by Untamed
At the most inopportune time, the deliveryman began to recognize everyone. “Hey, you’re the Lincoln Harper, and you’re Ryan Westmore! OMG and Marcus Cottrell! Man, can I have your autographs?” he asked, and they obliged.
“Man, Mr. Harper, you are one lucky man. I wish my girl were able to order me this television. Sharp’s ninety-inch flat screen is the truth,” he bragged to my dismay as Lincoln signed his autograph.
“Thanks. We’ll reschedule,” Lincoln said quickly and closed the door on the deliveryman.
Before Lincoln could turn around good, Ryan started in on him. “Dude, you’re my best friend—my brother from another mother. Tell me that my babies’ mother being here like this is some kind of misunderstanding or surprise for me,” Ryan hollered. “And why are you here in that outfit at his house, Charice?” he all but yelled at me, though neither one of us were really decent. Lincoln only had on a pair of gym shorts with no shirt on and some tennis shoes.
Marcus shook his head in dismay. “Come on, dawg. Man, please tell me you ain’t playing foul like that.”
Lincoln stood there and just stared at Ryan with the most apologetic look on his face and shook his head, unable to speak. What could he say in this situation? Lincoln turned to look at me. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, and I mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
“Say something,” Ryan screamed at Lincoln.
“Ryan, I . . .” Lincoln hesitated, swiping his hand over the top of his head.
I walked up, stood beside Lincoln, and turned his face to mine. “It’s okay. I’m with you.” Lincoln looked as if his heart were ripping in half, yet we wrapped our arms around each other, and together we faced Ryan, who paced back and forth.
“Ryan, I’m sorry. Charice and I . . . we’re together as a couple, and we wanted to tell you this in private. I never meant for you to find out—”
Without notice, Ryan charged for him. I jumped out of the way just in time to see them topple back on the floor.
“Oh my God! Stop! Ryan, please,” I screamed as they tried to pummel each other.
“You muthafucka,” Ryan bellowed.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lincoln yelled, suppressing him.
“Come on, dawgs,” Marcus screamed. “Stop this shit!”
“We’re a team, man,” Lamar added.
“Can you two please stop them? Somebody is going to get hurt,” I yelled as Ryan and Lincoln continued to tussle.
Ryan struck Lincoln with some hellacious punches, and Lincoln had to pop him a couple of times just to back him down. I could tell he really didn’t want to fight Ryan, but if someone didn’t stop it, Lincoln would have no choice but to actually fight back, and then there would really be a damn situation in here. Finally, Marcus was able to pull Ryan off and pin his arms down.
“Come on, dawg, for real. Let it ride. Don’t catch no case. You’ve got a career to think about,” he coaxed.
Ryan spat blood on the floor, and I ran to Lincoln, checking out his swollen jaw and his eye, which was already turning blue. “Baby.” I petted him.
“‘Baby’? For real, Charice? Tell me not for real,” Ryan heaved.
My emotions were everywhere as I faced Ryan. “I’m sorry, Ryan, but it’s the truth. Neither one of us did anything to try to hurt you, but your heart can’t help who it loves.”
“So all this giving me advice on how to get Charice back was just a front, huh, bruh? You wasn’t man enough to tell me that you been sticking it to my babies’ mother? How long have you been fucking my babies’ mother, Linc?”
“Ryan, we wanted to wait until we were sure this is what we wanted,” Lincoln said. “I was going to tell you.”
“It shouldn’t have happened at all, muthafucka! You were supposed to be my best friend! Linc, she is my kids’ mother. I’m supposed to be happy that you get my girl and I don’t? Fuck is wrong with you? You couldn’t find your own woman, so you go after mine?” Ryan yelled as he paced back and forth under Marcus’s watchful eye.
“For real, dawg, how would you feel if he went for your baby’s mother?” Lamar asked snidely.
“You keep your rookie ass out of this! Besides, I wouldn’t give a fuck,” Lincoln yelled back.
“No, you wouldn’t, because you been too busy sticking it to my babies’ mother to care,” Ryan hollered. “When was you gon’ tell me, dawg? Huh? Let me see, maybe when you were walking down the fucking aisle, is that it?”
Lincoln paused. I was sure to the others it seemed as if he was simply at a loss for words, but I knew that Ryan’s words stung him, coming from an all-too-real place. The fact was we were about to walk down the aisle, and that was exactly the situation in which Lincoln had chosen to tell him.
As if he’d tapped into our thoughts, Marcus tried to coax Ryan by saying, “We need to go. Nothing is going to get resolved today.” He put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
Ryan snatched away from him and approached me. “Ricey, I did some fucked-up things to you. I know it. But this is me. This is us,” he said desperately, caressing my face in his hands. “We deserve a chance to be together as a family. We have three children together. They adore me and you. Give us a chance. I don’t know what this muthafucka filled your head with, but I know you. I know your heart. Please don’t do this. I’ll prove how serious I am.” He grabbed my hands and kneeled down on one knee. “Please be my wife . . .” He felt my ring finger and looked down at my hand. “What the fuck is this?”
My tears continued their relentless path down my face. I just wanted to lie down somewhere and die. “Um . . .” I couldn’t find the words to say.
Lincoln exhaled. “We were going to tell you.”
“I know this is not what I think it is,” Ryan said, his voice quavering. “Tell me it’s not, Ricey.”
I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes, and released the information that was sure to send Ryan completely over the edge.
“Ryan, I’m sorry. We’ve been dating for a little over six months. Lincoln proposed to me, and I, umm, I accepted. We’re getting married,” I managed to say in a shaky voice.
“Six . . . six months,” Ryan said as if someone knocked the wind out of his chest. He stood on shaky legs and staggered backward. “Married?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“That was before the Super Bowl,” Ryan whispered. “You’ve been pushing up on her since you met her?” Ryan asked in disgust. “You muthafucka!” he yelled, charging at Lincoln again.
Ryan wrapped his hands around Lincoln’s throat, trying to choke the life out of him. Marcus and Lamar were trying their best to pry Ryan off as Lincoln fought against Ryan’s tight grip.
“I’m gonna kill you! You muthafucka!” Ryan yelled with pure malice. I’d never seen him so enraged and jealous in my life. He was literally trying to kill Lincoln.
“Please, stop, Ryan,” I cried. “Please don’t hurt him!”
Finally, Lincoln kneed Ryan in the stomach, and he doubled over, holding his stomach in pain. Lincoln rubbed his throat as he coughed and gagged. Marcus and Lamar tried to restrain Ryan from getting to Lincoln again.
“Let’s go, man,” Marcus yelled at Ryan.
“Hell no! This muthafucka gonna pay.” Ryan tried to break free. He was like a caged lion with his eyes on the prey.
“I don’t want to hurt you physically, man,” Lincoln said between coughs. “I’ve hurt you enough. Please listen to them and leave. I’m not going to let you keep popping off on me, for real, dawg. We’ll deal with this when cooler heads prevail.”
“If you think I’m ever gonna calm down about this, then you done lost your fucking mind. I swear I’m murk-ing for you, nigga. Every fucking chance I get. You better strap the fuck up, nigga, ’cause I swear it’s fucking on every time. Every time,” Ryan yelled.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t change it,” Lincoln apologized.
“Then leave her! Prove you are really my dawg. Prove you are truly sorry, and just leave her alone,�
� Ryan yelled.
Lincoln shook his head angrily. “Foul or not, hate me or not, if I have to fight you every day for the rest of my life, then so be it, because what I will not do is leave Charice. I love her, and she will be my wife!”
“Fine, it’s your funeral,” Ryan snarled and broke free from Marcus and Lamar.
I jumped in front of Lincoln before Ryan could get to him, stopping Ryan dead in his tracks. “If you’re going to hurt him, if you’re going to kill him, then you’re going to have to do the same to me! I’m not going to let you touch him anymore, Ryan. I love him, and I will not let anything happen to him. Nothing!”
Ryan cocked his head sideways and looked at me. “It’s like that, Charice?” he asked, brokenhearted, as tears found their way to his eyes for the first time. He pointed to himself. “You picking him over me?”
“Yes,” I said confidently. “Please, just go.” I began to cry and fell back into Lincoln’s embrace.
“It’s okay, baby,” Lincoln said, kissing my head. “I love you.”
Ryan shook his head, not caring that he was crying too. “Charice,” he whimpered. He held his chest as if someone had just snatched his heart right out of the cavity. Without any notice or further words, Ryan turned and ran out of the house with Marcus and Lamar following.
Slowly, I moved toward the door, closing and bolting it behind them. A wave of hysteria came over me, and I slid to the floor in a mess of tears. Lincoln rushed to me, picked me up, and carried me to our bedroom, where he laid me on the bed and held me as I cried.
“We’ll be okay now. Nothing is going to happen to us. We’ll be okay,” he kept repeating over and over again.
But I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure at all.
Chapter Seven
Lucinda
It’d been a month, and there was still no change on the job hunt. I felt a little discouraged, but I wasn’t going to let it get me down. Besides, I was fulfilling my dream of being enrolled in college. Financially speaking, my severance pay had run out. However, I was getting my unemployment checks, and I had a couple grand left from the money I made at Club Moet.
Speaking of good ol’ Club Moet, the funniest part about the whole situation was that Pooch actually called me to come back. Seemed his patrons missed me more than he thought they would. I found great pleasure in telling him no. In more Club Moet news, I’d bumped into that crazy Alize at the mall, and she gave me the scoop on Greg’s grimy ass. He tried to steal from Pooch by claiming that he’d lost money on my stunt move, but Alize told Pooch that I’d given Greg the money in full that he’d paid out. Once Pooch confronted him, he gave up the money, and Pooch gave Greg the ax. He was lucky that’s all he got. It was one thing to lie on me, but it could’ve been his funeral for stealing from Pooch. Now some new cat named Big Cal, who was his right-hand man, was running the show. Apparently, he was real cool, and the girls liked him twenty times better than Greg. That’s what happens when you try to be grimy.
I even got a request from Magic City to come and join their stripper clique. I guessed the word spread quickly about ol’ Spanish Fly, but I denied them, too. The money was appealing, but I wasn’t going to sell my soul for cheap tricks anymore. I was slowly learning to trust in God. Whenever I removed myself from the picture and let Him guide me, things always tended to work out. I had no clue how I was going to make it, but I wasn’t going down the path I had been headed down to get there. Of that, I was certain.
I was also certain that Raul came to my job that day so that he could get fired from his. It was the only logical explanation. He knew that National Cross would press charges, which they did, and that he would get locked up, which he was, for disorderly conduct and trespassing. He also knew that if he got locked up, then he’d get fired from his job, which he did, and getting fired meant not being able to pay child support. See what I mean? How completely selfish is that? He would rather lose his job and get a record than take care of his child? Nadia didn’t ask to come here. Our irresponsible actions brought her here, and it was both of our responsibilities to see that she was well taken care of. He was so busy trying to get back at me that his dumb ass didn’t figure that I would get fired too. That’s what happens when you plan dumb shit.
Well, if he thought he was off the hook, he could think again. I contacted my attorney, who was more than happy to march into the judge’s chambers and get an order to keep Raul locked up. That’s right. Before Raul could be released from his ninety-day jail sentence, he had to pay back support for those three months. I only wished I could’ve seen his face when that news was delivered to him. Oh well.
Chillin’ out in my favorite lounging outfit—a tank top and a pair of booty shorts—I enjoyed this Sunday break. My mama had the day off, and she decided to spend some time with Nadia, which gave me the perfect opportunity to study and do homework. Just as I’d finished one of my assignments, my cell phone vibrated. I didn’t recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail. As soon as I drank a sip of my iced mocha, the same number called me again.
“Either they know me or desperately need to contact the person they are looking for,” I deduced before answering. “Hello?”
“Hello, may I speak with Lucinda?” a man’s voice asked.
“This is she. Who is this?”
“Hi, Lucinda. It’s Aldris.”
I smiled. “Oh, hi, Aldris! How are you? This is quite a surprise.”
“I’m good. I can’t complain. How are you?” he replied.
“Not bad, actually. I’m in school now. In fact, I was just sitting here doing some assignments.”
“That’s great, Lucinda! I’m glad to hear it.”
“I told you I’d be all right.”
“You did,” he concurred. “Does this mean that you have also found a job?”
Leave it to him to bring up my point of pain. Rather than get upset about it, I let it go, because he was only checking on me. “Unfortunately, no. I’m still searching, but I know something will come up.”
“That’s exactly why I was calling you. I didn’t mean to disturb you or call back-to-back like that, but I may have an opportunity for you,” he said excitedly.
“Really?” I asked with high anticipation.
“Yes, really,” he confirmed. “Is there any way you could meet me somewhere so we could discuss it?”
“Um, I’m sure I could. Is there somewhere in particular you’d like to meet?” I asked, grabbing my pen and paper just in case I needed to get directions.
“Great! I just got home from church, and I’m starving. I have a taste for a good, juicy burger,” he told me. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Will you meet me at the Varsity in Kennesaw in, say, forty-five minutes?” he asked.
“I can do that.” I looked down at my inappropriate attire.
“Good. Bring your appetite, and I’ll bring the wallet,” he joked.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know what I don’t have to do, Lucinda. I’m offering, and you’re going to accept it,” he interjected sternly yet with respect.
“My bad, dude. You got it. I forget how much of a gentleman you are,” I accepted.
“Yes, I try. So please allow me to be a gentleman to you. Can you do that?”
“No doubt,” I answered.
“Good. I’ll see you in about forty-five,” he said, and we hung up.
I was pleasantly surprised that Aldris called, and I appreciated that he didn’t use this opportunity to make me feel low or embarrassed about the whole strip club incident. Hell, he didn’t even mention it. That’s not to say that he wouldn’t. I just liked that he was able to act as if he had not seen my ass clapping in his face.
Since the last time he saw me I looked like a straight-up hooker, I wanted to make a better impression. I was determined to make him remember Lucinda and not Spanish Fly, so I chose khaki Capri pants, a round-neck fitted yellow T-shirt, a green high-back, short-sleeved mini jacket
, and tan wedges. The ensemble tastefully graced my size-eight figure. To finish, I added light makeup and green eye shadow to accentuate my hazel eye color. My curly locks, caramel skin, and attire were sheer perfection. Exactly fifty minutes later, I arrived to find Aldris inside, waiting for me.
He stood as I approached the table. “I’m sorry. I hope I’m not too late,” I apologized for my slight tardiness.
“Oh no, I only just got here about five minutes ago,” he said as we sat down. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” I blushed. “And you look good yourself. You dress down very well.” I admired his royal blue Polo shirt, knee-length dark denim jeans, Nikes, and his dark blue Yankee baseball cap. But I shouldn’t have expected any less. This cat was always sharp. “You look twenty-eight today,” I added.
He burst into laughter. “Oh, you got jokes!”
“I’m just saying.” I shrugged and laughed along with him.
We continued to joke around about my comment while we walked to the counter. I ordered two chili dogs with a medium Coke, and he ordered a chili cheeseburger, chili dog, fries, and a large Coke. He pulled out a twenty spot to take care of the tab and grabbed our food.
“Good Lawd, my dude. Can you eat all of that?” I asked, amazed at the amount of food he had as we made our way to the table again.
He chuckled at my question. “I’m a big eater. What can I say? Besides, I couldn’t decide between the burger and the dog.”
“I’ll bet your chick stays in the kitchen.”
“Actually, I don’t have a chick. I do a little something-something, but mostly my home-cooked meals come from my mom’s house on Sundays.”
“Oh, you go to her house every Sunday?”
“Sometimes. Of three sons, I’m the only one who moved back to Atlanta after college, so I try to go over and check up on her as much as possible. In return, she cooks me some killer meals.”
“Three boys? I know the refrigerator stayed empty.”
