Wellington waited until the officer drove off first. “Can you believe this shit? He had the fucking audacity to call me boy, and he’s blacker than me. I swear that’s the kind of confrontation that’ll land an innocent man in jail.”
Staring straight ahead like a zombie, Jada whispered, “Baby, let’s go back. I can get my car later.”
“No. He does not intimidate me. I’ll be okay.” The small raindrops had grown to the size of quarters when they splattered on the windshield. Wellington drove twenty miles per hour. Not because of the officer, but because visibility was steadily decreasing, and his blood pressure was steadily rising. Gusty winds whistled about the convertible top. He glimpsed at his trip gauge. They had traveled fifty-two miles. Interstate 5 South was ten miles away, but it would take at least thirty minutes to get there. “Let’s pull over and find a hotel.” Wellington grumbled, “I can’t believe I checked everything except the weather report.”
“Okay,” Jada calmly responded.
Apparently other motorists shared his view. The last available parking space was at the end of the lot. Wellington dropped Jada off at the lobby entrance and hurried to the vacant space. He didn’t try covering his head or drying himself off once inside the lobby.
“We got the last room, too,” Jada said, pressing two on the elevator. “Are you upset about the ticket?”
“Of course I’m upset. But I’m glad Christopher taught me by example how to keep my cool. That’s why I hit the steering wheel after he left and before he returned.”
The room smelled damp and stale. Wellington turned on the air, and Jada sprayed a dash of her perfume into the vent.
Jada turned on the TV. “We can watch a movie.”
“What’s on at eleven-thirty in the morning?” Wellington diagonally stretched across the bed. His arms hung over one edge and his feet over the other. “Come here. I want to hold you in my arms. I’m sorry, ba. I didn’t know how to react when he pulled his gun on you. But I do know if he had pulled the trigger, both of us would be dead.”
There was nothing Wellington could do to that asshole who made him feel less of a man in front of his woman. Friend. Whatever. Today was the first time Wellington realized he was willing to lay down his life to protect Jada. Thankfully, he could quickly turn to her for solace. The scent of Jada’s hair, the warmth of her body, and softness of her skin calmed and comforted him. He hoped he provided the same compassion for her.
Chapter 3
T
hree days of moping over Wellington after he’d left had practically driven Jada insane. The time had come for her to adapt to her new environment in Baldwin Hills, California. Spring’s sunshine reigned outside. Snapping her fingers, swinging her hair, and dancing wildly, she sang ahead of Pattie LaBelle. “He’s the right one baby. Sure nuff he’s got the stuff . . .” A private victory because she’d decided earlier to call the good-looking guy who handed her his business card while she and Candice were at LAX Starbucks. Unbeknownst to him, he was going to cure her heartache and her coochie ache.
Jada skipped to the bathroom. She stopped and stared at the test tubes lying on the white marble vanity. Daddy used to say, “If you confess with your mouth and believed in your heart, your sins will be forgiven.” On bended knees, Jada propped her elbows on the toilet lid and prayed, “God, if you let me out of this situation, I’ll never do this again.” The Lord must have been busy, or maybe He’d heard her whisper “Never again” once more since she’d made the same promise at twenty years old when she was in college.
From her five-pack First Response, the first, second, third, fourth, and last window each framed double pink stripes. Every damn test reminded Jada she’d not only fucked but also slipped up. One of her two lovers’—Wellington’s or Darryl’s—sperm had won a race and left her pregnant with a baby like a happily single female who had just reluctantly caught the bride’s bouquet. And if Jada could have tossed her bundle to a woman who desperately wanted a child, she wouldn’t have batted an eyelash.
“This can’t be happening.” Jada talked to herself in the mirror. “Okay, God heard your prayer. You’ve been late before and you weren’t pregnant. Maybe you’re stressed because of the move. Girl, what are you going to do with a baby if you are pregnant? Think positive. The home kit was defective. The only thing you’re expecting is having a fabulous time with Mr. Wonderful.”
When the phone rang, Jada dashed out of the bathroom, hoping it was her new acquaintance. “Hey, hey,” Jada answered, grooving to the beat as she lowered the volume.
“Hi, Jada. This is Dr. Bates.”
Picking up the remote, Jada turned off the stereo and said, “Tell me it was only a bad dream and my blood test result is negative.” Slumping in the oversized chair, Jada stared at the ivy plant that hung as an accent across her living room drapes as she kicked her feet up on the ottoman. Then she crossed her pointing and middle fingers on both hands. “Lord, I promise. I really mean it this time.”
“Negative. No can do,” Dr. Bates replied. “You’re going to be a mother, my dear.”
“Thanks”—Jada paused—“for what? I’m not sure.” Jada’s voice was low and flat. Mother warned her about people who answered their own questions. They supposedly had psychological problems. Hell, sometimes it was appropriate to find one’s own solution. Silent. Aloud. What difference did that make? Jada’s condo had enough space for her, but her baby would need a backyard to roam around and play games. She’d focus on finding a new place later.
“Well, you know there are other alternatives,” Dr. Bates commented.
Picking up her new beau’s number, Jada ripped the card into tiny pieces, then dropped the pieces inside the burning candle on the tall brass stand. “Yes, there are. But not for me.” A lump formed in Jada’s throat as she swallowed. “I could never kill a living soul, especially not my own child. I guess I’ll just have to fly back to Oakland for my checkups.”
If she were going to have a baby, her mother was definately going to be involved. That meant Jada would have to temporarily move back to Oakland, but she could stay in L.A. a few more months then return after her baby was born. “I want you to recommend the best OB/GYN who freelances as a counselor. Oh, my gosh. A baby. Whew!” Jada followed with contrived laughter. Black folk didn’t go to counseling, because that certified to their friends and family they were crazy.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Bates asked.
“I will be.” One mesmerizing ivy leaf stood out above the rest, accented with more ivory than green. Jada tiptoed to reach the top of the blinds, plucked it off, and set it on her marbled coffee table. Mama had mentioned a pregnant woman should never reach above her head because she could strangle her unborn. No disrespect intended, but Jada believed it was a myth. She’d preserve the leaf, giving it to her child on the first day of school to represent his or her Ivy League college of choice. The sooner she planted the seeds of success, the better.
“Well, Dr. Carl Watson is the best in the Bay Area. I’ll set everything up for you. You’ll be just fine. I’ll call you next week,” Dr. Bates said. “Remember, Jada—”
Jada finished the sentence because Dr. Bates ended every conversation the same. “Yeah, I know. Love myself first. Goodbye.”
Just like that. Jada’s whole life had taken a turn down the road she never envisioned traveling. Single parenthood. Daddy always said, “The things you fear the most shall come upon you.”
Daddy was always afraid to go to the doctor. He said, “Once those doctors start cutting on you, they never stop.” He feared going under the knife, so he suffered tremendously with his abdominal pains. Everything he ate came right back up, including his favorite vanilla ice cream. Mama couldn’t take watching him suffer and lose more weight; so they drove him to the hospital, and sure enough, he had to have an emergency operation. Stomach cancer had destroyed Daddy’s organs beyond salvation, so the doctor stitched him back up and sent him home to live out his last days. Seeing her father slowly deteriorate was so disturbing, Jada decided to only reminisce about the good times and never talk about how her daddy might still be alive if he hadn’t delayed going to see his doctor.
Jada dreaded and debated whether to tell Wellington or Darryl. The one person Jada knew she could tell—the person who wouldn’t judge her—was her mother. “Baby, if you don’t know which one is the father, you’ve got to tell both Wellington and Darryl,” Mama insisted. Mama’s advice was honest and direct. Unlike Robert—who comically judged everyone—Mama never labeled anyone. Robert said, “What you crying for Diamonette? They both rich.”
Jada instantly decided to defer her dream of opening the doors to her company until after her child started school. Between her Mutual Funds and her inheritance from Henry Tanner, she and her baby could live a moderate lifestyle on the interest income. Within five years she could complete her business and operating plan and lease adequate office space downtown. Black Diamonds’ mission statement, “To build a better America one community at a time by insuring low-income areas become educationally, technologically, and financially sound,” had been developed before she moved from Oakland and would remain the same.
Not mentally prepared to tell either of her exes face-to-face, and writing a letter seemed so distant, Jada did the next best thing—she phoned Wellington and then Darryl.
Nervously Jada dialed Wellington’s number. Heartbeats pounded in her throat as though something was trying to escape—that was an outward sign of pregnancy, Mama had explained. Immediately after he said hello, Jada blurted out, “Wellington, I have something to tell you.” Jada didn’t wait for a response. “I’m pregnant.” At first it didn’t seem real, but Jada could no longer pretend. Her pregnancy was very real. So real, it frightened her. Not having a child, but having someone totally dependent upon her. Shitty diapers. No husband. Soiled bibs. No man. Sleepless nights. No lover. Well, theoretically she made love to Wellington, in her dreams.
Jada sighed, but not from relief. She became quiet. If Wellington didn’t say something soon, she wouldn’t be able to tell him anything else, because her body was on the verge of lying horizontal and unconscious.
Wellington’s silence seemingly lasted forever. He finally whispered, “Ba, that’s great.” Wellington gasped for air. Then he shouted with joy, “Yes! We’re going to have a baby!” He never questioned the paternity.
No easy way existed for Jada to tell her soul mate—the man she would have married had it not been for that bitch Melanie—the truth. So she didn’t. Wellington’s vote of confidence gave Jada the comfort she needed, realizing he’d be there for them.
Before Wellington spoke another word, Jada hung up the phone, fearing she might provide too much information.
Jada reclined in the chair and imagined “The Ruler” between her soft thighs. That was what had gotten her in her predicament in the first place. Her libido. High. Wellington was nine inches. Darryl was ten. The thought of Wellington made her juices flow. Tugging on each end of her drawstring, she slipped her hand inside and massaged her clit. Her index finger rotated in tiny circular motions. The lubrication saturated her G-point. The apple spice scent of her candles became an aphrodisiac. Partially spreading her legs, thoughts of Wellington’s strong hands massaging her breasts brought Jada to the edge of orgasm. She envisioned him clinching her nipples. One between his teeth and the other inside his fingertips. Jada’s vagina pulsated from the inside out.
“Yes.” Jada spoke the word that continued her groove. Again she said, “Yes,” softly but a little louder. By the time Wellington put the head in all the way, Jada could feel the uncontrollable throbbing along the lining of her uterus.
“Yes, that feels so damn good, baby.” Jada removed her hand and tasted herself. Her mama said, “Never feed a man
anything
until you’ve tasted it first.” Her last memories of Darryl left a bitter tang. Thankfully it wasn’t in her mouth.
Jada took a deep breath as she dialed Darryl’s cellular phone. It was now or never, and she truly wanted the moment behind her.
“Hi, Darryl.”
“Yeah, who is this?” he asked as if he were screening his calls.
“Ja-da.” She was pissed he needed to ask.
“Hey! I didn’t catch your voice. You sound um, different. Where’ve you been? Have you moved yet? Are you in Oaktown? Or in La La Land?”
He’d perked up, probably because he thought he was going to get laid. Never again. Darryl was officially and permanently moved to her inactive list. “I called to tell you I’m pregnant.” Jada tapped her foot and waited for his response.
“And?”
“And, what?” Jada’s forehead wrinkled. Instantly, tension built up from one temple to the other like a rainbow, but this one didn’t bear good fortunes. Perhaps her blessings lay behind her soon-to-be potbelly.
“So who’s the father? Not me.” Darryl’s voice escalated and deepened. “I know because I pulled my snake out of your pussy the last time we fucked.”
Jada moved the phone away from her ear. She wrapped all eight fingers and both thumbs around the receiver. Her grip was so tight her knuckles cracked. The back-and-forth motion should have been Darryl’s neck. Was this the same person she’d known since high school? She spoke into the receiver so close her cinnamon-colored lipstick filled the opening.
“Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure it isn’t yours!” Jada responded with an equivalent volume. “Maybe your venom had already poisoned my womb.”
“Well, look-a-here. Call me when you’re ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure. I know the routine all too well. I thought you were different, but all you bitches are just alike. I’m glad I didn’t marry you! Better yet, don’t ever call me again! I can’t believe you’re trying to stick me with a kid. I know your rich ass don’t need my money, but if you want child support, you’re going to have to pawn the engagement ring I left at your house. I’ve just been hit for child support up the ass for two kids that I just found out are mine. This shit will not come in threes. You’d better call Wellington—mister lover-boy financial advisor—Jones and let him foot the bill.” Then Darryl mumbled, “I don’t believe this bullshit. Pregnant?”
Instantly she hated Darryl’s guts. If Jada never saw him again as long as she lived, it wouldn’t matter. Two kids. Damn, that was a hell of a way to discover Darryl had children. As her heartbeat quickened, Jada’s breasts moved up and down. Her eyes filled with tears. Her baby definitely didn’t need an asshole for a father, and Darryl had obviously lost his frickin’ mind. Or had she? Otherwise, how could she rationalize such bizarre behavior? In the midst of Darryl’s relentless outrage, Jada slammed the phone on the base so hard it cracked, snapped, and pinched her thumb.
“Shit!” Jada became so enraged she snatched the base from the wall and slammed it to the floor.
That was the day Jada independently concluded the paternity of her unborn child. There were some things a woman knew but didn’t tell. Darryl had pulled out before cumming, and Wellington had not. But based on the rhythm method, her window of conception was definitely during her affair with Darryl. Unless the embryo growing inside of her was a miracle baby, Jada disappointingly knew that Wellington was not the biological father.