So You Call Yourself a Man (5 page)

It was late and I was watching Ving Rhames play the new Kojak when my cell phone rang. The caller ID had my home phone number on it, and I immediately turned the sound up and switched the TV from Kojak to BET, where music videos were playing. I was hoping to give my wife the impression I was at a strip club. I know what you're thinking. Why the hell would I want my wife to think I was in a strip club? Well, it's a hell of a lot better than telling her that I was at my former mistress's house babysitting the son she said was mine.

“Hello?” I raised my voice, trying to speak louder than the 50 Cent video on the TV.

“James, honey, it's me!” she yelled back to make sure I heard her.

“Hun, you're gonna have to speak up. I can barely hear you with this loud-ass music.”

“What time are you coming home?”

“Three, four, depending on if we decide to go to a diner. We just got to the club about an hour ago. We're not doing anything, Cathy, just looking, honest.”

“I know. I'm not tryin' to bitch. I just wanted you to wake me up when you come home.”

“Wake you up for what?” I didn't like the sound of that. Cathy tried to act like she wasn't, but my wife was a jealous woman…a very jealous woman. She was always snooping around my shit, checking my phone, my pockets, and my car. She never found anything because I wasn't doing anything, but you'd be surprised by the coincidental shit that got me in trouble.

“You'll see.”

“Come on, Cathy. What you gonna do, give me the sniff test again?” I laughed, but I was only half-joking.

“No, baby, I'm gonna give you the hardness test, so be prepared to stick your plug in my socket. You got a problem with that?”

A smile crept up on my face. No, I definitely didn't have a problem with that. We hadn't had sex since the night Michelle sprang the news on me about Marcus being my son, and I was in definite need of some stress relief.

“No, ma'am. I don't have a problem with that at all. Matter of fact, I'm about ready to blow a fuse right now.”

“Well then, I'll see you when you get home. Don't forget to wake me up.” Now that's what I was talking about. I couldn't wait to get home.

I hung up the phone and turned the TV down just as Marcus walked into the room, wearing a Pull-Up and dragging a blue stuffed bunny behind him. Believe it or not, this was the first time I'd seen him, other than a picture or the quick peek in his room when I arrived.

On my way in, Michelle had rushed out the door to a waiting cab. “He's asleep and he shouldn't wake up before I get home around four, but if he does, take him to the bathroom then give him some juice in his Lion King sippy cup. He'll go right back to sleep after that,” she said over her shoulder. “Oh, and the dog's in the laundry room. Let him out in the backyard to do his business if he starts to whine.” Ain't that a bitch? Not only was I babysitting, but she had me dogsitting too.

“Mommy! Where's my mommy?” Marcus was on the verge of tears.

Suddenly, as I stared at him, a chill ran through my body. This had all just seemed like a bad dream, but now here was this kid, in the flesh, needing, wanting, and crying. Up until now, I'd pretty much convinced myself that there was the possibility that I was Marcus's father, since I was at the scene of the crime, but not the probability, since I wasn't the only one she was having sex with. I mean, damn, we'd only had sex without a condom that one time.

Now that Marcus was standing in front of me, I finally got a good look at him and saw that there was some resemblance to me and my people. He wasn't a dead ringer like my sons, James Jr. and Michael. They looked just like me. Ain't no denying those two. Marcus, maybe he could be my son, but I still thought he looked more like the other guy Michelle was screwing. She'd admitted to me once while we were dating that she went raw-dog with her boyfriend Trent almost every time.

Either way, I was in no position to stand up to Michelle and insist on a DNA test. Things at home were going too well between Cathy and me to take any chances. If there was the slightest chance he was my son, I didn't need any drama, especially from Michelle. That girl would take the phrase “baby mama drama” to the next level.

“What's the matter, little man?” I tried to rub his head.

He stared at me for a few seconds, obviously confused. The tears began to run down his face. “I want my mommmy!” he wailed.

I took a deep breath because there was no bigger pain in the ass than a child who wanted his mother. I tried to warn Michelle of this before she left, but she wasn't hearing me. She swore up and down that he'd sleep through the night and wouldn't get up 'til daylight.

“I know you want your mommy, but your mommy had to go to work. She'll be home soon, okay?” I smiled at him, but he wasn't going for it.

“I want my mommmy! I want my mommmy! I want my mommyyyyy!” he screamed, each time louder than the first. He was about two seconds away from a full-blown meltdown, but I'd been through this same thing with my boys. I knew what to do. I was going to bribe him.

“Hey, Marcus, you want a lollipop?” He shut up immediately, nodding his head, although tears were still running down his face. “Well, if you want a lollipop, then you gotta stop this crying, man.”

He sucked back tears and wiped his face with his shirtless arm. I smiled, reaching in my pocket and pulling out three Tootsie Roll Pops I'd purchased on the way over for just such an occasion. Before I could even ask him which color he wanted, he grabbed the red one out of my hand, ripping off the waxed paper. I smiled as he shoved it into his mouth.

Works every time,
I thought. I never met a kid who wouldn't take a bribe. All you have to do is find out his weakness. With some kids it's candy, others it's TV. I've got a nephew who won't shut up unless you give him a dollar.

I picked him up, placing him on my lap. “Do you know who I am?”

He nodded his head repeatedly as he sucked on his lollipop. “You my daddy!”

I almost dropped him off my lap, I was so stunned by his reply. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn't that. “Who told you that?”

He jumped down and headed toward a love seat across the room. Then he climbed up on it, pulling a photo album off the end table and on to his lap. He started flipping pages like he knew what he was doing and I walked over to investigate. About ten pages into the album he stopped, pointing at a picture. “Mommy and daddy,” he said in his rather cute child's voice before pointing to another picture and repeating the same words.

I took a good look at each picture, and to my surprise, each photograph had a picture of Michelle and me at various times during our relationship. I was surprised she kept those pictures and even more surprised that she showed them to her son. Now, if you ask me, that shit was low. She'd already had junior here brainwashed that I was his dad. I wondered, how long had she been showing him my picture? Not that it mattered. The damage was done now.

I started to walk to the kitchen. “Come on, little man, let's get your Lion King cup and get you some juice, so you can go back to bed and I can think.”

I swear, I'd barely turned my back for two seconds when I heard Marcus sputtering and choking. I rushed back into the living room and there he was, laying sprawled out on the floor, gagging, with his hands near his throat. My heart was doing summersaults in my chest as I dashed across the room and grabbed him.

“What's wrong?” His lips were turning blue and he gagged. I immediately turned his back to me. In one swift movement I delivered the Heimlich maneuver, and the lollipop spewed out of his little mouth. Relieved, I had to choke back my own feelings. What the hell was I thinking about? Giving him that stupid lollipop almost killed him. Without thinking, I held Marcus close to my chest to calm both him and myself. His little heart was trotting like a racehorse and so was mine. After Marcus caught his breath again, he began crying in deep gasps.

“It's all right son, it's all right, Daddy's here. You're going to be all right,” I said in a soothing voice. I thanked God Cathy had made me take a CPR class at the Y when our boys were infants. When he finally calmed down, I said, “Here. Let's go get your juice.”

“I wanna play with Majesty,” Marcus protested between hiccups. As if on cue, the dog began to bark from the laundry room.

“Okay. I'll let you play with Majesty or whatever his name is for a little while, then back to bed you go.”

After Marcus drank his juice and went to the toilet, he romped around with his little mutt until he dozed off in the middle of the floor. I picked him up and carried him to his bedroom, feeling something stirring in my gut. Marcus had his arm wrapped snugly around my neck.

I laid him down in his twin bed and shook my head. Lord, what if something had happened to him while he was with me? I don't think I could've lived with that. He was a good kid, even if he wasn't my son. And if he was my flesh and blood and died…dear Lord, I didn't even wanna think about it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses one more time and join me as I wish my best friend, Brent, and his lovely bride, Alison, farewell before they depart on their honeymoon.”

Cheers and clinking glasses echoed throughout the Westbury Manor reception hall as Brent and Alison took center stage. I handed the microphone to Brent so he and his bride could say their final good-byes, then slipped into the crowd to check in with my wife. It had been one of the most emotional wedding ceremonies I'd ever been to. I don't think there was a dry eye in the place after Brent and Alison recited from memory their very personal vows. If that wasn't enough, the Westbury Manor reception hall looked like something out of a magazine, and the food they served tasted like it came from a five-star restaurant. Add in DJ Smooth, arguably the best old-school DJ in Queens, and you had the best wedding I'd ever been to, including my own. I'm sure the whole affair set Brent and Alison back a pretty penny.

After maneuvering my way through the crowd now surrounding the Williamses on the dance floor, I found an empty table toward the back of the hall. I sat down, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed my wife. We talked for about fifteen minutes and I told her about the wedding. She was jealous, of course, and wished she was there, but said nothing could tear her away from packing up our belongings so we could move them to New York. Jessica was excited about our move. She probably asked me fifteen times a day when I was coming home to move them out.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I have this dance?” a warm, sexy voice purred just as I hung up the phone.

I looked up to see the woman who took my virginity, my high school sweetheart, Tiffany Boyd. She was still as pretty as they come, with her smooth bronze skin highlighted by a large dimple on her right cheek. She'd gained a little weight over the years, most of which ended up around her hips, and of course you know I didn't mind that, being the ass man that I am.

“It's been a long time, Tiffany. I heard a rumor that you married crazy-ass Kareem.” I started to laugh but stopped when I saw her expression.

“Crazy is right,” she said as she sat beside me. That man put me through hell before I divorced him.”

“Oh, wow, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“So am I, but he's out of my life now.” She smiled, changing the subject. “So, speaking of rumors, I heard you were dead.”

“No, I'm still alive and kicking.” We both laughed.

It's funny how you don't think about a person for years and then they pop up and your mind is flooded with memories. Right now, most of mine had to do with sex and how Tiffany used to put it on me every night in the backseat of my father's car. Boy, did she have some good damn pussy. My dick was getting hard just thinking about it. I was glad I was sitting down so the table could cover it.

Tiffany was a year older than me. We started dating in my sophomore year of high school. She was one of those girls who never had any girlfriends and was always hanging around with a bunch of guys. Truth is, she had a reputation for being a slut, and the only reason I started to date her was because I wanted to lose my virginity.

What I didn't know was that it wasn't as easy to get in her pants as everyone said. Oh, she wasn't a virgin, but you could count the guys she'd been with on one hand. I found out later that many a brother had lied on their dicks when it came to her, including my boy Brent. Let him tell it, all you had to do was buy her an ice-cream sundae or a shake from Baskin-Robbins and take her for a walk down by Roy Wilkins Park, and she'd do all the rest. I must have bought twenty-five sundaes and another thirty shakes before I finally got some, and even then, she didn't initiate it. Funny thing is, by the time she did give me some, I really liked her and didn't give a damn what her reputation was. From that point on, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, an inseparable pair. That is, until she graduated and joined the Navy without telling me.

“How you doing, Tiffany? You're looking good.” My eyes were fixated on her hips. Deep down, I wanted to ask her to turn around so I could see her ass.

“Thanks.” Her dimple got deeper. “You're not looking so bad yourself for a dead man.”

“You know what they say. Embalming fluid helps preserve your youth.” I rubbed my hand across my smoothly shaved face. We both cracked up, laughing.

“Oh, Lord, Sonny, you still crazy. You know that?” She was still chuckling.

“Yeah, and you're still the prettiest girl at the prom. Did you know that?”

Don't ask me where that came from, because I don't have a clue, but neither one of us was laughing anymore. We were staring at each other, our eyes doing all the talking, reminiscing about what quite possibly was the greatest night of either of our lives. I loved my wife more than anything in the world, and when she married me she made me the happiest man in the world, but the happiest night of my life would always be the night of Tiffany's senior prom.

The lights in the hall got dim when the DJ announced that Brent and Alison had just left the building and he would only be playing three more songs. As if it were scripted, the next song he played was “Endless Love.”

“Remember this?” Tiffany finally broke our silence.

“How could I ever forget our song?”

“So, can a sister get a dance or what?” She placed a hand on her hip.

“Sure,” I told her as I stood, trying my best to use my tuxedo jacket to hide my erection.

I thought about Jessica and the kids back in Seattle. Like I said earlier, I'd never cheated on my wife before, but dancing wasn't cheating, so I didn't feel any guilt. Tiffany led the way to the dance floor, and for the first time, I saw that bodacious ass of hers. It looked just like a Georgia peach in that tight-fitting dress, and my dick got just a little bit harder.

When we got on the dance floor, Tiffany wrapped her arms around my neck and placed her head on my shoulder. She was so soft and smelled so good that I just wanted to squeeze her and pull her in close, but I resisted. I didn't want her to feel my bulging manhood up against her dress. I wanted to believe she wouldn't mind, but the last thing I needed was to get slapped on the dance floor at Brent's wedding.

“I love this song,” she whispered, snuggling her head up against my neck. She pulled me in a little closer, and I'm sure she could feel what was going on down below. “Whenever I hear it, I think of you and the prom. That was the best night of my life.”

“Mine too.” I couldn't see her face, but I was sure she was smiling from the sigh she let out. She pulled me in closer and my stuff slid right up against the soft mound between her legs.

“You've got me feeling like we're in high school again, Sonny.” I rubbed my hands against the skin where her dress was open in the back. “I'm starting to feel like it's the prom all over again.” I didn't reply. I was too busy enjoying the pleasure of our bodies rubbing up against each other.

“That was the first time I ever spent the entire night with a man.”

“For me that was the first night for a lot of things,” I whispered.

“I'll never forget that night. That was the first time you ever went down on me.”

“You know, I had to read a book to find out what to do.”

“What's the name of that book? 'Cause there's a lot of men that need to read it. You were the absolute bomb.” Now I was blushing.

“It's called
The Joy of Sex
.”

“Oh, it was a joy, all right.” She reached behind and moved my hands lower. I stopped them at her waist, opening my eyes to see who might be looking. I wanted to feel Tiffany's ass, to massage it with my hands, but I was afraid someone might see me. Fortunately, most of the guests had left shortly after the bride and groom, and everyone on the dance floor was preoccupied. I slowly guided my hands below her waist, feeling the soft globes of her perfectly round backside.

“That's not too much for you to handle, is it?” she teased. “She's a little bigger than she used to be back in the day.”

“Nah,” I replied, my hands continuing to roam. “You don't have to worry. I can handle it. I like 'em big.”

“Good.” She pulled me in closer and our two-step became a flat-footed grind.

We danced like that for at least one more song without a word being said, and I was starting to feel woozy. I hadn't had more than one or two glasses of champagne throughout the night, but I felt like I was drunk. I'd heard of people getting sex-drunk, but I'd always thought of it as an urban myth until now.

I think Tiffany was just as intoxicated as I was because the way she was grinding up against me, I wouldn't have been surprised if she was close to orgasm.

“Sonny,” she whispered halfway through the third song.

“Yes?”

“My kids are with my ex-husband tonight. I was wondering if you'd like to come home with me.”

I lifted my head and looked in her eyes. I would have gone anywhere with her at that moment. “Yeah, I'll go home with you,” I replied without any hesitation.

I bent down to kiss her, but the music stopped and the lights came on before our lips could meet. We stepped apart, but it was hard because we were still drawn to each other. I tried to position my rock-hard manhood in my pants so it wouldn't be so conspicuous, while Tiffany scrambled to push down her hiked-up dress. We got ourselves together just in time, because her girlfriend called her from the door like she was her mama, and on top of that, James was headed our way.

“I'll meet you in the parking lot. I gotta get rid of my friend,” she said.

“No problem. Looks like I'm gonna have to do the same.”

She stepped toward me as if she wanted a kiss, then stepped back when she glanced at her friend. “I'll be outside,” she mouthed then walked toward the door, switching her ass just for my benefit. I couldn't wait to get her out of that dress.

“Hey, is that who I think it is? Is that your ex, Tiffany?” James pointed and we both watched her walk away.

“Yeah, that's her,” I said nonchalantly.

“Man, she's sure got a nice ass.” He laughed. “Bet you wish you could get some of that again.”

“Yep, that'd be nice.” We stepped outside. I took out a pack of cigarettes from my tuxedo pocket. James caught me smirking as I placed one in my mouth.

“What's going on, man? What are you up to?”

“Who, me?” I pointed at myself, grinning innocently.

“Yeah, you. What were you two talking about?” James obviously sensed something, but I don't think he understood the full magnitude of what was going on.

“She wants me to go home with her tonight.” I lit my cigarette, my eyes still glued on Tiffany's behind.

James laughed. “Get the fuck outta here. She does not!”

I gave him a very serious look. My words were condescending. “Okay, if you say so.”

James studied my face. “Oh, shit. You're serious, aren't you?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Just like that. After all these years, she just walks up to you and asks you to sleep with her?”

“Well, we did dance first.”

He stared at me a moment, then finally said, “Daaaaaamn, women are bold these days.”

“It's the world we live in, bro. Look at how they treat Brent. Get used to it.”

“So, what'd you tell her? You gonna do it?”

I took a long drag of my cigarette, then exhaled as I answered his question with another question. “What would you tell the woman with the best coochie you ever had in your life if she offered you some?”

I grinned smugly, smoking my cigarette as he contemplated my question. After a few seconds, he smiled, reaching in his wallet. He pulled out a condom and handed it to me. At that point, we both knew his answer.

“Don't make the same mistake I did. But don't do anything I wouldn't do.” He patted me on the back, and I actually stuck out my chest with pride.

“Don't worry, I will…and a whole lot more.” I took another drag of my cigarette and started walking toward the door to get my coat.

“Hey, Sonny? What about Jessica?”

I stopped and turned toward my friend. “What about her? What she doesn't know won't hurt her.”