Chapter 14
J
ada relaxed on the white cushioned lounge chair at her beachfront Malibu home. Wide blue waves quietly washed up on the private shore. On numerous occasions, residents of the county had unsuccessfully petitioned for publicizing the entire oceanfront. Jada couldn’t imagine strangers loitering outside her residence, so she refused to sign the petitions and voted against the propositions. Quietly, she stood and placed the cordless phone on the leatherlike seat. Although leather and saltwater wasn’t a good combination, vinyl felt too harsh.
Rising from his chair, Lawrence said, “Honey, I’m going to cook dinner.”
“Oh, great. Surprise me.” Jada reached for his hand, pulled him close, and licked his lips.
“Keep that up and you’ll be served up on a platter.” Lawrence smiled and went inside.
She knew he meant what he’d said. Jada rolled up her pant legs. Thirty steps later sand and water meshed underneath her feet and seeped between her toes. At times her mango polish sank so deep the color was buried and all she saw was wet white sand. The light wind caressed her high cheekbones and softly weaved throughout her hair. Dying out the first strands of gray had subtracted almost ten years from her appearance. Besides, gray was Jada’s least favorite color. The warmth from the sun covered her face as haunting memories flooded her mind.
How was she to know Darryl would be at Darius’s game signing autographs? That was all Darius talked about. He framed his uniform and hung it on his bedroom wall. Then for Darryl to surface as Darius’s basketball coach, too. How could she show her face at Darius’s games and risk Darius finding out the truth? Obviously, Darryl already knew. Offering Darius a scholarship was probably his way of making up for lost time.
Continuing her walk, the cotton outfit with a matching pink jacket protected her. Aerosols and other products humans couldn’t or wouldn’t live without may have been breaking down the ozone layer, but not her silky skin. On the other hand, her secret was eating away her insides like maggots feasting on a dead cow.
Gazing at the sky, she saw the huge yellow circle had begun to descend behind the clouds. Her wavering hand swayed in the air, volunteering to trade places so she’d have a new spot to hide her information. Amazingly, no one discovered the truth, because as a child playing hide-and-go-seek, she was always the first found. Hypnotized by bright orange streaks blending to create red ones, Jada stood still and relived the moment of discovery when she’d received Dr. Bates’s phone call.
Some things hadn’t changed. The same ivy plant from her Baldwin Hills home now decorated her ceiling-to-floor patio windows. Invisible walls of glass surrounded the backside of their Malibu home, providing a cozy indoor/outdoor feeling. Guests routinely walked past the four inside columns and almost into the windows, so Jada had attached the plant to clear plastic suctioned hangers to avoid being responsible for any accidents.
Returning to her beach lounge chair, Jada exhaled, wondering why she’d been so careless. She picked up the cordless, sat, and placed the phone in her lap. Her long, dark chocolate legs caressed but didn’t cross each other. Clumps of sand fell from the bottoms of her feet. The aroma of Lawrence’s cooking made her hungrier.
While searching for a new home for Darius and her, Jada had instantly fallen in love with Malibu and its beachfront homes. Despite the temptation, being pregnant made her think twice about living too close to the water, so Jada had sold her Baldwin Hills condo and moved to Orange County near Wellington’s sister, Jazzmyne. Once Darius turned ten and Jada married Lawrence, her husband had bought her a Malibu dream house situated on one-point-five acres.
Their ten-thousand-square-foot home included six bedrooms, eight and a half baths, a gymnasium, a guest suite, staff quarters—although they rarely requested workers stay overnight—a four-car limo garage, a wine cellar with a tasting room, a pool, a spa, a lighted tennis court, and not to mention the master suite with a fireplace, a sitting area, and spacious his and her baths with separate walk-in closets. Lawrence didn’t tell her the price, and she never asked. Jada’s only wish was that everything wasn’t on one level, but Daddy always said, “Never nag a man who puts his family first.”
Looking out over the ocean, Jada’s head swiftly moved short distances to the left and right, trying to erase the past. When her phone rang, Jada realized both the moon and the sun were exposed. Her hand roamed across her lap as the ring tone repeated. Her stomach growled so loudly it could have answered for her. She picked up the cordless. Every time she mentally regurgitated her secret, her palms became clammy. Without looking at the caller ID, she sensed it was Wellington.
Drying her hands on her jacket, Jada solemnly answered, “Hello.”
“Hi, ba. How are you?”
“Great, as always,” Jada stated. Not that she was feeling that way, but that was what Wellington was accustomed to hearing. After Jada married Lawrence, they created codes for phone talk. Great meant they could speak openly. Fine was for keep it clean; Lawrence or Simone was within ear range. Okay indicated it wasn’t a good time for conversation.
“Is everything all set for Darius’s birthday party Friday night? Can you believe our son is going to be twenty years old? Do you need me to do anything?” Wellington offered.
Jada pressed the mute button. After twenty years did it matter? She’d planned on telling him when Darius was born, then after Darius turned five. Again, she’d contemplated doing so when Darryl autographed Darius’s uniform, but that wasn’t a good time either. “Lord, show me a green light for perfect timing.” Would it be another two decades before she revealed the truth? Or would Jada remain silent the rest of their lives?
Turning off the mute, she said, “No. Thanks. Denise volunteered to coordinate the party, and she has everything under control.”
“Okay. Great. I fly into L.A. Thursday evening around six. You think your should-have-been husband can borrow you away from your husband for an hour or two?” Wellington laughed.
“I’m working late Thursday. But I’ll meet you at our usual place at say eight o’clock.” Yes, indeed. After all this time—ten years of marriage included—Wellington still made Jada feel the same way as the night they had met in San Francisco. Just as Rachelle Farrell had sung the last song of the evening especially for them, the lyrics inevitably true: “Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This.”
“Great. I’ll see you at the Beach Café at eight. Hey?”
“Yes, Wellington.” Jada smiled, because she knew he was getting ready to earn it.
“Wear a bikini underneath your business suit.”
“Bye, Wellington.” The Beach Café was the best hideaway in Malibu. With wooden chairs and tables right on the water, patrons could swim while waiting for their food.
“Bye, my Nubian queen.”
Jada walked into the kitchen, returned the phone to its cradle, and joined her husband in their dining room for dinner.
Chapter 15
W
ellington packed his suitcase and little Wellington II’s diaper bag. Simone would arrive soon to pick up their son. Fortunately, everything went in the bag except diapers, mainly a change of clothes and toys to keep Junior occupied while in his car seat.
Looking at Junior’s smiling face, Wellington’s lips parted as his son’s cheeks rose higher; then he said, “Everybody loves JR.”
Junior chimed in on cue, “It’s like I’m ’ma mobie star.”
“That’s my boy. Give Daddy a hug.”
At the age of two, Junior’s speech had improved. Junior benefited from Darius’s upbringing in many ways. Jada insisted on correct pronunciation from day one. Darius was never taught da-da, always daddy. His
r
s and
t
s were clearly pronounced. Since being proper wasn’t cool with the current hip-hop generation, Wellington noticed when Darius spoke with his peers he often rolled his
r
s saying, “Herrr,” instead of here and, “Therrr,” versus there. Darius was a faster learner than Junior, not that Junior was slow. Darius’s IQ was off the chart, but he was also arrogant and overconfident. Junior was potty trained at twenty-four months and Darius at eighteen. Junior still pissed on the floor, but at least he’d learned how to go to the bathroom. Just like Darius, Junior had the best worlds from both parents, but Wellington remained hopeful that one day he and Jada would unite in holy matrimony.
Wellington loved both of his sons. He also adored Simone Smith-Jones. But the ugly divorce from Melanie had left him with cold feet, and sixteen years had passed before he remarried. The fact that Jada had moved on with her life years ago still bothered him.
Wellington and Simone dated off and on for thirteen years before their private wedding ceremony almost three years ago. Only their family and closest friends were invited. Wellington’s father Keith, Cynthia, and Melanie surprisingly came together. Simone could plan everything her way as long as his sister, Jazzmyne, was matron of honor. Simone liked Jazzmyne and was honored to have her in their wedding, but refused to send Jada an invitation. Little did Simone know Melanie was the one she needed to watch.
The moment Wellington said, “I do,” Simone started saying, “No, you won’t.” Since when did a grown man need permission to leave his own house? Six months of asking himself, “Who is the woman?” ended with a divorce. Better safe than sorry. The out-of-court settlement to his first wife, Melanie, definitely cost more than she was worth—ten thousand dollars. Wellington quickly decided they were all better off living apart, so he evicted Simone’s tenants and moved her back into her home in Danville.
After the phone rang twice, Simone’s name flashed across the caller ID. Wellington picked up the handset and said, “The door is open.” Simone seldom knocked, because after she moved out, he changed the locks and declined her request for a key. Simone tried to slip him her house keys by leaving them on his nightstand, but Wellington politely returned them via U.S. Postal Service insured mail. Certified mail held a lower priority, and he wanted to be reassured Simone’s keys wouldn’t get lost in transit.
Simone stepped into the living room wearing a sleeveless, mustard yellow dress and no pantyhose. Wellington gently put his arms around her. Gliding his fingers through her honey-golden shoulder-length hair and softly kissing Simone’s neck, he said, “You look nice.” Slowly he rocked, and Simone instantly swayed in unison. Simone’s youthfulness was refreshing. “You smell good, too,” Wellington said. Suddenly the pitter-patter of Junior’s little feet sounded, so they stopped.
“There’s my little man. How’s Mommy’s baby?” Simone stooped, and Junior ran as fast as he could to give her a hug. Simone caught him in midair. Junior wrapped his chubby legs as far as he could around Simone’s waist. Simone’s 38DD breasts and forty-six-inch hips were disproportionate to her thirty-inch waistline, but as far as Wellington was concerned, everything was in the right place, especially Simone’s heart.
“Hi, Mommy.” Junior pecked Simone on her lips.
Admiring his woman, Wellington shook his head and said, “Um, um, um.” Simone was a large, sexy woman, five feet, seven inches and two hundred pounds solid, no flab. Women would flirt with Wellington and then turn their noses up at Simone as if to say, “What does he see in her?” He could have answered them, but there was no need. Simone was confident and had every right to be so. Next to Jada, she was the most creative woman Wellington had experienced in and out of the bedroom.
“Lucky for you he’s awake.” Simone winked and flicked her pink tongue. Then she made that smacking sound when her tongue suctioned against the roof of her mouth and released. “I’ll hook you up after you get back from L.A.” Simone teased with a pucker of her lips, then asked, “Darius’s party is tonight?”
Wellington and Simone managed to remain an item and continued dating after their divorce. Jada had taught him how to be a true friend, which made the growth of his relationship with Simone easier. When they first met, Simone was twenty-one and definitely no virgin. After their first year together, all she wanted was for Wellington to father her child. Although she was of legal age, he felt she was barley out of the cradle herself. At the time they decided to become parents, Simone was thirty-three and worried about her biological clock. Afraid she was only after his money, he delayed fathering another year, feeling Simone out. The love, comfort, and support she gave him reassured Wellington she definitely wasn’t chasing his wallet.
After Simone became pregnant, marriage was Wellington’s idea, believing family unity was best. As often as he confided in Jada, she knew very little about Simone—until they married—but Simone certainly knew all about Jada
Diamond
Tanner from week one.
“The party’s tomorrow. I’m just going early to help out. I’ll be back Monday.” Wellington squeezed Simone’s breast while Junior wasn’t looking.
“Monday, huh?” Simone put her hand on her curvy hip, held Junior on the other side, blocking his access, and said, “She’s married, Wellington. Diamond is a married woman and has been for ten long years.”
“I’m not staying because of her,” Wellington said, hoping Jada would be able to get away for more than just tonight. Two black suitcases sat at the door. One oversized bag contained his clothes, and the other carry-on had Darius’s birthday presents. A remote control car, video games, a digital watch that kept time in every country, and a stock portfolio, amongst other items, filled the smaller bag, which would accompany him on the flight.
Simone had never found her soul mate, so Wellington knew she couldn’t relate. Understanding how one could unite with and depart from one’s soul mate and then spend the rest of one’s life longing for that person was like trying to solve ten Rubik cubes in two seconds. Wellington looked at Simone and said, “Stop talking crazy in front of Junior before his terrible twos roll over to three.” Time was truly his friend. Wellington could easily pass for forty-five and double as an older Morris Chestnut. He still shaved his goatee, maintained his mustache, and continued to shave his head bald. A few crow’s-feet had developed around the corners of his eyes, but they showed only when he smiled or squinted.
“Seems like he’s not the only one suffering from the terrible twos. You are too stuck on Miss Goody Two Shoes. How many times have I told you that Darius is probably not your son? But no, you don’t believe me. I had to take a blood test, but not Miss Perfect. Just wait and see. But I love you anyway.” Simone abruptly kissed his cheek.
“Brother.” Junior smiled. “He’s on the plane, Mommy. He’s coming to see me?” Junior clapped and kicked his feet.
“I told you to stop saying crazy things in front of our son.”
Simone had met Darius, and Darius had met Junior, but Simone didn’t want Jada anywhere near Junior. If Wellington told Darius how Simone felt, then Darius would tell Jada, and then Wellington would have to explain. So he made up excuses each time Jada asked to see his son. Some things were better left unsaid. If only he had believed that when he cheated on Jada with Melanie, maybe Jada wouldn’t have left him.
“Okay, you’re right.” Simone placed Junior on his feet. “Junior, go to your playroom,” Simone instructed. Wellington’s downstairs family room had been converted so their son would have play areas on both floors. The paneled walls were replaced with clear fiberglass so they could watch Junior from the living room.
“Okay, Mommy.” Junior happily ran off, saying, “Brother’s coming.”
Simone sat on the sofa next to Wellington. “Ask her if he’s your son. What are you afraid of?
If
he’s your son, then we can introduce her to Junior. The child looks exactly like her but nothing like you. Ask her this weekend.”
There went Simone making demands again as though she was in control. “There is no
if
as far as I’m concerned. Darius will be twenty years old tomorrow. I’m the only father he knows. If someone else was his father, Jada would have told me.”
“Baby, listen to me.” Simone sighed heavily. “It’s time you know for sure; that’s all I’m saying. It isn’t fair.”
What was this conversation really about? Why was Simone being so persistent? Since he was getting older, maybe she was concerned about Junior’s inheritance. Wellington responded, “Life isn’t fair.”
Simone slapped her thighs. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Well, let’s say hypothetically Jada did lie and Darius isn’t my son. That’s the worse that can happen. Right?” Wellington nodded in response to his own question. “I’ll assume she did it because his real father is an asshole like mine—”
“Don’t you
dare
try to justify her actions! So you’re basically saying even if she’s lying, you’ve already forgiven her?” Simone leaned back, folded her arms, and frowned.
“Basically, yes. If that’s the worst thing she’s done, I can live with that. I’ve hurt her before, and she’s forgiven me, so why can’t I do the same? Besides, Jada wouldn’t lie to me about being the father. I love her, and no matter how hard I try to deny it, the shit is real, Simone.” Wellington moved to the edge of the blue custom-designed plaid sofa. All shades of blue had become his favorite colors: royal, dark, sky, aqua, and pale.
“But you love me, too, Wellington.” Simone fluttered her eyelashes.
“True, but not like Jada, and you know that. Hear me out, Simone.” Wellington scooted closer to Simone, lowered his voice, and spoke deliberately. “Have you ever met someone for the very first time and instantly felt you wanted to share the rest of your life with that person? The moment I laid eyes on Jada, my heart damn near stopped beating. We exchanged phone numbers. I was hanging out with my buddy Walter, probably had one drink too many, and couldn’t find her number the next day. I tore up this house upstairs, downstairs, and my Benz, desperately searching. It took nine days. Actually, the woman at the dry cleaners found it. You don’t know how happy I was to get that card.”
Simone sarcastically said, “If you gave her yours, why didn’t she call you?”
“Because she’s a lady. And she’s always made me feel like a man. Some women are so independent they want to control everything and reduce their men to being boys. They have the answer to every question.” Wellington slapped the backside of one hand into the palm of the other each time he said,
“What? When? Who? Where? Why? How?” He opened his palms faced toward Simone, squinted, shook his head, and continued, “Men hate that shit with a passion. That’s why Christopher divorced Cynthia. And Cynthia still hasn’t changed, but I guess she’s too old now. Anyway, Diamond, she wasn’t like that at all. She was different.” Wellington smiled as he flashed back on their first date in Carmel. He knew he had an outdoors-chic, bona fide indoor-freak type of woman the moment Jada paused Chris Tucker’s video and said, “It’s intermission. What would you like?” Then Jada broke out the strawberry whipped cream and squirted it all over her breasts.
Wellington stared off into a daze at the memory.
Simone asked as she snapped her fingers two inches from Wellington’s nose, “What does this have to do with Darius?”
Wellington was thirty-five when his sister, Jazzmyne, had told him he was adopted. He shook his head and said, “Everything. When a man loves a woman, he accepts her child, even if it’s not his. Hell, everybody would be single if we refused to raise someone else’s kid. That’s why I don’t care, Simone. As a person that’s been adopted, I feel an obligation to give back. At this point in our lives, if Darius isn’t my son, he’ll be the main one hurt. I won’t do that to him.” Wellington pounded his chest and said, “A real man raised me, Simone, and he raised me to be the man my biological father, Keith, wasn’t.” Keith was spineless, always running away from his obligations. Anyone who cost him time or money, Keith dismissed with quickness. Wellington was no exception.
Now that Keith was growing old and feeble, he called almost every day, pretending to check on Junior and asking about Darius. Really, he just wanted Wellington to keep paying his bills and giving him an allowance. Keith had never held a steady job, so he had no retirement income. Social Security gave him a stipend, but he’d have to feed on dog food and choose between buying his blood pressure medicine and having a roof over his head.
God had blessed Wellington with so much to give, and he gave selflessly. Keith gave nothing. He didn’t give a damn about Keith’s wanting his money; he just wanted his father to love and accept him. Wellington chose to live his life like his stepfather, Christopher. Always willing to give more than he received. Especially when it came to Jada, Darius, Junior, and Simone.