his head slowly, then began apologizing. “Ms. Jackson, I assure you that this type of thing has never happened in my office. It will not happen again. I am so sorry that it happened to you.”

“Wait… Are you sure that I’m pregnant?” I asked, as my world seemed to start swimming around for a moment, and I had to steady myself on the exam table with my hands so that I wouldn’t fall over.

“This test is pretty much conclusive, but we will know with absolute certainty when your blood tests come back because I’m going to run what we call a serum pregnancy test. This will test the amount of pregnancy hormones in your body. Now, based on the fact that you have been having irregular periods, we will have to wait a few months and watch the baby’s growth before we do an ultrasound to determine how many months you are.”

To say that I was in shock would have been an understatement. For some reason, I couldn’t comprehend what the doctor had just said. My head wouldn’t wrap itself around the idea. Me? Rhonda Grezille? Pregnant? My first instinct was to ask myself what would become of my sexy, well-maintained body. I couldn’t picture the possibility of stretch marks and a distended belly. On the other hand, the thought that I was going to be the first one to give Titus a child was exhilarating. There was nothing that sweet little Shayla could do about that one!

“Are you sure this is not a mistake, Dr. Swanman?” I asked again, just to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh, we are sure this time, and like I said, once the serum pregnancy test comes back it will be pretty much conclusive. Right now, let’s set you up for a two-week follow-up, and we will call you with the results as soon as we have them.”

As Dr. Swanman handed me the instructions on taking care of myself and my baby for the next two weeks, the nurse, who had recomposed herself and joined us a few minutes earlier, handed me a follow-up appointment slip and prenatal vitamins.

“I am very sorry for the mix-up, Ms. Jackson. Thank goodness we caught it when we did. Please make sure that you’re back in two weeks.” Oh, suddenly she was sweet as sugar. A few minutes ago she was ready to write me off as some ghetto reject, but now that she knew that her job could hinge on my reaction to her obvious mistake, she was all up my ass without lubricant.

Everything they were saying to me about the baby seemed to be said in slow motion. It was as if they were talking underwater, or something. They kept handing me more bags, bottles, and papers, and I held my hands out for them like a robot. Taking all of the information, introductory care packages, and vitamins, I was in a state of shock and happiness. Sure, I’d been spotting and not having a full period, but I thought that it was because of my birth control pills being changed so often. I had no idea that this was the reason I had been so miserable lately. I thought about every time that I had taken a drink in the few months, every time I had been around people smoking and wiling out, the birth control pills I had been taking not knowing that my fetus was struggling to maintain itself against the onslaught, and last but not least, the fact that I had almost gotten in serious physical altercations with not only Titus but his little wife when she had stepped her nosey tail into my home looking for her husband. The safety of my new child had been at stake, and I had been completely clueless!

On the car ride home, I forgot to even start the radio. My mind was so full of questions that I couldn’t focus on any of them. After several miles had passed underneath me, I realized how quiet it was in the confinement of my vehicle. Suddenly, a slow grin appeared on my face.

As I turned onto College Street in Auburn toward my apartment complex, I giddily told myself aloud, “Oh my God! He is going to have to love me now. No woman can compare to the mother of his first born child. What man wouldn’t love that? I hope we have a son, and we can call him Titus Jr. Oh, shit! That would absolutely tear Shayla up!” I giggled and psyched myself up as I pulled into my personal parking space. Titus would have to respect our relationship now, because we were bonded forever by the life growing inside of me. Having Titus’ baby would definitely solidify me as a permanent fixture in his life. I wouldn’t have to continuously worry about whether he would try to get rid of me again like he had done not too long ago before I changed his mind in his own den. For the next eighteen years, at least, he was mine.

Now, how exactly am I going to break the news to Shayla? She was the only pesky detail left in my perfect little future.

Chapter 24

Titus

Money can buy a man many things, but it can’t buy him respect. That I knew that for a fact, Jack! As I talked to Street, I remembered those valuable words from my O.G. uncle, Dex. He had always told me that I was only as strong as my weakest link. I could remember many examples where the people I aligned myself with started out cool, but somewhere down the line they started to look really unfamiliar to a nigga. Well, it turns out that the problem with all of the fucked up business that had been going down with Big Shirley was a nasty case of betrayal. My vision had been blurry on the nigga I should have had my eye on the most. My vision didn’t come into focus until my boy had completely transformed into a full-fledged foe. Cutting to the chase, Street was starting to look really unfamiliar.

First of all, how in the hell did a whole block of corner boys plus a money-drop spot get lit up like the fourth of July two nights in a row? His ass was on location both times, but he was the only one that didn’t take a bullet in the flesh. He was the last man standing to tell the story on both occasions. The first time, I was glad he made it, dapped him up, and even hugged him, because I didn’t know what I would have done if I had lost my boy. But the second time a block got hit on his watch and he showed up with the bad news without as much as a scratch, I was like nigga what?

Second of all, how was it that he purchased a Jag last week? In the middle of all of the turmoil going on with Big Shirley, my main man was out shopping for Jags. Our money was messed up because we were getting hit left and right, and he was shopping for high dollar cars! Either this nigga had a real good savings plan with IRAs, savings bonds, and some other shit Obama and ‘nem not telling all the citizens about, or he was skimming off the motherfucking top, like a fat cat!

Third of all, he was straight up foul, because I had it on a reliable source that he was spotted talking to one of the goons that busted up in my house blasting some weeks back. To be seen in the same room as one of those men was an offense punishable by death right about now. But to be talking to them, to me, was like kissing death in the face. Now, to think that he could outsmart me with my money was one thing, but to think that he could align himself with the very people that had my peeps blood on their hands was on some whole other shit. The concerning part was that he knew my whole setup, which was probably why it was so easy for them to hit us during Shayla’s party in the first place. They had to have gotten some inside information to know when and where we would be the most vulnerable.

Not to mention, several times I planned to hit them back hard, and they were prepared when we got there as if they’d been tipped off. It had to be Street, I thought reluctantly. Some of the details that Big Shirley knew were so intimate that only he, being my right-hand man, was the one that knew of the plans until minutes before they were executed. Therefore, I put him to the test by calling him up on his cell phone and told him of a bogus plan about getting back at the other squad. To put the icing on the cake, I told him that I would be there personally to take out that bitch, Big Shirley.

An informant had already told me that she showed up at the G-Room every Saturday at 11:45 p.m. sharp. My goal was to get Street to inform them of a hit on that location, so they would switch up their meeting spot for Saturday. That way, I could follow them to a less populated area away from the police department and hit them with the fire. “Okay, my nigga, you understand we are taking her ass out at the G-room as soon as she walks up in there through the side door at 11:45 sharp!” I gave Street the phony details. If my inkling was right, he was going to tell her the plan, and my informant would tell me of the new location.

He said, “Aight man. I’m ready for this ho.”

“Bet.” Yeah, I was betting that his state property, Bitches R Us ass hung up the phone and called her right away to snitch. What Street wasn’t banking on was the fact that one of the men working close to her was in my pocket, so I would know within an hour where her new spot to collect would be, and I would also find out if my boy was sheisty. Big Shirley thought she was going to be getting another dime from a nigga like T, but she sincerely had some things to learn about my resilience.

Later that evening, the time had come to hit her back hard. As anticipated, Street tipped her off, and they were at their new location. I busted into the room she’d booked at Alabama Suites, and it was twenty-men deep – all cocked and loaded. That punk nigga had the nerve to be laying up on the bed counting money like a bitch. When he saw me, he jumped up and put his hands in the air like I was five-O.

Coming through the door gunning, I didn’t even hesitate. I put two in Street’s disloyal ass and hollered, “Where the fuck is Big Shirley?” Without giving them enough time to answer, I put one in the man chest who was standing by the door and two in the man standing by the bathroom sink. I turned back around quick to catch Street staring at me with wide unblinking eyes. His head had fallen off of the side of the bed while his bullet-riddled body stayed sprawled across it. Thick congealed blood poured from his gaping mouth, and a strong iron smell permeated the room. This nigga had jeopardized not only my business, but my family and the homies, all for what? For that paper?! That gwap was scattered all across his chest like worthless blood-splattered confetti. Shit, if it had been all that, I could’ve given him some damn paper. He was supposed to be my boy. He was supposed to be… Well, it didn’t much matter what he was supposed to be anymore. What he was now was casket-filler. This was no time for regrets or sentiment. This was all about the business. In this game, when you make stupid decisions, sometimes you had to get schooled. Street had to learn the hard way that there were certain things you just didn’t do. Fuckin’ with a nigga like T was on the top of that list.

My men were blasting so hard that we’d taken out everyone else moving, until I raised my hand signaling them to stop shooting. The desk chair started to swivel, and I almost emptied my clip in it. I would have, too, but I couldn’t see anyone sitting there. I figured that there was no use in wasting my ammo blazing on inanimate objects, so I lowered my piece.

As the chair continued to swivel, I felt like everything was moving in slow motion. I looked over at one of my men, and I saw the shocked look come across his face as he faced the chair. Wondering what was up, I took a deep breath and turned back towards that part of the room, ready for anything. I’ll be damned, I thought to myself, my mouth dropping open. Sitting in that chair was none other than that bitch, Big Shirley. Calm, cool, and collected, despite her entire room being blasted seconds before, she continued to allow her chair to turn all the way around to finally face me – queen pen to king pen.

When the chair finally made its full circuit and came to a complete halt, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Where the fuck was the rest of this bitch? Wait a minute…What the…? A midget?

Big Shirley was a bonafide midget wearing a little black turtle neck, little jacket, little shoes, little every damned thing! Immediately, I felt a tinge of remorse creep up on me. It was bad enough that I was there to check a woman in the first place, but to find out that woman was a midget, too! Ah, man, that wasn’t going to look good for a nigga, man. I couldn’t help myself. I let out an exasperated chuckle, scratching my temple with the warm end of my piece. I don’t care who you are… this shit was funny. A few of my men let out a couple of nervous laughs, following my lead. Abruptly, I cut off the laughter and scowled at her. Frowning my face up menacingly, I stared her in her beady little midget eyes while the silence hung in the air. The tension in the room was suffocating as everyone waited for my next move. Thinking about the blood that ho had caused my men to shed, I briskly walked toward her and yanked her out of that midget chair. I mean, I yanked her straight up out of the seat until we were at eye level. Midget or no midget, this trick had caused me some serious trouble and heartache, and I wasn’t letting up on her just because of her size. Fuck that!

Her feet were swinging in the air, and she looked like she was turning pale. To my surprise, she didn’t seem phased by the fact that all of her men were dead and that I had ten guns pointed in her direction. Gasping for air between speaking, she said, “What you gon’… do with that gun… besides make me… mad?”

I realized now that I should have recognized that nasally midget voice when I spoke to her on the phone, but I was thinking that she was just a fat bitch who couldn’t breathe right. I wasn’t expecting this mini-monster to be the queen pen of Atlanta. Her cockiness caused a little nervous to travel through my cold-blooded veins. Was this a setup? She must have had a back-up plan, considering that she was still talking shit.

Lil’ Turp yelled at me, saying, “Just shoot the little bitch, so we can get the hell up out of here.” Turp was collecting the bloody money off of the bed, stuffing it in his pants and a duffle bag that was on the bed.

I said, “I got this, mane. She’s responsible for the death of too many of my family and friends, so I’m about to beat this little bitch’s ass before I kill her.” I commenced to slapping and beating Big Shirley’s little bitty midget ass with blows that landed on her left jaw and arm while I held her up with my left arm and punched with the right. She squirmed like a worm on a hook. I only stopped punching her ugly ass long enough to cock my pistol, ready to put one in her head, and said, “This one is for…”

I had my finger on the trigger, applying pressure, and pop almost went the weasel. The only reason I didn’t pull the trigger was because I heard a word that I hadn’t heard in all the time I had been slanging drugs in east Alabama. That one word made me sorry I hadn’t taken the bitch out when I’d had the chance.

“FREEZE!” I dropped Big Shirley, who landed with a hard thump on the thinly carpeted floor, and turned around to realize that we were surrounded by SWAT. Big Shirley wiggled her fat fingers into her pocket, whipped out her badge, and said, “Yeah, freeze, punk! You’re heading downtown for murder, distribution of a controlled substance, and any other charges I can think of on the way to the station. Now drop your gun!”

The question of whether or not I should take her out where she stood, or cooperate with the police surrounding me, ran through my mind a few seconds before I dropped the gun, knowing that I was defeated.

She jumped up from the floor and slapped a set of handcuffs on my wrist and read me my rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, or do, can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Ain’t this bout a bitch, I shook my head as I was lead out into the crisp night’s air.

Chapter 25

Gladys

There was another secret that no one else knew about me. When they found out that I had experienced physical abuse from James, both Shayla and Rhonda asked the same questions, “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? How could you put up with all of that mess? I think I’d go crazy.”

Well, what they didn’t know was that I’ve always had a bad habit of daydreaming. I don’t mean the kind of daydreaming that you do when you’re bored or the type of daydreaming that you do when your mind just seems to get away from you for a second. I’m talking about full out escapism. The imagination is a powerful thing, and mine is ten times more powerful than most people’s, because it’s had to be.

It was the consequence I paid for living with James for so many years and having to deal with his horrible unpredictable temper. I found that it was only the times that I was able to escape into a dream that I could find some sort of happiness. That was the way that I coped with the pain. Getting away from the reality of the moment was my one solace. I had gotten really good at creating a safe place inside of my own head.

Music has always been an important part of my life, too. So, it should come as no surprise that my daydreams always centered around dancing and one or two of my favorite melodies. I could lose myself completely in the music. I would dance with my memories. After a sweet daydream, I’d feel compelled to sing songs of sweet poetry as I danced around my house doing my chores, imagining that my vacuum cleaner was my invisible dance partner. I’d use my feather duster as a microphone and my broom served as my mic stand.

On this particular day, I was using the adrenaline rush to push me to close another power deal at work. Ever since I had reconnected with Maverick, those songs in my daydreams had been sang to the tune of, “Hey DJ, keep playing that song, of mine, all night. On and on and on…” I was getting ready to make a major move with one of my most important clients, and my secretary, Linda, and I were working late to get everything prepared for the next week.

With thoughts of Mav on my mind, I’d found myself trapped in a fantasy world with him, dancing to the beat of our own drum. I sat at my desk in my office with the door closed. Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the back of my leather executive’s chair and began to fully relax. I knew that Linda was preoccupied with files that I had dropped off on her desk before I had made myself comfortable in my own secluded chamber. I planned on taking advantage of the few extra moments to let my mind roam free.

Suddenly Maverick and I were singing our special songs, carrying notes sweet enough to resuscitate a lover's dying heart. The mental and physical energy that was generated within me as I melted into his strong arms in my dreams was unbelievable. That was the effect that I was looking for. I felt a surge of vitality shoot through my body, and I let out a shaky sigh of ecstasy. I was fully aware that if anyone was to walk in on me during these moments, I would look completely loca, but I didn’t care. This was exactly what I needed in order to get the job done. I was a business powerhouse, but in his arms, I melted like a little girl.

After he dipped me and swung me around gracefully to the enchanting words of Always and Forever, my mind would be caught in a whirlwind of wander. As the rhythmic vibrations threatened to fade away into the winds of indifference, I attempted to speak, but I was barely able to exhale the words, “Baby, don’t let this song come to an end.”

When I could no longer hear Luther Vandross’ vibrant voice in my head, I sent up a silent prayer to the only person I knew that could create a miracle and make this dream a reality – God.

"Jesus Cristo, please let this groove continue to move me for as long as possible. I don’t want to wake up yet. Amen, así sea…” I didn’t want the sweet song to end. My hips were not ready to stop their sway underneath the desk, and my feet were begging to be let loose to be free on solid ground. They rocked left to right and then right to left in front of my chair. I thanked God above when the beautiful melody continued until I reached the pinnacle of the high I had sought. I’m almost there, baby, I thought.

That trip down memory lane was so real that I could feel myself attempting to shake it. I opened my eyes briefly to glance at the office door, making sure that Linda hadn’t knocked or called for me. Subconsciously, I heard a whisper, begging, “Please, don’t disturb this groove.”

Honoring that whisper’s plea, I closed my eyes again and crossed my arms on my desktop. We continued to groove as electricity shot through our wanting bodies. Mav and I gently slid across the floor doing our own sacred rendition of the e-e-electric slide! I slid further into ecstasy when he dipped me again, like a skilled performer, and guided me through this heated dance. He was truly the commander of this symphony.

With my eyes rapidly reading the back of my eyelids and my hands tightly clutching the arms of my chair, I’d sat at my desk for a full fifteen minutes recapturing our precious past times together. Much to my dismay, the decibels began to come to a simmering halt, and the soles of our feet stood still. Yet, the souls that lived within us continued to seek each other out, taking on a life of their own. They intertwined beautifully until locked, and I imagined our tongues doing the tango so well that I knew when I saw him again in real life, our next kiss would surely be the start of something explosive.

I imagined that we continued to move. He allowed me to continue this dance, even though only in my dreams, and he never held back. I allowed him to take me to a place I had never been and proceeded to give him something he could feel right back. The real world disappeared completely as I left my physical body behind to join Maverick completely in this dream world. With his spirit and my soul, we became one in every possible way. Our groove thing produced the most sensual creamation known to man. Given the chance to grow, I knew that what we had would shake even the firmest foundation.

Wow! What a climax! I rubbed my arms with my hands, savoring the feeling. I loved it when I daydreamed about Maverick, because the way he held me in my daydreams was a blessing straight from above. The fact that sometimes memories were meant to be just that – memories – made me want to be sure that when Maverick and I did get back together, it was truly love. Daydreaming about him behind closed doors in my office was once thing, but making it real was a whole other thing.

I wanted to make sure that I was completely in love with him and the idea of rekindling our love. Our precious memories were captured and held steady in mi corazon and my spirit, which were replayed over and over, but I had to be sure. With an aura of happiness all around me, I was two seconds from snapping out of my day dream and getting back to work when I heard a loud object banging down onto my desk.

“Bitch! I know you heard me calling your dumb ass name.” My daydream began to fade around the edges, and just like that, it was gone. I hadn’t even heard my office door open, let alone the footsteps approaching my desk. It took me a few seconds to focus in and see that Linda was standing beside James looking as if she feared for her own life. James, on the other hand, had one fist on my desk and his free hand looked like it was itching to wrap around my neck. I sat there frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“James, what are you… I mean, what is it that you want?” I had left home over a week ago. It had been a Saturday when I backed a small U-Haul up to the house and loaded up everything that I could get inside of it in less than two hours. The rest of the things he could keep. I chose Saturday, because that was his day to whore around with his girlfriend. I knew that this would be the day that he would least expect me to make a move. The one thing I had not expected was for him to be able to clear security in this building, since he had been put on the list as a person who should not be allowed into the building for any reason whatsoever.

Linda interrupted, “I… I’ve already called security, Mrs. LaQuinn. I tried to tell Mr. LaQuinn that he didn’t have clearance to be in here.” She clearly was afraid, but it seemed like she was more afraid for me than she was for her own safety. She attempted to calmly take James’ hand, and he yanked away from her roughly.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’d get your little skinny bitch ass back behind your mothafuckin’ desk. You don’t know what kind of brother you’re messing with!” He then walked around to stand behind my desk beside me and turned his venom back towards me. Yanking me clean out of my chair, which I was still stuck to from the moment I had first heard his first B-word, he said, “Come here, woman! I know you didn’t think you could just up and leave me. I told you that I would kill you first… ” He raised his closed fist in the air, and I just knew that I’d be getting wheeled out of my office into somebody’s hospital before the evening was over.

With tears streaming down my face I felt the epitome of shame and pity. The fact that he would invade this sacred space was inconceivable. This was my office – the place where I ruled the roost. He was showing his ass in front of Linda, who looked up to me here at work. All of my emotions fought for precedence within me – anger at being violated in this way, fear and anxiety over what James was about to do, and shame and humiliation at having this all occur in front of one of my subordinates. I swallowed the large gulp of air that was caught in my throat, and as my trembling voice managed, “Please, James, don’t do this here,” a fear that I could never escape him overtook me.

“Please, James, don’t do this! Look what you are doing to us,” he mocked me. I realized that his fist was still cocked and loaded. I just couldn’t bare the thought that he would not let me out of his twisted hold. There were so many possibilities for Maverick and me in the horizon, but with James nipping at my heels, constantly dragging me down, I didn’t know how I was going to manage to get away. Closing my eyes, I shrunk into the bottomless pit of sorrow that James had dug for me all the years that I’d been his wife. They snapped back open when I heard the impossible voice of light pierce through the stormy cloud of despair that had formed around me.

“If you don’t get your punk hands off of my lady!” Maverick said, coming through the door just as security arrived to apprehend James. My handsome savior tossed the flowers he had in his hands onto the floor and reached James before security did. He punched him square across the jaw. James’ neck cocked back, and he hit the floor like a ton of bricks.

“You have no right to put your hand on a woman like that. You are less than a man. You’re dirt! And if I ever catch you around her again, you’re going to smell my cologne, dude. You don’t have anything in this office anymore, as far as I’m concerned.” He walked around the desk and came to my side as security pulled James to his feet. He tried to place his hand tenderly on his jaw, but they stretched his hands behind his back and cuffed him. Maverick put one arm around me and said to James, “This is me right here. Pay attention long enough, and I’ll show you how to treat a woman and your kids.”

With the mention of the kids, James started squirming around trying to get out of the hold of security. Instead of directing any of his venom toward Maverick, he just continued to call me all sorts of bitches and hos and told Maverick, “You can have her nasty ass. She never was nothing, and she’ll never be anything. Everything that she ever was, I made her. Everything she ever had, I gave her. You want the headache? Take it! See if I gives a fuck about that trifling ass, cheating ass bitch! She’s with you, right? Don’t forget that she was still married while she was out spreadin’ them legs for you and who knows who else! If that bitch will cheat on me, she’ll cheat on you, playa!”

My mouth fell open in shock. This man had beaten me down in every possible way, physically and mentally. He had cheated on me, degraded me, and disrespected me with more women than I could even count. I had stopped trying to keep up with who he was sleeping around with a long time ago. Yet there he stood, with his face swelling up as he spoke, accusing me of being the one who broke our wedding vows? I allowed Mav’s strong arms to comfort me. I was afraid that I would collapse on the spot if he should let me go.

Maverick didn’t say anything as security carted James out of the room to be held for the police. Before security and Linda walked out of the room to give us some privacy, the head of security said, “Mrs. LaQuinn, I’ll give you a few minutes with your friend, and then I need you to come to the security office to give a statement to the police.”

I nodded and made brief eye contact with my secretary. I searched her expression to try and find any trace of judgment or disgust, but all I saw was pure concern for me. I smiled weakly at her and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She nodded and smiled encouragingly at me. Pointing towards Maverick, she raised her eyebrows and shot me a thumbs up sign. I laughed as she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Once everyone was out of the room, Maverick’s concern turned to me. Turning me towards him, he tilted my head upwards, looking over my face and neck as if he was expecting me to be bruised.

“Are you okay?” He asked, as he pulled me gently into his arms for a strong embrace.

“Yes, now that you are here.” I let him hold me up. His strength was mine as long as I was in his arms. Overwhelmed with emotion, I let loose a flood of pent up tears and frustration. Quietly, he held me, allowing me to rest in him.

“Gladys, we were meant for a life of greatness – not mediocrity, and it appears that we both have been settling. That is why what I have to say to you now is so important.” He dropped down on one knee, and my heart fell into my stomach. I began to shake uncontrollably, and tears welled up in my eyes instinctively. “I want to make sure that starting today, no other man will ever put his hand on you. And while I know you are still his wife on paper, I know you are not his wife in your heart. After all of these years, the love we share for each other has never lost its zeal. I care for you today the same way I did in college, but multiply that by one hundred and you have the way I feel for you now. Before I came in here and saw that piece of a husband you’ve been dealing with, I planned to give you this, but now this is all the more important.” He opened a jewelry box and inside was a beautiful gleaming promise ring.

“I’m not saying let’s get married, but I am promising you that I intend to do just that, when the time is right.”

I couldn’t hold back my waterfall back, then. In the range of twenty minutes, I’d gone from daydreaming a sweet love song about Maverick, to nearly getting physically abused by James in my workplace, and back to Maverick showering me with his unconditional love.

“Of course, I’ll accept your ring.” I kissed him back as he stood up and leaned in for a tender moment. Breaking the kiss, I said, “Thank you, Mav. You’ve made me happier than you’ll ever know. For years I have dreamt of this moment, and you’ve just made all of those dreams come true. Now, will you go to the security office with me? I don’t have the strength to face James alone.”

“As long as there is breath in my body, you will never have to face him alone again. Lead the way baby.” He took my hand in his and walked me towards my office door.

After talking to security and pressing charges against James, I quickly cleaned off my desk and Maverick and I left my office. The CEO personally stood in on the security meeting and suggested that I take the rest of the night off and the week if I needed it. I would definitely take the time off once I closed the deal I was working on.

Linda was sitting at her desk when I exited my office. “Linda, please forward all calls to your cell for the weekend, and only call me if there is an emergency that you can’t handle. We’ll get back on this proposal first thing Monday.”

“Sure thing. Do you need me to do anything else?”

“No, that will be all.”

“Oh, Gladys… I’m so sorry he got in…” She began to explain how James got into the office, but I cut her off.

“Don’t worry about it, Linda. Have a nice weekend.”

“You too,” she said dropping her head back down into the work in front of her as I walked by. She really had no reason to feel bad, because James was the one who was the asshole. I knew what it felt like to be made to feel like it was somehow your fault that he did the inexplicable, so I turned back around to address her concern.

“Linda, James is the one with the problem, not us. Thank you for being there to call security for me, and thank you for taking care of everything while I am gone.” I touched her hand, and she looked up at me. A moment passed between us, and she smiled at me.

“You’re welcome, Gladys. Have a wonderful weekend.”

With a real man at my side, we walked out of the office, hand in hand.

***

During the week after I had first left James, the kids and I stayed with my mother. That whole week, Mav and I had spoken on the phone every night and had decided to take it slow. That was until he showed up at my job with the promise ring and a U-Haul expecting to move me to Florida.

After the display that he witnessed in my office, he said that he definitely would not spend another day or night without being close to me, so that he could protect me. What he didn’t know was that I had been busy on my own end preparing to be closer to him, too! I had already talked to the CEO of Naytek and negotiated opening a new office in Miami. Once those plans were final, I’d planned to rent an apartment downtown, so that I could be nearer to my true amor. I didn’t want the kids to be too traumatized with me leaving their father and moving in with a new man so fast. So, while I wanted to move in with him more than I wanted my next breath, for the kids’ sake, I decided to continue to take things slow.

Once at mom’s house, I greeted Nazaria and Kelvin in their makeshift play room, which had previously been Mother’s sewing room. She had quickly rearranged the room for them when we moved in, so that they could have a place to play. My babies were playing quietly, and Mother was right by their side, attempting to read a book. I stood in the doorway and watched them play for a few minutes, taking in the essence of three of the most important people in my life. At that moment, I was full of peace, serenity, hope, and encouragement. Finally, they had the harmony they deserved. I had the love that I’d always craved, and with Maverick, I had all the joy my heart could muster.

Sure, my not-so-typical journey to happiness had bumpy roads – lots of them. Yet, each bump was necessary for my ultimate outcome. I wouldn’t be the strong woman that I was without going through all that I had went through with James. Each blow that he had dealt me had taught me something new about myself. I had learned what a resilient person I could be. I had learned that I could go through the very worst storm and come out the other side better than ever.

I had to learn the hard way that the companionship I’d been searching for had come back in a full three sixty – the circle of life. I’d lost Maverick once before, and I didn’t plan to do it again. We are not all lucky enough to be granted second chances, but fate had deemed me worthy enough to get mine. I’d come to the conclusion that beautiful beginnings (like past relationships that we thought had run their course) still hold beauty in the end, if it was in fact ever beautiful at all. Deciding to cherish every moment spent with Maverick, I knew the kids and I were going to have the time of our life that weekend and would continue to do just that, forever.

Chapter 26

Rhonda

The day after my doctor’s appointment, I was itching to tell everyone who would listen the news of my little bundle of joy that was on the way. I’d already called my mother to tell her, along with a host of other family members. I hadn’t gotten around to telling Gladys and the two most important people, Shayla and Titus. Pretty much, I was sick and tired of tiptoeing around Shayla, and I was way past ready to deliver the news to my beloved Titus. I had dialed his cell phone more than a few times in the past few days with no answer. Although I knew that he was dealing with the pressing issues that he had with Big Shirley, all of the violence directed in his direction, and attending to his wife, the information that I had to put in his ear would top it all.

After the fifth unanswered call to his cell in the past hour, I decided to leave a voice message. “Titus, baby, I really need to talk to you. I have some great news for you… for us. Be safe out there, babe, and call me as soon as you can.”

I pressed END on my cell phone, plopped down onto my bed, and rubbed my stomach. There is really a growing baby inside of me, I thought, smiling at the reality of carrying Titus’ child. My smile only faded when I thought about my best friend. I thought of all of the memories that we shared, all of the times that we had went shopping together, worn each other’s clothes, popped popcorn at three in the morning, or fixed each other’s hair for a date. All of those precious memories flashed through my mind as I contemplated sending Shayla a text message to let her know that I was pregnant with her husband’s baby. Even with all of the happiness I was feeling, along with the blessing growing inside of me that I wanted to share with the world, I didn’t have the courage to dial her number to deliver the words that would devastate her life as she knew it woman to woman. But as my hand traveled over the contours of my stomach, I came to the realization that I had a bigger priority than Shayla to worry about now. I had to think of the baby. I had to send her the text and let her know, so that Titus and I could effectively start our life together. Of course I would have rather have told T before Shayla, but if he was out of contact, I couldn’t wait forever. The sooner the better, as they say.

“Oh, well, here goes nothing,” I whispered into the quietness of my bedroom. I pulled out my Blackberry and composed the message that I knew would impact my friend’s life in a massively negative way. I felt a feeling that I hadn’t felt during all of the nights of hot passion and morning quickies I’d had with her husband – guilt.

Dear Shayla,

I want you to believe me when I say that I truly hate to inform you of something of this magnitude in a text message, but I really don’t think I can talk to you about this right now. Titus and I are in love; we really are. I want you to know that I still love you like a sister, BUT I love Titus (and always will) in a way that I have never loved another person. I hope it doesn’t come as too much of a surprise that he and I are having a baby together. I just found out that I was pregnant, and he is definitely the father. I hope that in some way we can find a way to reconcile our friendship, so that you can be in the baby’s life as a Godmother. We always said that when we each had children that we would be each other’s children’s Godmother. I don’t want the fact that this is Titus’ child to change that. I do regret that things turned out the way that they did, but as you once said, we can’t help who we love. Titus and I will be together in the end. I know that for sure. I wish you all the best. Always, Rhonda.

P.S. Call me when you are ready to talk about this.

I pressed SEND on my phone without a moment’s hesitation, and the message went off into text messaging oblivion, soon to arrive on my ex-best friend’s cell phone exposing all of my dirty little secrets. I was comforted by the thought of the wholesome honesty and purity that would grow from this one action. No more lies. No more games. No more frontin’. Everything was on the line for all involved to take note, deal with it, and hopefully move on peacefully. I exhaled a sigh of relief as the message uploaded and cleared my cell phone’s screen. At that moment, my complete hand was exposed, but I was keeping it real with my sister. Wasn’t I?

Suddenly, I sat up on the edge of the bed and felt like I was getting a little lightheaded. The air seemed to be filling my lungs too slowly to provide oxygen to my brain as fast as I needed it. I felt my heart pounding like a bass drum in my chest. My eyes grew wide as I looked over at the Blackberry in a panic anticipating her response. She didn’t send me one.

There was no turning back now. The message had been sent and delivered. No matter how I tried to console myself with good feelings and beliefs, I knew that I had unequivocally let my friend down.             Some old woman once told me that the truth would set me free, but at that very moment I begged to differ. I felt like a bird locked in a cage singing the chain gang blues, wishing, and hoping to one day be free of the sins I’d accumulated over the years. All of those nights I had laid in the dark with her man, enjoying the fruits of her labor, and not caring the least bit how my actions would affect her. I hadn’t even thought about all of the years that she had looked out for me when my own mother had tossed me aside.

With that thought, a feeling of utter shame came over me. My gaze fell to the floor, and I could feel my shoulders hunching up and down. I didn’t realize I was crying until uncontrollable tears soaked my shirt. Was I really crying about indulging in an affair that I craved so badly? Was Titus’ baby growing in my stomach a reason for sorrow? Was the message I’d just sent to my friend truly in the best interest of everyone involved? I thought sending her the message would make me feel better, but if that was true, why did I feel like I’d just been hit by a transfer truck?

Chapter 27

Titus

Lee County don’t be trippin’ once you hit the county! It was one month after I had gotten locked down in that hell hole of a jail cell, and I had gone through a hell of a lot of money on my books, with red tape, pre-trials, court hearings, and lawyer fees. Even though I had set myself up where my hands were practically clean of any actual murders or any proven drug deals, the DA was trying to stick every crime in the city from the last five years in my file. The cops, lawyers, and judges that I thought for sure I had in my pocket were all talking that same shit about their hands being tied. What had I paid them all of these years for? I made a memo to fire all of their fake people-in-high-places asses, like yesterday.

My lawyer that I’d been down with since day one, Klint Kasashki, eventually had to call in a slick cat attorney from Chicago to figure out the loopholes in my case. I realized that it wasn’t until the shit really hit the fuckin’ fan that you found out who you really had on your team, after all. It was only then that I finally was able to get out on a one-million-dollar bond. A million dollars! That bond put a serious dent in my cash flow that already seemed to be dwindling away due to some numbers from the streets that just were not adding up right since I’d been gone. Nevertheless, I was fresh out of the county and ready to get back to business.

When I was escorted up to the front to check out, I noticed my cousin, Jay, standing at the release counter to pick me up. I asked him, “What’s up, my nig? Yo, where is Lil’ Red?” Ever since the fiasco had taken place with Street and Big Shirley, I had sent word from lockup that my next-in-command, Lil’ Red, was supposed to be watching over my business. Now that the money had been funny, my change was strange, and that nigga hadn’t even shown up to scoop me from jail, I knew there was some serious business to take care of on the home front. It was back to the grind, showin’ niggas that a nigga like T wasn’t to be fucked with. These punks was always looking for any opportunity to mess with your paper and your power, and as Street had demonstrated, it didn’t take much to get them to betray you.

“He had some urgent business to take care of, so he sent me,” Jay said, looking as if he had something real serious on his mind. He avoided eye contact and tapped his cigarette box onto his hand. Taking out a cigarette, he lit it and took a long drag. As I looked at him suspiciously, he asked the woman behind the counter, “Is he good to go?” I was getting all kinds of bad vibes from my couzan, because he normally didn’t act funny like that. He knew I would be wanting some answers, but this wasn’t the time or the place.

She ignored him and continued to punch the keys on her keyboard. Once she said, “You’re free to go, Mr. Wilson,” I immediately asked Jay, “What kind of business could Lil’ Red have had to take care of that he couldn’t come and pick me up?”

Jay simply shrugged as we walked out of the building to the car. This shit was smellin’ real foul. Somebody was going to come up with some answers in this piece. I hopped in the driver’s side of my SC10 and peeled out of the courthouse parking lot with a gang of unanswered questions dangling in the air. I had so much business on my mind that I didn’t know which direction to go in first.

I guessed that the first thing I needed to do was find Lil’ Red and find out what was good with the business, like my paper, and then collect all the loose money that was floating around with my generals. It wasn’t going over my head that Jay sat there on the passenger seat, quietly looking out of the window puffing on that cigarette like it was the last one ever made. He was a ticking time bomb, but what the fuck was on his mind?

I looked over at him for a good minute once we hit the stop light, and I knew that he was feeling uncomfortable. Wasn’t no way that he didn’t feel my eyes boring into his skull. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the light turn green. The car behind me blared their horn, then skidded out from behind my car and shot past us on the left. I sat right where I was, with my foot pressing hard on the brake, looking dead at Jay. He looked up at the light, then quickly looked at me with questions behind his eyes. I returned his look with one of my own. We wasn’t going nowhere fast until I got some goddamn answers. As far as I was concerned, we could sit there all motha fuckin’ day. My cuz knew that I wasn’t up for no funny business type shit. He’d better start talking fast.

Finally, he took a deep breath. One last drag off of his cigarette, and Jay let go of what had been bothering him. “Shayla is gone, man.”

He had been watching my house for me while I was in jail, as he had been instructed to do. I didn’t know if someone from the families of the men who had gotten shot during the Big Shirley incident would take it upon themselves to retaliate against my family while I was locked up, so I couldn’t be too careful. In the process of watching my place, he had noticed that Shayla had moved her things out of our home and wasn’t at my niece, Tanya’s, house either. Come to find out, he had just gotten word the day before, through a good source, that she had an apartment in Columbus and some Spanish mother fucker had helped her move.

I paused, taking in the silence for a minute. Jay looked back out of his window.

“Yeah, right, my nigga! That’s not a good attempt at telling a joke.” I cracked a little giggle, just to make him feel good for trying to amuse me. I started the car rolling forward again, turning my head forward towards the road. I kept waiting for him to get to the punch line, or at least tell me that if she had moved, she was smoking crack, as well. I knew good and well that my wife had to be on something serious if she thought that the news of her letting some random dude pack her up and move her to another city was going to go over without repercussions. That’s when I remembered that she’d only been to the jailhouse to see me twice the whole time I was in county. I didn’t find it too strange at the time, because I had told her not to worry about coming to visit me and to hold herself together until I got out. I assured her that everything would be all right and told her to keep living her life. Little did I know that living her life apparently meant living it – without me.

On the other hand, once Rhonda had found out where I was, she was up there every chance she got for visitation. One of my boys had hipped her to what had happened once I had thought about it enough to tell them to inform her. I knew that she would have been worried about a nigga, and I was right. She told me that she had been trying to call and text me for weeks to tell me the big news.

That was one thing about Rhonda. I knew that she cared, and she always kept it 100. When I thought about it, we’d been fuckin’ around for years, and she’d never been with another nigga, as far as I’d known. No matter what bullshit I had thrown at her, she had been there for a nigga – even though I was married and always kept Shayla at the forefront of all of my thoughts. I had to give her credit for that. I never had to second-guess where Ronnie’s loyalty lied. In fact, I probably would have been more surprised if Jay had been telling me that she was seeing someone else while I was in lockdown. Wasn’t that some shit?

I realized that I was so caught up in the drama about me and Rhonda’s baby that I hadn’t even thought about what Shayla was up to. I was just happy that Shayla wasn’t aware of that shit. I don’t know what I would have done if my wife had found out that we were expecting a child while I was away in jail, not able to comfort her and let her know that I was…

Shit! What if Rhonda told her about the baby? I slammed my fist into the steering wheel, causing Jay to jump in his seat.

“Hey, man… shit… calm the fuck down, T!” He exclaimed, snapping his seatbelt into place.

Ignoring my couzan, I fumed, thinking about the possibility that Rhonda would be stupid enough to tell Shayla our business when I told her not to say a word and that I would handle it once I got out. Between my case and the bombshell news Rhonda had dropped on me about the baby, Shayla’s absence had seemed like a blessing in disguise. I was happy that she didn’t come to see me much while I was locked down, like an animal in a cage, with a secret baby waiting for me once I got out. Interrupting my thoughts, Jay continued to be a bearer of bad news.

“Well, shit, T, since you pissed the fuck off already… There is really no good way to say this, man, so I’m just going to give it to you straight, no chaser. The word is that Shayla is taking advice from some Hispanic kid that Tanya goes to school with. They’re not living together or nothing fucked up like that, but I don’t know for sure if they are seeing each other. One thing I know for sure is that he did talk her into getting away from the entire situation once Rhonda sent her that text message about your baby being on the way…”

Thank God we had made it to the next stop light, because his words instinctively caused me to shut my eyes and put my head down on the steering wheel. I gripped that bitch until my knuckles damn near turned white. All of the get down to the business and happy-go-lucky spirit I had when I left the jail house left my body. I couldn’t be losing my wife. I loved that woman to death. I mean, I really loved her to death.

“Man, T, you want me to drive, my nigga?” Jay sounded nervous. He should have been. I was seeing red. I lifted my head and looked up at the sky through my windshield.

“Are you serious, Jay?” I put the car in park, and within seconds I had him by front of his shirt. This time we were on a residential street, and there was no traffic behind or near me to witness my body leaned over into the passenger’s seat, my face inches in front of Jay’s. “I know if you had the balls to step to me with this, you’d make sure that it wasn’t some half-cocked bullshit lie?”

Jay knew the consequences of darkening my first lady’s name without sufficient evidence, because he’d watched me pistol whip a corner boy for simply whistling at her before. The poor cat hadn’t known what hit him when I gripped that nine and busted his lip open to the white meat. Cousin or no cousin, Jay could only imagine what I would do if his accusation about wifey possibly cheating and moving out of our home on the advice of some kid wasn’t legit.

He leaned back outside the window as far as he could and dropped his cigarette to the concrete.  I watched his eyes get real wide, exposing the redness in them that was a side effect of smoking too much herb on a regular basis. Spit started to dribble out the side of his mouth as he stuttered in comprehensibly. Jay was searching for the best way to let me know that the man I’d hired to clean my pool was also performing routine psychotherapy on my wife, advising her to leave me just because I had a fuckin’ baby on the way.

“Calm down, man! Shit… come on, cuz! You’re acting like I’m fucking her or something,” he said, aggravated with my frustration. He yanked his shirt from my hands and tried to push me off of him within the confines of the car.  “I’m just putting you up on what’s been going on since you’ve been in. Shit, someone’s got to tell you this shit… goddamn!”

I quickly digressed and backed up, sitting back in the driver’s seat. Taking a breath, I rubbed the top of my head and rocked back and forth in the seat. Jay readjusted himself, and I could hear his heavy breathing slow down to a regular pace. He turned again and looked out of the window, avoiding my eyes.

Finally, I said, “Fair enough, kin folk, but you could have came and told me this as soon as it happened. Look here, cuz, I just got out the county. I’m tired, hungry, and ready to see my fuckin’ wifey. On top of that, you stepped to me tap dancing around a very important subject. How did you expect me to respond? Come up in the damn lockup looking shifty and puffin’ them damn cigarettes, not sayin’ shit. You know better than that, Jay. Now, you have ten seconds to spit everything out, or Shayla is not going to be the only one in need of a doctor tonight.” I put my hand on his pistol that was at his side in the seat, and said, “Now, turn your punk ass around, and look at me when you speak. Start from the fuckin’ beginning. You’re making me nervous with all that cigarette puffing and looking crazy.”

Finally, he sang like a canary. “You know that pool cleaning cat, Antonio, or Anthonio, that you hired a few months back to put in some house work for you?”

I searched my mind to remember the young guy whose hustle I’d admired. He seemed like good people, which is why I hired him. I raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah.”

“Take a look at this security video from Tanya’s house from about three weeks ago.” He pulled a DVD from his back pocket and handed it to me. I took it and started going forward in the car again. I pulled over to the side of the road to get out of any future oncoming traffic. As soon as we were parked, Jay snapped off his seatbelt. “I think that you’ll find all of the evidence that you need on the video to confirm what I’m trying to tell you, cuz. Also, look at the video from your house two weeks ago when she moved out.”

I sneered at him angrily. I wished he would just finish the story, instead of giving me tapes to review, but if the truth was ugly, maybe I should see it for myself. I took the DVD and slowly slid it into the built-in DVD player in my car. I braced myself for whatever was to come as the player prepared to play the damaging video.

Chapter 28

Shayla

Anthonio and I had stayed in constant contact from the first time he visited to work on our pool for my party. It had been completely innocent and platonic communication, that is, until I got the news about Titus’ baby. When I received that text, my whole mind went blank. I felt like the world had stopped spinning on its axis. It was like all of the nightmares that I had been afraid of for so long had decided to come true all at once. I couldn’t think of the first step to take, or even the first thought to think. I sat dumbly down at my kitchen table and stared off into space. In a daze, I picked up my house phone. Once I’d started to breathe again, Anthonio was the first person that I contacted.

He’d given me so much encouragement and advice in the short time that I’d known him that I felt like I had known him for years. I did have to admit that having him show me such genuine care and concern the way that he did at a time when I was at my very lowest caused me to start having feelings for him that I wasn’t ready to have again. However, as it turned out, after being betrayed and violated in such a horrendous way by two of the closest people in my life, having someone new show me some true kindness was exactly what I needed. I allowed him to comfort me and give me everything that I needed.

Regardless of how amazing he was, I had wanted to take things slow, because I didn’t want him to feel like a rebound man. I knew that jumping into a relationship so fast after coming out of another one was like playing Russian roulette. More importantly, I didn’t know how Titus was going to react to the news that I had moved out of our home while he was locked up, and his reaction was at the top of my worry list. I knew the moment Titus touched his feet on free soil that he was going to come looking for answers as to why I was not at home. I knew my husband, and he wasn’t the type to let something like this go. He was a man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted, but in this case, he wasn’t going to get me back – ever. Titus wasn’t going to take any of this lightly, but since it was all a direct result of his own indiscretions, what could he say? This was the final straw. I’d be damned if I was going to play Godmother to my husband and best friend’s child!

Despite all of the things running through my head, I was still very much aware of Antonio standing in my new kitchen cooking dinner and speaking in his Spanish tongue to me.

“Te quiero. Te amo, Shayla. Mi Amor. Quiero pasar el resto de mi vida contigo. Te quiero con toda mi alma,” he said in response to my ambivalence to open up to him.

Really? My Spanish was sketchy, but I knew the meaning of those words. He wanted me? He loved me? He wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, and he wanted me with all of his soul? It was all so overwhelming. His tender words of adoration were innocent, but they jarred something deep in my spirit. The sweet expressions of love were something that I’d truly been missing over the years from the man that I had wanted to hear them from the most.

Emotions that I was not ready or willing to bring to the surface were making their way to the edge, as words that I had craved to hear from my husband freely poured from this man’s lips into my ear. Was it a little too little, a little too late? Had I lost my ability to love? Had those two conniving heathens ruined me to be able to trust and care for someone openly again? That thought sent me over the edge. I sat back in my chair, folded my arms across my chest, and hot tears rolled down each of my cheeks.

Managing to speak through the tears, I said, “Anthonio, if I give you a chance, promise you will not disrespect me. Just promise to be the same man five years from now that you are today.”

Realizing that his words had affected me, Anthonio quickly turned down the burners and gave the food one last stir. Moving away from the delicious smelling pots on the stove and walking over to stand in front of me, he gently wiped away my tears. His look of sincerity was so pure that I couldn’t second-guess him. “I will do that and so much more,” he said, leaning in to kiss my lips.

“I may not be able to give you what you deserve right now. You deserve a woman who will live out the fairytale love affair that your calm spirit deserves. I cannot give you that, not with all of the drama I’m going through.” My gaze fell to the floor. My heart was in limbo, caught between going back through the same raggedy door that I was used to, or opening a new shiny door to experience new possibilities.

“Shhh… I only deserve you.” He pressed his finger against my lip hushing my negative thoughts. Slowly lifting me out of my seat to stand eye to eye with him, he whispered, “Don’t say those things, Shayla. You just have to let me to love you. That’s all I ask.”

The barriers I had previously built to protect my heart from ever loving again were slowly melting away. “I will, Antonio,” I said, softly, beginning to feel whole again, but would this feeling last long enough to start over?

***

One week later, I moved tirelessly about my new apartment. Although my energy level was zero, I unpacked boxes and arranged new furniture neatly in my new cozy two-bedroom home in Columbus, Georgia. I knew that they said not to kick a man when he was down, but I knew that finally leaving Titus behind was the best thing that I could have done for myself. After all of the pain and heartache that I had endured over the last few years – hell, nearly our whole marriage – I was determined to get my life back in order.

No sooner than I’d written off that part of my life, my cell phone rang, and it was Titus’ cell number. I paused, looked at the phone, and then dropped it like a hot potato. His calling could only mean one thing – he was out of jail and looking for me. Avoiding him would only make matters worse, so I decided to just answer his call to give us both the closure that we needed.

“Hello, Titus.” My voice was tight and firm. Even though I was a bundle of nerves, I didn’t plan to give him any room for taking charge of our call. He had to know that I was his equal counterpart at this point, and not some dumbfounded female caught under his mystical wifey spell.

“Don’t you ‘Hello, Titus’ me, Shayla, sounding like you’re the one upset. Look, I need you to come back home, baby. I miss you, and I’m sorry for everything –  me getting locked up… the baby.” I heard him inhale, holding his breath. He actually had an air of sincerity in his voice.

I could feel my stomach tie up in knots. Yes, I had already gotten the text, but to have him finally admit his relationship with Rhonda and confirm that all of my past fears and doubts were right on point was enough to solidify our divorce for me. I started pacing my bedroom floor and then walked out into the hallway for more walking space. Though I wanted to stay firm, my voice shook as I told him, “No, Titus, you don’t need anything from me. You never have. What you need is to take care of your child and give me a chance to find true happiness for once, whether that is by myself or with someone who knows how to appreciate someone like me.”

Obviously the thought of my happiness being with another man jarred something in him, because he raised his voice and said, “What’s up with this nigga you’re fucking around with? What makes you think you can cheat on me?!”

“What made you think that you could get my best friend pregnant and essentially assist in ruining a friendship that I have had since I was a child? What makes you think you can call me and talk about how much you need me now? You didn’t need me when you were between Rhonda’s legs, so why need me now? You didn’t need me when you turned into a big shot and could never find your way home, so why need me now? You didn’t need me once you got your business kicked off, and the money started rolling in! I was less than a woman to you then, so why need me now? Besides, I’m not cheating on you, because your divorce paperwork is in the mail. Sign them, and turn your need to Rhonda.”

“Shayla,” he sighed, and then paused as if he was struggling to find his next words. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’ve heard it before, but not like this. I am very sorry for the way I treated you and for raising my voice. I know Rhonda told you about her baby, but that baby might not even be mine. You should think about that. You could be throwing our marriage away for nothing, Shay. For real.”

“Might? Might means it might be yours. It means you were there in position to be a potential father of the child, and I don’t want any part of my husband being a possible father of my best friend’s child. That doesn’t work for me, Titus. You should think about that!” I continued to pace the hallway floor, rubbing my throbbing temples to relieve the pangs that were shooting through my head. How in the world did I end up having this conversation with my husband? In whose world is this normal?

His utter disrespect of our marriage, the new baby with Rhonda, the constant fear of police raids, or even worse, the next “Big Shirley” that would inevitably come about if Titus continued his current lifestyle, was just not worth it. Of course, there was a time when I would have risked it all just to be able to spend my life with Titus. That was when I felt that it was me and him against the world. Sounding defeated, Titus, blew a long breath into the phone.

“Okay, Shay. I’ll admit that I really messed up, but I hope that one day you find it in your heart to, at least, forgive me. We have a lot of history together and, I don’t know, somewhere down the line things got messed up.” This time when he spoke it didn’t sound like game. It honestly sounded as if he hoped that one day we could see eye to eye again. I could respect that.

“You are already forgiven, Titus. I know first hand how money and power has the ability to change people, especially when they aren’t used to it. I just can’t live like that anymore. I never disrespected you the entire time we were married, yet I took disrespect from you on a daily basis. I honestly hope that you and Rhonda are able to find something to love in each other.”

With the mention of my husband and best friend as a couple, those were my final words to him. I pressed END on my cell phone and walked into my bedroom. In order to keep my mind occupied, I continued to put my clothes up in the closet. Titus had apologized instead of trying to act a fool. I felt relieved and hopeful that that phase of my life was coming to a surprisingly peaceful close.

I knew that some women would say that I should have been a ranting and raving manic. They’d tell me that they would have reacted differently, and they’d have gone after Titus and Rhonda both. If a woman were to tell me something like that, I would know immediately that she had never been in my situation. It’s easy to say what someone else should have done, or what you think you would have done, but when you are in the middle of a situation and you are experiencing it for yourself, things are much different.

I’d been beaten down for so long by Titus and his trifling ways that finally just getting it all out in the open and being able to release myself from his chains was a relief. I had gotten my anger out towards Rhonda when I stood in front of her apartment door looking at Titus’ car in the parking lot, knowing that they were doing things that only he and I should have ever been doing. At the point when everything finally came to a head and Titus had been caught red-handed, I was just tired. I was tired of the lies, tired of the deceit, and tired of the pretending. I was more than tired – I was exhausted. I didn’t want to kill them or get revenge. I just wanted them to leave me alone and end all of the drama in my life that I didn’t deserve.

It was funny how God had a way of bringing us all back to square one. Just when we thought that we could handle life on our own terms, he snaps us back into reality. Living in the midst of chaos and dishonesty had led me a long way from being perfect during my spiritual journey, but I had taken baby steps over the past few weeks through meditation and prayer. Going through adversity like the kind I had experienced puts you in a different place spiritually. It reminds you of what is important in life.

I turned on my latest Yolanda Adams CD and listened to the encouraging melody, Never Give Up. As I stood in my newly found meager surroundings, praising God and appreciating myself wholly, I was happy to find that the blessings that surrounded me now were worth a hundred times more than the millions that I had had before. I was determined to never give up.

Epilogue: Shayla

4 months later

There comes a time in every woman’s life that she has to make a change for the better. My career as a clinical psychologist has finally grown fruitful. I’ve found a job working as a part-time clinical psychologist with the Clinical Psychologists of Alabama. I love every minute of working with my clients and the feeling of independence I experience on each and every payday. As for the small pitter patter of feet running through the house that I had craved so much, I haven’t taken a pregnancy test, but I didn’t get a monthly visitor last month (smile). Also, Anthonio has asked me to marry him twice already. The man is in ready to tie the knot, but I’m still thinking that we need more time. My heart is still in the process of healing. However, if my doctor gives me news of a baby we may be headed down the altar sooner than later.

As far as my girl, Rhonda, she might have gotten the guy, but she didn’t get the happiness. She wouldn’t be getting to live it up all lavish with my husband like she had planned. I tried to tell her that there was only one me, so how was she going to try to be me when she didn’t have the formula? I was the one that stayed in class late, studied late, and was a whiz when it came to business, books, and psychology. I was also the one that worked beside Titus for years providing him with the much of the brains behind his operation. Without me by his side, all of that business had slowly gone faulty – only when he stopped including me in on decision making. Suddenly, he thought that he could go it all alone. I was there before he got the big head, and Street ended up selling him out. I had earned my keep by helping him earn our millions. He knew his next move a lot of times only because I was counseling him, but when he got too big to listen to me, Big Shirley rolled in and made him small time. Yeah, it was when he got too big for ‘lil ole me’, who had his back before the money rolled in, that the streets ate him alive and spit out the bones. People may have thought I was just this stupid little broad who just played the role of a kept woman, but little did they know who was really the brains behind the operation. I was smart enough to know that Titus needed to be the enforcer and the face behind our business, so I tried to let him do HIM. Unfortunately, doing him meant screwing me – go figure.

To date, Lil’ Red and his crew had taken over every street corner doing drug business in east Alabama, holding down every block from here to Albuquerque. By the time Titus figured out that Street was robbing the business blind and working undercover for Big Shirley, it was a wrap for the multi-million dollar business that we had set up from nothing but a hope and a dream. Lil’ Red was Titus’ second-in-command, but what Titus hadn’t banked on was that Lil’ Red had held more loyalty for Street than for him. When Street had gotten gunned down at the hotel by my wonderful husband, Lil’ Red secretly harbored more than a little bit of resentment. He had acted like he was down for Titus when he had gotten locked up, but in reality, he was more than ready to move into the number one spot and avenge Street’s death. I guess loyalty is harder to find than snow in Alabama.

Titus knew what betrayal felt like up close and personal, then. When Lil’ Red set up that final hit to steal the last million from his Titus’ rim shop in California, it was a total wrap for him ever getting his baller status back up. As slimy as Street and Lil’ Red had turned out to be, I don’t harbor any bad feelings for either of them. Believe it or not, I really didn’t have any bad feelings for Titus and Rhonda either, who had officially moved in together and were expecting their daughter in a few months. I should have still felt the residual emotions of anger, hurt, betrayal, disgust, and a million other negative feelings, but I did not. I thank God for that small favor.

After he got out of jail and realized from our phone conversation that I had truly moved on and was not coming back to his trifling tail, he used the video that captured Anthonio and I hugging one evening at Tanya’s house as an easy out to go be with his baby mama. I knew what that was really all about. His ego wouldn’t allow me to leave, so he had to make it seem like he left me to be with Rhonda.

That was ok by  me. Whatever it took for him to release me and allow me to finally find happiness elsewhere was just fine. He wouldn’t be doing me any favors by staying with me. Thanks, but no thanks. He and I both knew that after that last conversation, I was done.

As for my girl Gladys, she is living life to the fullest and couldn’t be happier. I had filled her in on all of the grimy details about what had happened between Titus, Rhonda, and I, and she couldn’t believe the news. In all honesty, she was more surprised than I was when I first caught the two of those trifling assholes in my den. Gladys had never really trusted Rhonda, but she never thought that she would stoop so low as to betray one of us – the Sisters-from-Another-Mother. Gladys tried to comfort me and be my shoulder to cry on, but it was unnecessary. I guess I may have been more upset if Anthonio hadn’t entered my life when he did, but since he was providing me with all that my little heart could desire in the form of a newly budding love, I supposed that I was just relieved to know that it was finally all over between me and Titus. He was my hot Latin distraction, and I am so grateful for his sincere love and affection.

I guess you could say that all three of us are happy. That’s if you include Rhonda. Even though she was scurvy with what she did to me, at least she’s happy. Titus was what she wanted, and she got him. I know what awaits her with him, though. Once a dog, always a dog, as they say, but I honestly hope that they can work something out for the sake of their love child. It’s not the child’s fault that it is being brought into this world in the midst of lies, dishonor, and betrayal. Rhonda has had a really painful life, and I know better than anyone the hurt that she has been through because I witnessed some of it with my own eyes. Some people are able to pass through that kind of fire unscathed, but others, like Rhonda, come out of the other side scarred and burned looking to hurt someone else as badly as they themselves have been hurt. I was once the target of her malice, but I am a victim no more.

THE END