by Jahquel J
“Damn, I appreciate this. I was hungrier than a hostage when I woke up.”
“A hostage? That’s funny,” the little boy smiled as he chewed his bacon.
“Aye, don’t you dare speak with your mouth full,” she scolded him and turned her back to wash the pots. I admired her ample backside real quick before I returned my gaze to the food she prepared.
“Sorry, Mama,” he whispered.
“So, does Mama have a name?” She turned around and smiled.
Wiping her hands off on the dish towel, she extended it to me. “I’m Golden. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that yesterday, it was just so much going on yesterday.”
“Golden… ah, it makes sense.”
“Why does it make sense?”
“The golden hues in your eyes,” I explained.
“Never thought about that. My mama named me Golden because I was her gold meal ticket with my father.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. This is Gyan,” she introduced her son.
“Hi, nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for letting us stay at your house. Will you kick us out too?”
“Gyan Aden!” she raised her voice. “Go place your plate in the sink and go wash your hands in the bathroom.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he apologized again.
“Nice to meet you, Gyan. I’m Yoshon.” I shook his sticky hand as he smiled.
“I like your name.”
“It’s okay. It’s not nothing special like Gyan is.”
“You think my name is cool?”
“I do.”
“Thank you,” he gasped and went to do what his mother demanded.
With her hand on her head, she stared down at the counter. “That boy is too much. I appreciate you letting us stay here last night. We’ll go get ready, so you can take me to my car.”
“Your car needs a new transmission. I had my man go out and get it last night.”
“Dammit. Piece of shit car,” she muttered to herself. “You can drop us off at a shelter or something. I’m sure you have lots to do today.”
“Stop worrying about me. You and your son is straight here. I’m in no rush for either of you to leave. You been up all night?”
“No,” she quickly lied. The bags and dark circles under her eyes were evidence that she hadn’t slept at all. Not to mention, she was slugging coffee like it was orange juice.
“You know the one thing I hate?”
“What?”
“A liar. I can look past pretty much everything in life, but a liar is one thing I can’t overlook or forget about.”
“Okay, maybe I didn’t sleep last night.”
“I could tell from all the used K cups you been using. Go get some sleep and Gyan is cool. You don’t know me, but know I would never hurt you or your son. Words are words, right? You got my gun and all the rest of my shit. I’m gonna finish this documentary on Netflix and drink some tea. You can go in the room and get some rest. My housekeeper is home today, so I’ll try and cook something.”
“Try and cook something?” she choked. “Let me take a hour nap and I’ll make some…” her voice trailed off as she looked through the fridge and freezer. “Chili!” She held up the ground turkey meat.
“I’m not gonna argue with that.”
“Me either! Can we watch a movie?” Gyan plopped down on the couch and stared at his mother.
“Your moms is tired. She needs to rest. Me and you can watch a movie.”
“Please. Don’t make him bully you into watching kid movies. Gyan, you need to come lay down with me.”
“Ma, he’s straight. Y’all have clothes in the car or something?” I noticed they were still in the clothes from yesterday.
“No. It’s at my friend’s house.”
“What size you wear?”
“No, you do—” I stopped sending out a message and gave her a look. “I wear a size ten in pants and a medium in shirts. He’s a size nine in boy’s clothing.”
“Shoes?”
“We hav— I’m a size five in women’s and he’s size five in kids.” She caught the hint and plopped down on the couch. I sent Grape a message and he told me he was on it.
“What are you, some black businessman? How can you afford all of this?”
“Smart investments.”
“I should of made smart investments. I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m in now,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry about all of that right now. Go get some rest and we’ll sort this out when you wake up.”
“You keep saying that. I’m awake.”
“Nah, you sat up all night and didn’t get any sleep. You look like a damn zombie.”
She messed with her hair and removed it out of her face. “I have to go and pick up my things from my friend. You really don’t need to do all of this; we can go to a shelter until I can get another car.”
“Ma, who you trying to impress? You were sleeping in your car in the middle of a blizzard. You don’t need to front for me. My grandmother raised me and my sister by herself; I know the strength of a single parent, especially a woman. Let me help you. Please.”
“It’s ju—”
“If not for yourself, let me do it for your son. You think he wants to be in a shelter when he can chill right here?”
She fought with herself as she played around with her hands. I could tell she didn’t want help and was independent. It was part of the reason that I wanted to help her. Who else would turn down help in the middle of a blizzard?
“Fine, can you take us to my friend’s house? I have to get all of our stuff before she gets petty and tosses it out.”
“Let me shower and I’ll bring you over there,” I told her and went to my bathroom. Shorty was feisty and I liked it. Not to mention, she was independent and determined to do shit on her own.
I had a soft spot when it came to single mothers. My mother was a single mother until she allowed my fuck boy of a father back into our lives. She worked and struggled to make sure we had everything we needed. Although she struggled, we never witnessed it. We just saw our mother coming through with everything we asked for. It didn’t always come on time, or when we wanted it, still it came, and she never let me or Yolani down. With Ms. Golden, I could tell she would never let Gyan down.
7
Hazel
Last night it was a blizzard, and I sat in my bed with my phone calling my wife the entire night. Yolani never showed up home, and she still hadn’t answered any of my calls. Pissed was an understatement. When I called Pit Pat, she thought it was Yolani, so I knew she wasn’t over there. Yolani had been my best friend and heart for years, yet she continued to break mine. Not too many people knew we were married and she liked to keep it like that. She told me she did that to protect me, but I wasn’t too sure. Yolani was known to keep women around when we were just friends. It was hard for me to believe that she just gave them all up for me. I didn’t doubt that she loved and cared for me, I did believe that she wasn’t ready to be married. Yolani wanted me and didn’t want to make the commitment. She wanted to just call me her girl and live with me, and that wasn’t how I was raised.
“Yeah?” I answered my business phone. It distracted me from the rage I felt about Yolani’s ass not bringing her ass home.
“Why you gotta answer the phone like that?” Denim laughed over the line. My heart skipped a beat when I heard his voice.
“Denim? How did you get my number?” I gasped and sat up in my bed. It was amazing how I was angry moments before, and now my mood had altered almost instantly.
“I mean, you changed your number when you got with ol’ girl… the only way I could let you know I’m back in town was from the number on your shop.”
“How do yo—”
“You know my mama was gonna put me on,” he cut me off and I laughed.
“So, how are you? How long are you back in town?” Each question spilled out the mouth as fast as the first one was asked.
“I’m back for
good. Just opened a sneaker store up in Harlem,” he informed me. “Found me a nice ass condo over in Bayridge, Brooklyn.”
My heart dropped when he said he was back in New York for good. “W…what made you leave Los Angeles?”
“The shop I opened there is doing good, and it was time to open one in my hometown, feel me?”
“Uh huh… so what’s up?”
“Meet me for dinner tonight.”
“Tonight? It’s snowing outside.”
“Snow ain’t never hurt nobody… I’m sending a car to come scoop you,” he told me and ended the call.
How did he know where I lived?
Denim was the one who got away. He was my ex-boyfriend and we dated for a few months before he moved to California. Denim wanted me to move with him and I declined. It was around the same time that Yolani had told me she loved me. How was I supposed to up and move with her revealing that to me? I couldn’t and that’s why I told Denim that I couldn’t move with him. He didn’t get mad or shit on me, he told me that he would always keep in contact with me, and he did. Except, now I was married to Yolani. I couldn’t just pick up where we left off when I had a wife.
“The fuck you clutching your phone to your chest for?” Yolani’s raspy voice made me jump out of my skin.
Putting my phone back on the nightstand, I recovered quickly. “My phone should be the least of your fucking worries. Where the fuck you been all night?”
“In my damn car. Shit was too damn deep and coming down too bad to keep driving. My phone died too, so you know I was bored as fuck.” Yolani messed with her hair when she lied. Right now, she was messing with the tip of one of her four braids.
“Why the fuck do you feel the need to lie to me? You weren’t in your car the entire night, Yolani, so why you lying?”
“I’m not doing this shit with you… I’m tired and got a crook in my neck. Why the fuck you wanna start some shit?”
Sucking my teeth, I went right into my closet and started looking for something for tonight. I wasn’t going to go with Denim tonight. I had planned to call him back and tell him that I couldn’t come, but with Yolani’s lying ass carrying her ass in here with a weak excuse, I planned to go out tonight.
“Where the fuck you going?”
“Don’t worry about it. You want to walk in here with some weak ass excuse, then I don’t need to tell you shit.”
In one quick movement, Yolani’s hands wrapped around my neck and pinned me to the wall. “Stop fucking playing with me, Hazel. You know what it is with these bitches. They want to fuck me, but I’m not rocking like that with them. Yeah, I was hanging out last night, but nothing happened.”
While she was busy explaining, I kneed her in the stomach and then punched her in the chest. “Put your hands on me again, bitch. I’m not one of your little hoes in the streets. I promise you, Yolani, the next time you place your hands on me, I’ll kill you!” I was breathing hard as I spit each word right behind the other.
“You got it,” was all she said as she left right out the bedroom. Following behind her, she left out the front door she had come in moments before.
“And don’t bring your yellow ass back either!” I hollered as I set the alarm and carried my ass back up to my bedroom.
Yolani had a temper, and when she was upset, she had a hand problem. She had placed her hands on me a total of two times, this being the third. Pit Pat had told her about placing her hands on me and she didn’t listen. Her anger problems were an issue and she refused to seek help for them. Being married to a woman in the streets was just as hard as being with a nigga in the streets. Sometimes I felt it was much easier being with a man than Yolani. She felt like she had so much to prove. Going into my bedroom, I made a beeline to my closet and pulled out so more cute clothes for tonight. After Yolani showed her ass this morning, I was going to take his offer and go out to dinner.
As women, we wanted to be cherished and treated the same as when we first got into the relationship. It didn’t matter if I was married to a man or a woman, the rules still applied. Me and Yolani never really went on dates because she was so busy. Her idea of a date was to go to one of our mutual friend’s party and have drinks together, come home and fuck and then she was right out the door. Sometimes I missed my friend and wanted to spend time with her. It was as if she didn’t care or want to come home. I questioned myself and asked myself if it was me? Was I the reason that she didn’t want to come home? Grabbing a red body-con dress, I pulled out a pair of gold heels and the matching clutch. Denim was perfect, and we could have had something. I didn’t doubt that I wouldn’t be married and in love if I was with Denim. He was a different breed of man.
While other men were scared of commitment, he ran right into it. He wanted someone he could spend the rest of his life with, and I was that woman for him. It was only a few months we had been dating, but he told me that. Then, I had Yolani confessing her entire love to me, so how could I ignore that? If you knew Yolani, you knew that she was far from the type to confess her feelings. I wouldn’t have left Denim for Yolani if I didn’t feel the same for her. We’ve been friends for years and my feelings developed way past our friendship. Did I give up years of friendship to be with a nigga I’ve been dealing with for a few months? No, I didn’t, and now I was sitting here picking out an outfit to go and have dinner with the same nigga. It was funny how life worked out for me.
The doorman to the hotel held open the town car’s door for me as I stepped out. I sauntered into the entrance of The Plaza. Being married to Yolani, I had never been to anything like this. We’ve been on vacations and stayed in some of the nicest hotels, yet when it came to being home, we never did nice dinners like this. Denim stood there in the front dressed in a pair of jeans, Balmain loafers, and a velvet blazer. His dark chocolate skin was like a ray of sunshine under the center crystal chandelier. Denim’s smile was as big as the Verrazano bridge when he laid eyes on me. His teeth were just like I remembered. White and perfectly shaped. Then, his eyes. Man, his light brown eyes were so beautiful. I remembered staring into eyes as I listened to his dreams. The eyes were the window to the soul, and just by glancing in them I could tell he was a good man that wanted to do right by me. In his eyes, I could also see that he had seen and witnessed some things that made him, him.
Denim stood around 6’4 with a solid build. He didn’t have gym rat body, but he didn’t have a stomach that hung over his belt. His body was just what it was; solid. My tongue had a mind of its own as it slid out my mouth and then ran over the top of my front teeth. Just staring at his beard had me wanting to sit on his face while he licked me to ecstasy and back. Rubbing his hands, he made his way over to me and smirked when he got near.
“I’m surprised you came. Then again, I already knew you would.” He bent down and pecked me on the cheek.
Sliding his hand on the small of my back, he guided me to a restaurant inside the hotel. It was called The Rose Room. When we stepped inside, you definitely paid for the ambiance the place held. There was a long velvet couch with individual tables and chairs. The armchairs were velvet and in the color champagne. The wooden walls and curtains made me feel like I was a celebrity. Denim pulled the armchair out and I sat down. He pushed me back in and made his way around the table to the velvet couch. Crossing my legs, I stared him down and admired what time had done to him. He was handsome when he left, yet time did something extra that I couldn’t place my fingers on.
“This is real extra… especially for you.”
“You live in Beverly Hills for three years; you get accustomed to the finer things in life.” He waved over a waiter.
“Bring me your best cognac,” he ordered. “And she’ll d—”
“I’ll do the shotgun wedding,” I called out the drink that caught my eye on the thin menu. The waiter scurried off to put in our drink orders and Denim smirked my way.
“So, was it a shotgun wedding? I would ask if you were pregnant, but you know…” his voice drifted off and
I giggled.
“You’re an asshole, you know that? It sounded good, that’s all.”
“I bet.” He licked his juicy and pink lips. “How you been, Hazel?”
“I’ve been… good,” I uncrossed my legs and crossed them with my right leg. “How about you?”
“Nah, how have you really been? Don’t feed me no bullshit because you think that’s what I want to hear.” He was straightforward, like he’d always had been. Denim was never the one to beat around the bush.
“Marriage is tough. We’re working on things and trying to be the best we can for each other.” What else did he want me to say? Did he want me to say that I was so unhappy that I wanted to scream? Or that my wife felt the need to run instead of talking things out?
“Ma, marriage shouldn’t be tough yet. What is shorty doing?”
“Nothing.”
How did he expect me to spill my issues onto this fine marble table? My wife was more than likely cheating on me and I didn’t know what to do. My shop was doing amazing and from the outside, it seemed like I had the perfect life. I would say marriage, but only a handful of people knew we were actually married.
“Haze,” he said my name with this sexy ass grin on his lips.
“Denim…” I repeated. “Tell me about you. What’s been going on with you?” It was time to switch gears on his ass. For all I knew, he had a wife and a kid somewhere, and I was over here daydreaming about sitting on his face.
“I had a daughter a few months ago. Me and her moms were together for a year, but called it quits when she was six months pregnant.”
“You broke up with her while she was pregnant?” I gasped.
“Nah, she ended things with me. I guess I knew it was coming but didn’t expect her to do the shit while she was pregnant with my seed.”
“Wow. Do you both have a good co-parenting relationship?”
“Oh yeah, the best one,” he accepted the drink from the waiter. “She knows I would do any and everything for my daughter.”
