Lover Man

by Geneva Holliday

  “C’mon now, Javid, you can’t sleep your life away.”

  Javid flipped over, giving her his back.

  Crystal sighed. Most days she didn’t mind the wake-up game they played every morning. But today, she thought as she glanced at the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall, she just had too much to do.

  “Hey, little man, this day determines whether or not Mommy will be able to afford your college tuition in sixteen years, ’cause we know your daddy won’t be able to—”

  Crystal slapped her hands over her mouth. Where had that come from? She walked to the corner of the room. Had Javid heard that awful remark?

  He was a smart boy; he might not completely understand what he heard, but he’d know it wasn’t a good thing by her tone.

  Crystal pressed her hands tighter to her mouth. No matter how angry Javid’s father, Neville, made her (which wasn’t often), she never spoke badly about him around Javid. So this slip, which came seemingly from nowhere, went totally against the ideals she’d put in place.

  Crystal walked out into the hallway. The air in the bedroom had suddenly become stifling.

  “Stop fooling yourself, Crystal, you know where the hell it came from,” she whispered to the walls. “It came from the fact that you know that Neville will never take you as his wife. Not in the traditional sense. His words, not mine.” Crystal’s voice rose and she moved down the hall and into her bedroom.

  “You agreed to the arrangement. He didn’t force you to have the baby, to move to the island. That was all your idea.

  “You knew he was a gigolo and that you would have to share him with dozens of women. Hundreds of women! And now the thought of him touching you makes you sick to your stomach!”

  Again, Crystal found her hands over her mouth. She moved to the dresser and her reflection glared at her from the mirror.

  “Thought you could handle it. But you can’t. Two years you’ve been smiling and grinning through how many weddings?”

  Crystal didn’t know.

  “You so want to be a bride, to be a wife, to be someone’s one and only.” Crystal’s subconscious pecked at her.

  “Neville can’t … won’t give you that one real thing you need.”

  Crystal dropped down to the bed. Her eyes brimmed with tears. The mirror never lied. And these personal conversations, as ill as they sometimes made her feel, were probably the best mental-health exercise she had.

  She’d been quasi-happy for a while now. The only reason she was still in Antigua was that she knew it would be traumatic for both Javid and Neville if she separated them.

  But kids are resilient, and what of her happiness? What of her heart?

  “Mommy.” Javid’s sleepy voice shattered her reverie. Crystal wiped at her eyes, fixed her face with a sunny expression, and then turned to greet her son.

  5

  Geneva’s arms were folded stiffly across her breasts as the realtor led her through the expansive space of the duplex. It was beautiful, and with every room she entered Geneva fell more in love with it.

  She refused to make eye contact with Deeka, who watched her from the corner of his eye.

  “As you can see,” said the realtor, Gloria, a short, dark woman sporting a salt-and-pepper fade, “the owners were impeccable when it came to maintaining the home. All of the moldings are original, not that fake Home Depot stuff, and,” she said as she raised her fist and knocked confidentially on the wall, “these walls are plaster and concrete, not like that cheap Sheetrock stuff these builders are working with today.”

  Deeka smiled.

  Geneva didn’t know the difference. A wall was a wall, wasn’t it?

  Geneva felt like she was walking through the pages of Metropolitan Home.

  “And now,” Gloria announced as she finished pointing out the particulars of the granite-countered kitchen, “the garden.” And with that she pulled open a simple wooden door that led to the most beautiful backyard Geneva had ever seen.

  The expanse of the yard had been fitted with salmon-colored stone pavers and was enclosed by a mahogany fence. In one corner of the yard was a Jacuzzi, in the other a fish pond.

  There wasn’t an inch of grass, but it wasn’t missed; the exotic potted plants more than made up for it.

  Geneva felt herself begin to melt. She’d always wanted a backyard.

  Deeka and the realtor saw the sparkle that suddenly appeared in Geneva’s eyes.

  “Yes,” Gloria proudly announced. “There aren’t many backyard gardens like this in Bedford-Stuyvesant.”

  They walked into their apartment about an hour before Geneva’s seven-year-old daughter, Charlie, arrived home from school.

  There hadn’t been an ounce of conversation between them. Geneva said she needed to think, and think hard, about this purchase and the potential move to Brooklyn. She’d lived her entire life in Manhattan; she didn’t know a damn thing about Brooklyn except what she’d seen on the nightly news and the crude playground songs she and her friends used to sing about the borough.

  “Aw, c’mon, Geneva,” Deeka had cried in frustration, “you’re being childish!”

  “Am I?”

  Geneva had only been to the borough a handful of times, and that was to visit her childhood friend Noah. Now Noah didn’t live there anymore, so really, what was the sense?

  “You would have the same complaint if I suggested Westchester,” Deeka accused.

  “No, I wouldn’t have the same complaint,” Geneva sneered, “I’d have a different one.”

  Deeka tossed his arms up in frustration.

  “Just leave me alone and let me think, Deeka. Can you do that?” Deeka had obliged, retreating to the bedroom and leaving Geneva to her thoughts in the darkened living room.

  “Hi, Mom,” Charlie said as she came bursting through the door, coming to rest on the couch beside Geneva.

  Deeka came out of the bedroom and leaned against the molding of the doorway. “Hey, baby girl,” he greeted her.

  “Hey, Deeka.” Charlie grinned and then the sunny smile fell from her face. She suddenly realized that she’d walked into something. The apartment was somber, the drapes drawn. Usually Geneva was preparing dinner, the radio volume on high, filling the apartment with the voice of the famous radio personality Wendy Williams cackling about some celebrities’ misfortune.

  But not today. Today the apartment felt like a funeral home. Charlie almost asked, “Who died?” but instead she said, “What’s up?”

  “Geneva?” Deeka was waiting for Geneva to make a decision. The realtor had advised that there were three other couples interested in the property, all of whom would be putting in their offers today.

  “Geneva?” Deeka pressed.

  “Mom?” Charlie was getting scared now.

  Geneva sighed. She was the queen of procrastination. In the past she’d missed opportunities with the time she took overthinking them. She looked up at her husband, this young man who always moved heaven and earth to please her; how could she deny him this, when he’d given her everything in his power?

  Now, looking down into the face of her daughter, it occurred to her that she was the third-generation project girl—not that it had been a bad place for her or the family before her; in fact, it had served them well—but now she guessed it was time for a change.

  She gave Charlie’s ponytail a playful tug. “Well, baby girl, it looks like we’re going to be moving.”

  “Yeah!” Deeka screamed, slapping his hands together and rushing over to them.

  “Really, Mommy?” Charlie questioned with a bright smile. “Where?”

  “Brooklyn,” Deeka announced excitedly as he scooped Charlie up and swung her around the room.

  6

  Karma wanted to wait until she was settled before she began calling her people to let them know she was back in town.

  Not that she had a long list of people to call. Before she became Karma Jackson she’d been Mildred Johnson. Mildred Johnson didn’t have but two friends and one of tho
se friends she’d cut off before fleeing the country and becoming the dashing beauty she was now.

  Seneca, her oldest and only friend for many years, was still living in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn. She knew this because the information age had made it difficult for people to hide. And besides, Seneca had a MySpace and a Yahoo 360° page where she not only blogged about her day-to-day experiences, but provided her cell phone number where men could be sure to contact her if they were looking for a good time.

  Geneva, a newer friend, was the only person Karma had remained in constant contact with since leaving the country, and not even she knew that Karma had been back in the country for three months.

  It was hard, hitting the job market again after so much time off. Karma had grown used to going to sleep when she felt like it and waking up when she felt like it. It wasn’t going to be easy to live by some corporation’s schedule. Even though she had a good amount of money in an offshore bank account in the Cayman Islands, she knew it wouldn’t last forever, and besides, she needed to get out in the world and down to the business of finding a husband.

  How hard could it be, she asked herself, especially since she now had all of the requirements. Karma had always been smart and well read. Now she was well traveled and gorgeous and, to top it off, a firecracker in bed. Shit, she’d seen the Superhead video and realized that that Karrine girl didn’t have a thing on her!

  Karma knew that SHE was the entire package, the kit’n’kaboodle and the be-all and end-all!

  On her arrival back in the country she had had no place to go and so was forced to stay at a hotel. Of course she could have chosen a less expensive property, but she’d grown used to extravagance and so booked a two-week stay at the Pierre Hotel.

  Karma spent an entire day in Saks Fifth Avenue, shopping for new corporate attire. In the end, she’d dropped a cool ten thousand dollars. A drop in the bucket for Karma.

  She made an appointment with a head hunter, explaining that she had been a personal assistant to a very famous politician (namely, the one she was screwing when Sergio was away) and that she had no doubt that he would give her a glowing recommendation—which of course he did.

  Within a week, she had a position with Lieberman and Lieberman, a company that handled hedge fund accounts. Her office skills were magnificent, but she knew that her good looks, sex appeal, and bubbly personality had played a large part in her getting the job as well.

  Karma did little more than sit at her desk and look pretty, which she could stomach for 100K a year and quarterly bonuses that nearly added up to another 100K.

  The apartment she found was a converted carriage house on St. Felix Street in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn. It was a sunny, spacious one bedroom and just three blocks from the train station and the bustling Fulton Street shopping area.

  After Ethan Allen delivered the last piece of furniture, an oversize cushy brocade sofa, Karma felt like she was ready to let Geneva and Seneca know she was back.

  Reaching for her cell phone, she took a deep breath and dialed the first number.

  7

  “Hey, Geneva girl, how are you?”

  Geneva pressed the phone closer to her ear. She was having a hard time hearing her friend Noah. “I can hardly hear you. Hello? Hello?”

  “Yes, I’m still here, but the connection is horrible. Maybe you should hang up and call back.”

  “Maybe you should just use the teleconference camera on the computer,” Deeka slung at her as he wrapped two bowls in newspaper and set them in the box. “Our long-distance bill is out of hand.”

  Geneva shot him an annoyed look before returning to her conversation. “Noah?”

  “Yes, Geneva, I’m still here.”

  “So I just wanted you to know that Deeka and I have bought a place in your old neighborhood.”

  Geneva had superstitious ways and so had held off telling her friends anything about the duplex until she and Deeka had closed and had keys in hand.

  Noah laughed. “This connection must be worse that I thought ’cause I thought I heard you say you bought a place in my old neighborhood.”

  “I did. We bought a duplex!”

  The line was silent for a moment.

  “You mean my old neighborhood St. Albans, Queens, where I lived with my mother until I came out of the closet, right?”

  Noah had just skipped over the fact that Geneva was now a homeowner. That was so like him!

  “No, silly,” Geneva quipped. “I mean Brooklyn.”

  Again silence.

  “Noah?”

  “Zahn, listen to this mess here, Geneva is moving to Brooklyn!” Noah screeched to his lover. “Girl, I never thought I’d see the day.” He laughed. “Deeka must have slapped you good and hard with his dick! Am I right or am I—”

  “Shut up, Noah. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

  Noah ignored Geneva. He was on a roll now. “You see, that’s the way the universe works, girl. You said you’d never, ever … everevereverever … move to Brooklyn, and I said I’d never sleep with a woman and look what happened—”

  “I said,” Geneva said between clenched teeth, “shut up, Noah.”

  “I’m just saying, never say never,” he laughed. “I’ll be there in a few weeks, so I can rub your face in it all live and in person like—”

  Beep.

  Saved by call waiting, Geneva thought to herself as she happily announced that she had another call and quickly switched over without a goodbye.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ms. Married Lady!”

  “Hey yourself, Ms. Island Girl!” Geneva screamed. She and Crystal had been playing phone tag for two months straight.

  “How you been?”

  “Well, good and something else.”

  “What? Ohhh, girl, you pregnant?” Crystal squealed.

  “No, and please don’t say that too loud. Deeka’s been harassing me for a baby, but I’m just not ready.”

  “Well, girl, you know you ain’t getting any younger and—”

  “And what? You’re older than me—”

  “And I was going to say that you did marry a younger man. A much, much younger man.”

  What was it, pick on Geneva day?

  “I don’t need you to remind me of the fact that I married a much, much younger man, my cunt reminds me every day. In fact, she thanks me!”

  The two fell out in laughter.

  “Gurrrl, you still got a mouth on you, huh?”

  “Like that’s going to change,” Geneva said, still laughing.

  “So tell me what your surprise is, this call is costing me a fortune.”

  “We bought a duplex!”

  “Get the hell out of here! No, seriously?”

  “Yep!”

  “Where?”

  “Brooklyn.”

  Again the silence.

  “What Deeka do, slap you with his dick—”

  Geneva cringed. “That’s the same thing Noah said. Where the hell did you two get that nonsense from anyway?”

  “From you. Who else would we have gotten it from? Or maybe you don’t remember when you first started screwing him and you were floating on cloud nine, you said, and I’m not even paraphrasing here, that that man can get me to do anything as long as he’s got that long, dark, thick dick. Shit, he could even slap me with it and I won’t even get mad!”

  “You ain’t lying!” Geneva screamed into the phone, and the two broke down laughing again.

  “Geneva, seriously though, I’m so happy for you!”

  “Thank you, girl, but I’m so nervous.”

  “Yeah, I remember when I bought my place, I was scared to death, but you know it worked out. It always does.”

  8

  Geneva was trying not to be upset. She hated to get vexed with Deeka before he got on a plane, but this wasn’t at all what she was expecting. He had said that he and the band he managed would be local for at least six months and here they were, barely in the apartment for two week
s, and he’d just announced over dinner that he would be leaving for Europe in three days.

  “We still got boxes that need unpacking,” Geneva reminded him.

  Her son, Tony, was visiting. Tony was the band’s drummer, and it was because of him and the band that she and Deeka got together in the first place. Now she gave her son the evil eye.

  “Now, Mom,” Tony started, raising his hands in defense. “Every time we go on the road, you blame me.” He laughed.

  Geneva pointed her fork at him. “It’s all your fault,” she accused in a humorous tone. “If you hadn’t brought this man to my home—”

  “Stop, ’Neva,” Deeka said, snatching the fork from her hand. “You forget I was already clocking you at the diner.”

  Geneva blushed.

  “We were destined to be together,” he added, taking her hand in his and bending to kiss it.

  “Awwwwww,” Charlie and Tony wailed together.

  “Hush up,” Geneva scolded. “You’ll fall in love one day and then you’ll see,” she said, wagging her finger at Charlie.

  “Hey, hey, what about me?”

  Geneva looked at her tall, gorgeous son and shook her head in dismay. He’d been in and out of three relationships in the past year and a half. “You, my child, have to learn the difference between lust and love first.”

  Tony dropped his eyes in mock shame.

  Charlie’s eyebrows cinched. “What’s lust, Mommy?”

  Later that night after Tony had gone back to his studio apartment in Manhattan and Charlie was tucked safely away in her new pink and white canopy bed, Geneva and Deeka cuddled.

  “I hate it when you travel. I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you too, baby,” he said, pulling her closer to him. Geneva could feel his stiff member through the thin material of her nightgown.

  Geneva kissed him again. The heat between them never seemed to dwindle. She felt herself go moist. Another kiss and their tongues intertwined. Deeka freed his penis from the confines of his blue and black plaid boxers and Geneva enclosed it in her hands.