by La Jill Hunt
“I know. I saw it on the news. Why didn’t you tell me you lived in the same neighborhood as King D and Scorpio’s fine ass? You really living it up out there, bro.” Sam laughed.
“Man, I didn’t know. It’s a lot of big-time people living out here. Remember that chick Riley Rodriguez?”
“From Family Brides?”
“Yeah, her. She lives right down the street!”
“What? That’s crazy! And you didn’t know?”
“Naw, I didn’t. You know me. I just stay in my crib and mind my business, and I guess everyone else around here does too!” Marcus said. “As much as I hate being so far away from home, the one thing that I love about being out here is that I don’t have to worry about folks talking. It’s peaceful, for real. Kids go to school, Lisa does her thing, and I got my own space.”
“Sounds like I need to come check it out, for real. Besides, I need to holler at you about some other ideas I have for us.”
“Ideas like what?” Marcus was almost hesitant to ask. Sam didn’t have a wife and kids to take care of. He had a bit more flexibility and freedom to spend his share of the lottery winnings. Whereas Marcus’s immediate concern was making sure they had a home, savings for his kids’ future, and a cushion for him and his wife to be able to live comfortably, Sam bought a fleet of luxury cars and a spacious condo, and he was always ready to invest in whatever sounded like a good idea. He didn’t seem concerned with making sure solid business plans or sales forecasts were in place. As long as it sounded like it was going to make money, he was in it to win it.
“I’ll tell you about the ideas when I get there,” Sam said.
“Get where?” Marcus asked.
“I figured I would come and hang out with you for a few days. You know, check the area out. You did say that there were a few more lots for sale, right? I’m starting to see that leaving here was a smart thing to do. I can’t go nowhere without someone hitting me up, and I got chicks blowing up my spot left and right. It ain’t no fun anymore, and I’m bored without you.”
“Does this have anything to do with those two chicks at Maxwell’s and your windshield being busted out?” Marcus had heard all about two women brawling over Sam at a local nightclub and his car being vandalized.
Sam had always had a reputation with the ladies, but money had made him even more of a womanizer. Marcus had suggested that he take some time and travel, hitting up Miami, L.A., and other locations known for the party scene, but Sam enjoyed being Bristol’s bachelor of the year.
“Come on, bro. You know shit like that has been popping off for years. This is me you’re talking about.”
Sam had a point. It wasn’t the first time women fought over him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Marcus wondered if his brother would ever meet a woman who would be able to tame him enough to finally settle down.
“You’re right. So when are you planning on coming?” Marcus asked, now wondering how he was going to explain this to Lisa. Although he knew Lisa loved Sam, he also understood it was because he was Marcus’s brother and she felt obligated to do so. The fact of the matter was that she didn’t like him very much. Marcus knew that had a lot to do with Sam causing havoc over the years in the lives of so many of her female friends and family members, including her sister, Shari. He was not looking forward to letting her know that Sam would be coming.
“I’m not really sure yet. I will let you know,” Sam said. “Where is your ball and chain? I mean, better half?”
“Don’t do that,” Marcus warned. “She’s inside baking, as usual.”
“That’s one thing I’m looking forward to while I’m there. Some of Lisa’s peach cobbler and her blueberry pound cake. That woman can do no wrong when it comes to that oven. I gotta give her that.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Marcus nodded.
“Well, look, I’ma holla at you later on.”
Marcus said his goodbyes and ended the call. He was looking forward to seeing his brother. Although their lives were very different prior to Marcus settling down with Lisa, they were very much the same. Marcus had kept a solid rotation of women and never lacked when it came to dating. When he decided to ask Lisa to marry him, Sam tried his best to talk him out of it, calling him whipped, henpecked, and everything in between. Even after their wedding, Sam had tried to slip a few women Marcus’s way.
He remembered one night when, after working a double shift at the plant, Sam suggested they stop at a bar to celebrate with Tina, a female coworker who was having a party. It had been a while since Marcus had hung out, and Lisa was out of town with her mother and their two boys. Cocoa hadn’t even been conceived, let alone born.
Not wanting to go home to an empty house, Marcus agreed. When they arrived, the party guests consisted of Sam, Marcus, and Tina’s older cousin, Tish, who also happened to be a girl who had a thing for Marcus in high school. Marcus realized it was a setup. His initial reaction was to pull Sam to the side and demand that they leave, but Sam convinced him that he hadn’t known they would be the only ones there, and there was no harm in sharing a couple of beers, a basket of nachos, and some cake. Marcus agreed to stay, and the four of them had a few rounds of drinks before eventually, a few more people showed up.
Marcus had played a couple of games of pool and was finally starting to relax and enjoy himself when Tish decided to give Marcus a lap dance to a Ludacris song. As much as he didn’t want to enjoy the sight of Tish’s perfectly shaped, curvaceous ass bouncing to the beat in front of him, along with the sight of her D-cup breasts bulging from the tight, low-cut shirt she wore, Marcus did. He ignored any thoughts of walking away, pushing her away, or leaving altogether. And somehow, he easily convinced himself there was no harm in looking.
Like any good husband, though, once the song ended, and Tish put her arms around him, trying to kiss him, he excused himself and told Sam it was definitely time to go.
Marcus forced that incident into the back of his mind and had almost forgotten about it until a few days later, when he came home from work and found a cake sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. He didn’t think anything of it because Lisa always brought goodies home from the bakery. He’d taken off his work boots, plopped down on the sofa, and was watching TV when 4-year-old Michael walked in and climbed beside him.
“Dad, who is Tina?”
Marcus continued staring at the television screen and said, “I don’t know.”
“Mommy said to ask you who Tina is,” Michael repeated.
Marcus frowned and looked at his son. “What are you talking about, Mikey?”
“Mommy brought home a birthday cake, and it says, ‘Happy Birthday, Tina,’ and when I asked her who is that, she said ask you.”
Marcus moved his son so he could stand up, and he rushed into the kitchen. He opened the pink cake box. Sure enough, there was a large, round cake with “Happy Birthday, Tina” written on it.
His heart began pounding, and he closed his eyes, knowing that somehow he had been caught. He closed the lid on the cake box and slowly walked into their small bedroom where he found Lisa sitting on the bed, flipping through a magazine.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?” he asked, leaning over to kiss her.
She moved out of the way and didn’t say anything, continuing to flip the pages.
“Lisa, let me explain. I promise nothing happened. It was after work on Friday, and Sam wanted me to come with him to this get-together Tina was having for her birthday. I had no idea Tish was even gonna be there. Sam didn’t even tell me. All we did was have some drinks.”
“And?” Lisa looked up from the magazine and stared at him.
“And we had some nachos,” Marcus added.
“And?” Lisa continued to stare.
“And we played pool.”
“And?” Lisa said, her voice rising as she put the magazine down and folded her arms.
“And we danced together.”
“Just danced?”
Marcus closed his
eyes and finally said, “Okay, she was grinding up on me. But I swear, I didn’t touch her.”
“And?”
“And she tried to kiss me. But, baby, that’s when I got up and told Sam it was time to go and we left. Sam brought me home, and that was it. Nothing else happened. I swear! I don’t know what else you heard, but anything else is a lie, baby. I promise.”
“You know what I heard, Marcus? I heard that skank Tina who works with y’all had a party at the club and the cake was whack and had people known that my husband was gonna be there, they woulda just had you bring the cake! That’s what I heard, until you told me all the other stuff just now!”
Marcus hung his head in shame. He was busted, but he made his own situation worse.
“The cake I made was a joke to let you know that I knew about you being at the skank’s party. But now I know why you were there!”
“Lisa, baby—” Marcus reached for her, but she snatched away and stood up.
“And you wonder why I can’t stand your bitch-ass brother,” Lisa said and walked out of the room, leaving him feeling even guiltier than he had on Friday night.
It took some time and a whole lot of begging and pleading, but Lisa forgave him. Eventually, she forgave Sam, but she never forgot. His wife remained cordial with his brother, and things had gotten slightly better after their lottery win, but Marcus still wasn’t sure if Lisa was open to Sam visiting their new home just yet.
He walked back inside the home and found his wife pouring batter into what looked like dozens of cupcake pans. The kitchen counters were covered in ingredients. Reggae music was blaring through the surround-sound system into the kitchen.
“What in the world are you doing, woman?” he asked her.
Lisa swayed to the beat. “Making cupcakes.”
“Whose class is having a bake sale and needs cupcakes now? Didn’t you just make some last week? And why does that school keep needing to have bake sales anyway if we are paying all that damn tuition?” Marcus asked, trying to dip his finger into the bowl of chocolate.
“Stop it, Marcus!” Lisa used her hip to move him out of the way.
“That’s not what you were telling me last night while you were baking,” he teased.
“I’m not making these for the school. I’m making these for dessert baskets.”
“For who?”
“For our neighbors.”
“What?” Marcus was confused.
“I’m gonna make baskets of goodies for all of our neighbors and use them as invitations,” Lisa told him.
“Invitations to what?”
“A barbecue!”
“A what?”
“How does this sound? ‘This basket of sweets is just to say you’re invited to a barbecue next Saturday!’”
“What are you talking about? When did we decide to have a barbecue and why?” Marcus leaned against the counter.
“Marcus, I realized last night that we don’t know our neighbors.”
“Okay, and our neighbors don’t know us either. I think we should keep it that way.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
“Isn’t that why we moved all the way the hell out here, Lisa? To get away from people, especially nosy-ass neighbors.”
Lisa rolled her eyes at him. “It’s different out here. These people ain’t begging, and they don’t care about how much money we have because they got money of their own. It shouldn’t take a tragedy like what happened last night to bring us together.”
“So you think these people are actually gonna come over for a cookout? These people are millionaires, Lisa. Actresses, preachers, and God knows what else. They don’t go to backyard bashes and pig pickins. This ain’t Carolina!” Marcus shook his head.
“They are people just like us. And I’m sure they will come if they’re invited. I’m proud to be from Carolina. I ain’t ashamed. I’m inviting them. If they come, fine. If they don’t, that’s fine too. At least they’ll know that we are nice enough to invite them over,” Lisa said. “Besides, you had that barbecue pit custom built in the backyard, and you haven’t fired up the grill not one time since we’ve moved here.”
Lisa was right. He hadn’t used his prized pit. Grilling was something he loved to do when they lived in North Carolina. As broke as they were, they always seemed to be able to throw a great backyard get-together. All they needed were a pack of hotdogs, some buns, and a bag of charcoal for the small grill they had. Friends would bring side dishes and coolers of beer, and everyone would have a great time. He wondered if his wife understood that it wouldn’t be the same. He couldn’t imagine Bishop Walter Burke and his wife dancing to Maze Featuring Frankie Beverly, their favorite cookout CD.
“I’m proud of where we’re from, and you know that. You wanna have a cookout, fine. We’ll have the best damn cookout this neighborhood has ever seen. Hell, it will probably be the only cookout this neighborhood has ever seen.” Marcus pulled his wife to him and looked at her.
He was still in love with her now as much as he was in high school. His brother and his boys had teased him when he started dating her because she was, as they called her, a big girl. But for Marcus, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He still couldn’t believe that she married him. He loved her full breasts and thick waist and her smile that lit up a room. She just made his life better. Lisa had stuck with him when he barely had anything to give, and now he wanted to give her the world.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you too.” Lisa smiled and kissed him.
“Let’s have another baby.” Marcus surprised himself when the words came out of his mouth.
“What did you just say?” Lisa looked just as shocked as he felt.
“I want another baby.”
“Marcus, you’re joking, right?”
He loved his three kids more than anything in the world, but in reality, none of them were planned. Marcus and Lisa were barely 19 when Michael was born, and protection wasn’t anything either of them was concerned with at the time. Aaron unexpectedly came two years later, and Faith three years after that, again unplanned. Standing there in their dream home, with his wife in his arms, Marcus realized that this was their chance to decide and plan to have another child.
“I’m serious. It’s not like we can’t afford it. Let’s have a baby.”
Lisa looked at him and said, “I have to think about that one. Right now, I just want us to have a cookout.”
* * *
The next day the kids were playing in the backyard, and Lisa headed out to deliver her goody basket invitations. Marcus was in the theater room, munching on popcorn and watching his favorite channel, Animal Planet, when he heard the doorbell ring. He made his way down the staircase and through the long hallway. Opening the door, he blinked, wondering if he was seeing things.
“What’s up, bro. I decided not to wait and hopped on a flight this morning. You surprised?” Sam stood grinning on the doorstep.
Marcus looked down and saw the Louis Vuitton luggage on the steps next to him. He realized that he’d been so busy planning a cookout and a baby with Lisa that he forgot to tell her his brother was coming to visit.
Chapter 11
Sarena Powell Douglas (Scorpio)
Everything on Scorpio’s body hurt: her face, her arms, and her legs. It even hurt to breathe. She could hear people talking in the distance, but even the thought of opening her eyes hurt. She tried to focus on what they were saying so she could figure out exactly where she was, how she got there, and most importantly why she was hurting so badly. Her mind was groggy, and she couldn’t tell if she was dreaming.
“Right now we have her intubated to keep her airway from closing due to swelling.”
Intubated? Swelling?
“The worst of the burns were suffered on her legs and right foot, which we have treated. It doesn’t appear as if she will need plastic surgery right now, but time will tell.”
Burns? Surgery?
“Sh
e’s a very lucky woman to have survived that fire.”
Fire?
The last thing Scorpio remembered was being in Vixen’s with her friends. Was there a fire at the strip club? Were her friends all right? Where were Marcelo, Dina, and Natalie?
“Thank you so much, Doctor. We appreciate everything you all are doing.”
Scorpio realized she had to be dreaming when she heard the familiar voice. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in months and one she didn’t want to hear. Her heart began pounding, and as much as it hurt to open her eyes, she did so in an effort to wake up. She glanced around the room, blinking as she tried to focus. She could see a blurry figure standing nearby talking to a man in a white coat, which let her know that she had to be in a hospital.
“The main thing now is that she must continue to get as much rest as possible. The next couple of days will be critical, which is why we are keeping her in ICU. But I’m confident that she will be fine,” the doctor told the blurry figure.
“Thank you again,” the blurry figure replied. There was no mistaking the voice. The heaviness of the tone, the crispness of the words—it was a voice that made even the toughest of men stare and stand at attention. That voice had put the fear of God into Scorpio for the slightest infraction as a toddler, a child, and a teenager. It was the voice that she escaped years ago and dreaded hearing on the other end of the phone when she saw the name on her caller ID. It was the voice of Yolanda Powell, her mother. Scorpio was not dreaming. Her worst nightmare had come true.
She tried getting up out of bed, but pain shot through her body, and although she tried to talk, she couldn’t. A beeping sound filled the room, and she realized that it was coming from one of the machines connected to her body.
“Mrs. Douglas, don’t move!” The doctor came over quickly.
“Sarena! Sarena! Do what he says,” her mother warned.
Stop calling me that! Scorpio yelled in her mind because she was unable to do so with her voice. She settled down as the doctor told her that she couldn’t talk because there was a tube down her throat to help her breathe. He then went on to tell her that she was heavily medicated, so moving was not possible.
