Chapter Thirteen
Moët
I
t's funny how good times are always followed by the bad times for me. My own little way of knowing that I'm not special or blessed. Classic examples of the Lord giveth and He taketh away.
My first lover is extraordinarily good in bed but he's the sinful pastor of my family's church.
I am blessed with my first pregnancy but the father is that same sinful pastor who wants nothing more than for me to have an abortion.
I fall in love with Bones, a high-profile, wealthy celebrity but he accuses me of entrapping him with my second pregnancy.
I began to date the man of my dream. I find out he's a virgin sworn to abstinence.
The paternity results proved without a shadow of doubt that Bones is the father. I just got served papers that he's suing me for full custody of our daughter.
“I ain't letting that . . . that . . .
motherfucker
take my daughter,” I say in a hard voice.
Dom walks out of the kitchen in a wifebeater and leggings on her slender frame. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open as I look at her. I'm not saved but I have really tried hard not to curse anymore. Now here is this Negro making me lose what little religion I do have.
“Today I had to take three kids away from their mother because she gave them liquor to make them go to sleep and he wants to take my daughter away from me like
I'm
unfit. There's a mother on the news who let her toddlers smoke weed and had the nerve to videotape it and this asshole wants to take my daughter from me.”
Dom sits the carton of ice cream she's holding onto the table before she bends down to scoop Tiffany out of her carrier. “Kimani, go in the room and watch TV,” she says.
“He is so busy chasing a bunch of Supahead wannabes that he hasn't seen Tiffany since she was born. Hell, he's denied her from the jump street.” I am shaking with anger as I stalk back and forth across the living room. I hate the tears that fill my eyes. I hate them more when they fall down my cheeks. “He's just mad that the test proves he's my daughter's father.”
Out the corner of my eyes I see Dom lay my baby in the rocking cradle by the unlit fireplace. My baby.
My
baby. I walk across the room and move Dom out of the way to gather her into my arms. I press my face into her neck and I can't imagine not being able to hold her and smell her and kiss her whenever I want.
“Heavenly Father, show me the way, Lord,” I whisper near her cheek. “Show me what to doâ”
“What you should do is call his ass and talk it out 'cause y'all really do need to get this shit together.”
I love Dom. I do. But I wish like hell that Cristal or Alizé was here instead. I know she mean well but Domâtherapy or no therapyâis still a little rough around the edges with her advice.
I settle down onto the couch with my daughter held close to me with my tears wetting her as I pray like I have never prayed before.
I pray for the Lord to show me the way.
I pray that the strength I will need to fight for my daughter comes to me.
I pray that the anger I feel dies down so that I can think clearly.
I pray for Him to forgive me for my sins.
I pray that He shows Bones another way.
I pray and I pray and I pray some more.
“Jesus. Jesus, please don't let him take my daughter. Please.”
I feel a hand on my shoulder shake me gently and I look up surprised to see Taquan coming around the couch to sit beside me. He uses his thumb to wipe the tracks of my tears and I close my eyes to lean my face into his hand. When he settles back to pull me and Tiffany into his embrace I let myself lean against him.
“How long I been praying?”
“Dom called me and I came right over,” he whispers into my hair as he rocks us both gently.
I forgot that we had plans for a Valentine's dinner.
Without me even asking, he lowers his head. “Heavenly Father, we call on You for we are in need,” he begins to pray with reverence.
God, I am so glad that he's here.
Girl Talk
M
oët, Cristal, Alizé, and Dom all sat around on the large white sofa in their living room. They all were dressed casually and enjoying eating straight from various containers of ice cream. Each had things on their minds and it felt good just to be in the company of friends.
“Winnin' the lottery would come in handy right 'bout now,” Dom says, wearing shorts and a tank and crossing her legs Indian style. Her brows came together as she thought of her bills.
Cristal thought of the glamorous life she craved.
Alizé thought about paying off her school loans.
Moët thought about being able to afford attorney fees to win custody of her child.
“Tell me about it,” they all said in unison before digging down deep into their ice creams.
Chapter Fourteen
Alizé
C
ameron's eyes are on me as I give my best runway walk to his desk. I keep my eyes on him. I can hardly believe he has summoned me to his office and I'm glad that I chose the ankle-length fitted skirt and silk blouse by Claiborne. My heart is beating mad crazy as we keep looking at each other. I'm thinking he looks sexy as hell with his tailored shirt slightly open at the neck with his rust tie loosened and the sleeves rolled up to expose strong forearms. I wonder what's on his mind.
“Cameron, this is ridiculous,” I say as I smile down at him and flip my jet-black hair over my shoulder. I am in full flirt mode.
At my informal tone he leans back in his chair and sits his square chin in his hand. “And exactly what is ridiculous?”
“You pretending that we weren't friends last year . . . that you never said you loved me,” I say softly as I trail my hand around the edge of his desk as I come around to stand above him. “Like I said . . . ridiculous.”
Cameron shakes his head at me and smiles sardonically. “Now
this
is inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” I ask with a little laugh. I cock my head to the damn side and pull my skirt up around my waist to expose my matching lace thongs. Oh, I'm a bitch on a mission. Trust. Before his behind can blink I kick a leg over his lap, sit on the edge of his desk before him, and spread my knees wide.
Cameron's eyes dart down to my sweet business in his face before his eyes dart to his closed office door. “Monicaâ”
“I locked it on my way in,” I tell him in that husky and sexy fuck me voice as I shift my hands down to pull my thong to the side to trace a finger against my throbbing clit with a purr.
“So you don't love me. You don't want to date me . . . but you want to fuck me?” he asks with attitude just before I use my finger to trace my pussy juices onto his mouth.
He starts to lick it but bites his bottom lip to keep his tongue locked in. “But I doâ”
Bzzzz
.
He rolls to the left and quickly pushes a button on the intercom system. “Yes, Delaney.”
“Your fiancée is here to see you.”
Cameron jumps to his feet and reaches out quickly to snap my legs shut. “I actually called you in here to tell you that my fiancée is having a little issue with your working here.”
“And?” I ask with attitude as he places strong hands on my forearms and lifts me from the desk with way too much ease.
“And I need you to stop throwing me those vibes before more than my fiancée picks up on it,” he says sternly, as he quickly straightens his tie and unrolls his sleeves.
I smooth my skirt back down over my hips. I could strip naked and wait on wifey but if Cameron is angry at me for the little stunt that it defeats my purpose of winning him back before the wedding date. A date that is getting closer and closer. “So . . . you don't love me anymore,” I say softly, trying to overcome my natural reaction to put up my guard and protect my heart.
“And you never loved me . . . remember?”
I turn and offer him a smile that is the opposite of my sadness.
“I moved on, Monica, and I need for you to respect that.”
I walk back across the room and stand before him. I look him in those eyes and take a deep breath. “I love you,” I admit to him softly.
His eyes widen in surprise just as the doorknob rattles.
I place my hands on his shoulders and raise up on my toes to whisper against his lips, “I can love you better than she can, Cameron.”
His head lowers to mine and I feel excitement course over my body.
The doorknob rattles again.
Cameron jerks back from me and rushes over to open the door.
I got the message. Serena comes first.
Tears fill my eyes and I walk past them and out the door, leaving him to answer any questions she may have. I got enough problems of my own. I lost the man that I love forever and it hurt like hell.
That night when I get home I am immediately on my guard because these days it's a regular damn barrel of surprises with my moms.
I'll be fine
, she said.
Don't worry about me
, she said. That was a big old lie. My mama done straight lost her damn mind.
At first I was happy that she started to hang out with a couple of her friends from work.
Yes, Ma, get out the house. Socialize
, my dumb ass told her. I didn't know she was gonna step out the house with skin tight jeans, stilettos, and enough makeup to shut down MAC and Cover Girl. Hell, she was
my
mama not a damn hoochie mama.
And then one night last week she didn't come home at all. My mama stayed out all night and then gone come home early in the morning looking like she been in a wrestling match.
Elaine Winters is straight trippin' all up and through here. My daddy's getting married and she's going through a damn midlife crisis. Hell, I still don't know where she stayed that night. Had the nerve to tell me to “get up outta her business.” Say what? Say fucking who?
I'm starting to think she needs to get her ass on the couch and talk some shit over with Dr. Locke.
I walk into the kitchen and there is nothing popping on the stove. My mama
used to
cook everyday. Once I pull off my coat and step out of my heels, I make me a quick ham and cheese sandwich, grab my briefcase, and head out the kitchen.
I take a big bite out of my sandwich and stroll into the living room. “Ma . . .”
All I see is flashes of ass and titties and a dick sliding out of my mama. What the motherfuck? I drop everything in my damn hand and turn before I see anymore than I already seen.
“Excuse me, Rockman,” I hear my mom say.
Rockman. What the fuck?
Seconds later there is a strong hand on my arm leading me somewhere. I am scared to open my damn eyes. Oh, Lord, I saw my mama fucking. I wish I had went to Livingston and spent the night with the girls. Most of the time me and Dom still didn't talk directly to each other but we were in a better place than this time last month. So even with a little awkwardness between me and Dom, anything is better than walking in on an amateur scene from a flick.
“Please stay in here while I escort my company upstairs.”
“Maybe if you and your company were upstairs in the first place I wouldn't feel like tearing my eyes out with spoons!”
“This is
my
house.”
Okay that makes me open my eyes and get this. She has on a damn oversized Roc-a-Fella T-shirt. I give her a long disgusted look and step right out the kitchen into the living room to really get a good look at this Negro. I gasp in horror. This young buck with the braids, faded jeans, and Timbs is my damn age. Humph, well he might be in his early twenties but he real late on getting fucked up.
“Aw hell no. Get the fuck out,” I tell him, walking over to start pushing that fool towards the front door.
He frowns looking more and more like Nelly to me. “What? Hold on. What the hell . . .”
“Monica!”
I feel my mama's hands on my arm but I shake her off and keep shoving this nigga.
“Monica!”
I turn and look at her, my mama, like I don't even know her.
Okay, this is why I'm so mad. This . . .
shit
is just another damn example of her still loving and wanting to be with my father. Deep down she is so upset that her hopes and dreams of a reconciliation are being squashed that she has done a total 180 degrees. This same stupid shit of hers had me scared to fall in love. Scared to admit to Cameron that I loved him.
In the past, before Rah broke my leg, I would find a dance studio and make myself forget everything but getting lost in the music. I don't even have the time or the passion to dance no more. But right now I would bust open my scar to just get in the zone and forget this shit. I need my stress reliever more than ever.
“I'm going to Daddy's,” I tell her before I storm out of the living room. I pause for a hot second at the bottom of the stairs before I climb them. When I finally reach my room I don't hesitate to start packing some of my clothes.
I'm pissed at my mama for this shit. Right, wrong, or indifferent, it's just how I feel and right now I just want to get the fuck away. My mama is a fuckin' cougar on the prowl for younger men. I am so sick of her shit.
“Why did you need an emergency appointment this morning, Monica?”
I shift my eyes from the view of the spring leaves on the trees to look at Dr. Locke. Of course, I know the answer to his questions but I don't feel like talking. Just being in this office, in this chair, across from him gave me comfort.
In this moment, none of the bullshit bothers me.
Not my mama drama.
Not the hell of sleeping on the couch in my dad's living room.
Not how stupid I feel sometimes for being Dom's friend again.
Not even how it really fucks with me that I laid my pussy out for Cameron and he rejected me.
Emotions made my chest tight and I took a deep breath hoping to get myself straight. Yes, this forty-five minute session where I ain't had shit to say was worth a hundred and fifty dollars to me.
I shift my eyes back to the window.
Something on his desk buzzes.
“Excuse me, I have to take that.”
I look over at him as he sits his notepad on the small table by his chair and unfolds his tall frame to walk over to his desk and pick up the phone. Unlike his normal attire of a suit, Dr. Locke wore a fitted polo and slacks in all black. The color looks good on him with his bronzed complexion and silver goatee. His shoulders look broad and his arms are still a little toned beneath his short sleeves.
I bring my hand up to lightly bite the tip of my thumb as I watch him closely. He speaks quietly on the phone and my eyes drop to his mouth. Straight even teeth. Nice lips. Groomed beard. I squirm in my seat as I feel my nature slowly rising.
Again that question pops into my head.
How wrong would I be to fuck my therapist?
How wrong indeed?
He turns his back to me and I reach up to shake my hair free.
By the time he ends his call and turns to me I am sitting in that chair naked as the day I was born with each of my legs draped over the arms of the chair. His eyes drop down to take in my pussy and I see that hot look come over his face. Got him. I have nothing to say . . . but there is no need to let my good money go to waste. I might as well get
something
out of this last thirty minutes.