by Jazz Jordan
“Doctors don’t know everything,” he replied.
As much as I hated to admit it, Frank’s attention was a welcome distraction from my pain. Every night after I was released from the hospital, he came to my apartment with takeout from my favorite restaurant and a bottle of wine. At first, we only shared conversation and laughter. When I asked him why he was spending so much time away from Tisha, his relatively new bride, he said, “I’m more concerned about you.” He explained that he only married Tisha to keep up appearances, that it was a marriage of convenience. He also said he wished our baby would have lived, and he told me he thought about divorcing her every day.
There was a lot of undeniable sexual tension building up between us, but I refused to give in to it until I had proof that he was done with Tisha. One night, he showed up with a copy of a court petition, stating that he was legally separated from her. That was all the evidence I needed, and I gave into all of my desires. We resumed our affair right where we’d left off, and it was even more passionate and more erotic than before. Everything was on the menu, from handcuffs to anal sex.
Whenever I asked him when he was going to finalize his divorce, he said he had to sort out his finances. A court battle with Tisha would claim half of his income, and Frank wasn’t the type of man who was accustomed to life without four-star restaurants. After she got pregnant the second time, he promised he was going to officially leave her after the baby was born. Then, he decided that he would wait until the child started preschool. Eventually, I realized Frank had no intentions of cutting ties with his baby-making, blowjob-lipped wife. When I found out he’d gone so low as to fabricate his separation papers, I broke up with him.
Frank really put the M in manipulation. I got so angry when I thought about all the shit he’d put me through. Worst of all, I was mad at myself for being such a fool for so long. Now, I was sitting in his office, and I had to turn away from the gut-wrenching photographic evidence of his Huxtable-esque family. I looked up at his wide grin and asked, “What do you want? You know I’ve got a deadline right now.”
“You look kinda tense. I know something that would help you relax.”
“Me too. Getting away from you,” I snapped, then stood up to leave.
He laughed. “Calm down, Kai. It’s not what you think.” He opened his desk and pulled out a flyer for the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) Conference in Atlanta. “It’s next month, and I’d like you to come with me.”
“Why don’t you ask somebody else?”
“You’re gonna pass up a networking opportunity like this? C’mon, Kai. I know how much your career means to you, and this could really open some doors. CNN is one of the media sponsors this year. I know you’ve been looking to jump ship. A little birdie told me you’ve even been sending your résumé around, and—”
“What!? What little birdie? And why are you all up in my business anyway?”
He shrugged as if it was nothing. “I keep tabs on things that are of importance to me. Don’t worry. I won’t tell the producers. I like having you around too much to do anything that could get you fired.”
“Thanks…I guess.”
“Show me your gratitude by coming to Atlanta with me.”
“Let me think about it.”
“If it’s about the money, don’t worry. I can get your plane ticket today.”
“Frank, if I go on this trip, I’ll pay my own way. I can afford my own plane ticket, my own meals, and my own hotel room! I don’t need a sponsor, and I most certainly don’t want to owe you anything. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m grown.”
“Well, you’ve always been the epitome of the independent woman. All I ask is that you let me know by Friday.”
“No problem. In fact, we’ll probably let you know sooner.”
“Wait…‘we’?”
I nodded. “I’m sure my boyfriend would love to take a trip to Hotlanta with me.”
He smiled. “Boyfriend?”
“Deandre Grant. You mighta heard of him. He plays for the Pistons.”
Frank tapped away on his keyboard. “What’s his last name again?”
“Grant. Why?”
“Deandre Grant? C’mon, Kai. He’s just a kid.”
I walked around to the other side Frank’s desk and saw Deandre’s handsome face on the computer screen. “For your information, Deandre is twenty-eight.”
He chuckled. “I remember what you like, and it takes a full-grown man to get the job done.”
“Please, Frank. You’re just jealous of my younger man.”
“Jealous? You know that’s not my style. At forty-one, I still look better most guys half my age.”
“And you’re ten times as vain.”
He smiled. “Never confuse vanity for confidence.”
“Whatever, Frank.”
“How about I bring Tisha and you bring Devonte.”
“Deandre!”
“Pssh. His name is of no consequence to me. I say, may the best man win.”
“Don’t even think about trying anything with me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t think about it. I’m a man of action, as you well know.”
“And I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” I blurted.
“I hope you decide to come.”
I rolled my eyes as I walked out of Frank’s office, and I heard him blowing me a kiss as I shut the door behind me. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and sent Deandre a text message: “Want 2 come w/me 2 ATL next month?”
“When?”
“The weekend of the 3rd.”
“Cool! That’s B4 the season starts. Love the ATL. Let’s do it, Reese’s!”
“Do what?”
“I’ll show U 2nite.”
“I can’t wait 2 get you alone, on our first trip 2gether.”
“C U soon, sexy.”
“;)”
CHAPTER 7
Deandre’s profile looked so sexy behind the wheel of his black Range Rover Sport. I sat in the passenger’s seat, holding the new Louis Vuitton purse he’d bought for me. It was a gorgeous Sunday on Labor Day weekend. The sky was cloudless, and the bright sun warmed my skin through the open window. I was eager to enjoy what was left of summer, and I loved spending those warm days with Deandre.
I knew autumn’s chill was only weeks away. I also knew Deandre would be going to training camp and soon after, he would be traveling the country with the Pistons. I’d heard about the horny groupies that hide inside hotel room closets for a chance to seduce a pro ball player, but I only hoped my relationship with Deandre was solid enough to help him deny those temptations. For the time being, the best I could do was try not to think about it.
“It’s right here,” I said.
Deandre parked in the driveway of my mother’s modest, West Side bungalow.
My heart raced. It was a major step, because Deandre was the first man I’d brought home to meet my family in years.
He opened the door for me and took my hand.
“Thanks,” I said as he helped me out of his SUV.
He smiled. “You’re welcome, sexy.”
Hand in hand, we walked up to the front porch of my childhood home. I rang the bell, and Mama opened the door with a smile, then looked up at Deandre. She was a plump, beautiful woman with ginger-colored skin. Her salt-and-pepper hair was neatly styled in layers of soft curls, and she was wearing her “Motown Sound” t-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Mama looked good for her fifty-seven years, but I wished she’d take better care of herself. She had high blood pressure and diabetes, and the year before, she’d had three toes amputated due to an infection in her right foot. After the surgery, she pledged to exercise and eat more nutritiously, and I even paid for her membership at the YMCA.
Unfortunately, she only went to three senior citizens swimming classes before complaining that the chlorine in the pool dried out her hair. I bought her an expensive Olympic-style swimming cap, but she didn’t eve
n bother to take it out of the plastic wrapper, and she never went back to the Y. After about a month of following a healthy diet, Mama binged on a fattening feast of Popeye’s spicy chicken, Red Lobster Cheddar Bay biscuits and red velvet cake.
“That food’s gonna send you to an early grave, Mama,” I warned her, and it hurt me when she ignored my advice. I loved Mama so much, and I didn’t want to her to go before her time. Sometimes, I thought she neglected her health on purpose. Mama had been lonely since my father’s passing twenty-two years ago, and I thought there might be some part of her that was eager to join him up in Heaven.
“Mama, this is Deandre,” I introduced.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Deandre said, then gave her a hug.
She wrapped her arms around him. “Ooohhh! And he’s got manners too! I pray to Jesus that I’ve met my son-in-law today.”
I blushed. “Mama!”
Deandre smiled. “Your daughter is an amazing woman, and am sure we’ll have a long future together.”
I was shocked to hear him speak so freely about marriage. I thought he might have said it just to be polite, but there was an undeniable sincerity in his tone. I envisioned myself walking down the aisle in a Vera Wang gown, while Deandre’s sexy ass waited for me at the altar.
“I sure hope you brought your appetite!” Mama’s voice snapped me out of my wedding day fantasy.
We walked inside, and our nostrils were instantly hit with the aroma of fried catfish, cornbread, and collard greens.
“Is LaNaya here?” I asked.
“No…and don’t even get me started on that girl!”
“Is she back with Javon?”
“Heaven only knows where she is and what she’s up to. She dropped the kids off on Friday, and I ain’t heard from her since.”
“You shouldn’t let her take advantage of you like that, Mama. You already raised your own kids.”
“Baby, I’m gonna do what I can to make sure those children are taken care of, and I’ll just give the rest to God. But we’re not gonna worry about that now, ‘cause I’ve got good dinner a-waitin’. Ain’t that right, Deandre?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mama limped toward the kitchen. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
My niece and nephew were on the living room couch, giggling at a Disney Channel sitcom. Their brown eyes reflected the bright colors of the flat-screen television. They both had LaNaya’s soft features and brown complexion.
My Cherie Amour was seven years old; yes, my sister named the poor child after her favorite Stevie Wonder song, but we all called her Cher-Cher for short. She was a doll-faced girl, and on this particular day, her braided hair was adorned with rainbow-colored beads.
Javon Jr. was five, but he was tall for his age, and most people assumed he and Cher-Cher were fraternal twins. We called him Li’l JJ. He was an adorable child, with a curly fro and an irresistible, snaggletooth smile.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me!”
They ran into my arms shouting, “Aunt Kai!”
I knelt for a three-way hug. I kissed their cheeks and foreheads and said, “There’s somebody I’d like you two to meet.”
Cher-Cher giggled and looked at Deandre and whispered, “Is he your boyfriend, Aunt Kai?”
I smiled. “Yes. This is my boyfriend, Deandre.”
Li’l JJ looked up at Deandre. “You’re really, really, really, really, really, super tall!”
Deandre laughed. “What’s up, little man?”
“Aunt Kai, your man is fine!” Cher-Cher shouted with a grin.
“Hey! That’s inappropriate for a young lady your age.”
“Sorry. I’m just sayin’.”
“Saying…as in s-a-y-i-n-g!” I corrected her grammar.
“My bad. I wanna learn to talk good so I can be on TV like you, Aunt Kai.”
“I know, Cher-Cher,” I said, wishing LaNaya had given the child a more normal-sounding name. My niece’s career opportunities would likely be limited with My Cherie Amour Jackson printed at the top of her résumé.
“C’mon, y’all! Let’s eat!” Mama called out from the dining room.
We all held hands around the oak table Mama had owned for so long that it felt like a family member. She said a prayer, and we stuffed our faces with soul food, then chased it with generous slices of pound cake.
Afterward, Mama and I washed the dishes, while Li’l JJ, Cher-Cher, and Deandre went to play outside. I looked up from scrubbing a pot with a Brillo pad to watch them through the kitchen blinds. They took turns dribbling the basketball and aiming for the hoop attached to Mama’s garage.
“I ain’t seen that look in your eye since you were all caught up with what’s-his-face,” Mama said; she’d refused to say Frank’s name because he’d hurt me so bad.
“It’s not that serious, Mama. I’ve only been with Deandre for five months.”
“How much more time do you need?”
“You can’t put a timeline on love, Mom.”
“That Deandre’s a real catch. Just look at him out there, playing with those little ones. If I were you, it wouldn’t take me five minutes to make up my mind about that young man.”
“You don’t even know him, Mama. I’m still getting to know him myself.”
“Kai, what’s gotten into your head, girl? The man came to meet your family, and just look how well he gets along with the kids! He’s ready to start a family! But I guess you won’t see the forest for the trees till your stubborn butt gets over what’s-his-face.”
“Mama, I got over Frank years ago!” I said so firmly that the lie almost convinced even me. Truthfully, I wasn’t 100 percent over Frank’s lying ass, and a small part of me was still in love with him. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Women around the world would have happily twerked on hot coals for a chance with Deandre; I had him, yet I was still walking around with feelings for a married man.
“Whatever you do, don’t break his heart.”
“Aren’t you concerned that he might do that to me?”
“Child, please. You’ve gotta open up your heart before it can be broken.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I know what love is, Mama.”
“I’m not saying you don’t know how to love. You love me and Cher-Cher and Li’l JJ and even that your wayward sister. No matter what foolishness LaNaya gets mixed up in, you’ve always loved her. You love being on TV. You love it when somebody walks up to you in public and asks for your autograph. You love walking into pricy, high-class restaurants without a reservation and still bein’ seated at the best table. You love getting dressed up and going to them fancy awards ceremonies. You love all of that! But when it comes to loving a man, that what’s-his-face did a number on you.”
I laughed. “Frank has nothing to do with—”
“You’re thirty-two years old, and you’re still dating, like some kinda college freshman.”
“Mama!”
“I’m not saying it’s gotta be this Deandre, even though he’d be a fine choice. But don’t you think it’s about time for a husband?”
“It’s not like I’m on a mission to stay single, Mama. I’d love to have a rock on my finger, and the tax write-off would be nice too. But Deandre hasn’t asked me to marry him. No man ever has. And please, for the love of God, don’t start shooting off analogies about cows and milk.”
Suddenly, we heard the side door swing open, and Li’l JJ and Cher-Cher walked into the kitchen, with Deandre a few steps behind them. I looked up at his wide grin and wondered how much of the conversation he’d overheard. I was so embarrassed that the pot slid out of my hands. As it fell into the soapy dishwater, little white suds splashed onto my face.
Li’l JJ and Cher-Cher pointed and giggled at me. Mama handed me a clean dishtowel. I thanked her as I patted my face dry. My body tingled. Up until that moment, Frank was the only man who had ever turned me into a klutz; I took that as a clear sign that I was really, truly falling for Deandre. My sun
dress smelled like Dawn dish soap, and my makeup was smudged, but none of that mattered. I looked over at my tall, dark, and handsome baller and flashed the smile of a woman in love.
CHAPTER 8
Deandre’s six-bedroom, four-bathroom house was situated on a tree-lined cul-de-sac in the suburb of Rochester Hills. It wasn’t the first time I had visited, but tonight was different, because I was redecorating the place in my mind. If this is gonna be my future home, the dark green walls in the living room gotta go, I thought. Hmm. Maybe a light, neutral color…and that oil painting of Tupac? No way. We need a Romare Bearden collage.
Although Deandre hadn’t popped the question yet, all signs point to us jumping the broom. He had been to three Sunday dinners in a row at Mama’s house, and we would be flying, first-class, to Atlanta together the following weekend. He’d even invited me to training camp to watch him work out. I sat in the bleachers, cheering him on, along with all the other basketball wives and girlfriends. Most of them were half a decade younger than me, with bodies sculpted by a plastic surgeon’s scalpel, but the passionate way Deandre kissed my lips at the end of practice made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the arena.
Now, I sat on the couch next to him as he popped open a bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass.
He handed one to me and said, “I’d like to make a toast…to the smartest, sexiest, most passionate woman I’ve ever known.”
I smiled as we clinked glasses. “Wow! You’re gonna give me a big head talking like that.”
“Reese’s, you’ve got everything a man needs. Plus, you make your own money. I’m always worried about gold-diggers, but I know that’s not something I have to worry about with you. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”
I blinked at him, wondering if I’d heard him right. Did he just say he loves me? I was so excited I could scream.
He stroked my face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you how I feel, Reese’s. Yes, I love you. It’s been so hard to keep it inside.”
Joyful tears filled my eyes. “Oh, Deandre! I love you too!”
He kissed me with so much emotion that my whole body trembled. Minutes later, we were naked in his king-sized bed. The satin sheets felt soft against my bare skin. Deandre was on top of me. He kissed my neck and fondled my nipples. I felt the tip of his dick press against my pussy, and I realized in that moment that it was the first time he’d tried anything without protection.
