Spreading his butt cheeks, I inhaled. There was a light stench. I shook my head. “Babe, you need to shower first, if you want me to do that.”
“Go get a towel.”
“Let’s do it next time,” I said, not feeling him on this one.
“Now, Loretta,” he demanded. “And hurry before my dick goes down.”
I went to his bathroom. Soaking a towel with hot water, I smeared soap on it. Got a second towel to get the soap off. Returning to the bedroom, Chaz was on his stomach. I separated his butt cheeks, wiped him good with the soapy towel. I covered my pointing finger and pushed it inside.
“Damn, Loretta. What the fuck you doing?”
“Sorry.” I wiped him a few more times without probing.
He rolled over and placed his feet flat against the mattress; then he tilted up his ass. Yeah, some bitch had done this to him. I could do it too, or leave.
I slowly started licking in an upward motion. I kissed his opening, but I didn’t stick my tongue in.
“Baby, that feels incredible. Now stroke my dick, but don’t stop licking my ass.”
I sighed heavily and did as he desired.
“Suck my dick. Then slide your tongue down to my balls and lick my asshole again, then take it from the top.”
I stopped. “I don’t know where you got this, but I’m done.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I got carried away. Bring your sweet pussy up here to my face and straddle me from this end.”
Now I didn’t mind doing that. Sixty-nine was much better. I buried my knees beside his ears, then lowered my clit to his lips. He held his dick, waved it, until I slipped the head in my mouth.
Chaz started thrusting himself in and out of my mouth as though he was inside my pussy.
“Damn, that feels so fuckin’ good,” he moaned. “Your mouth is amazing.”
I lowered my pussy until I felt his lips against me, but the only movement was from my gyrating. Giving up on having him pleasure me, I stroked and sucked his dick fast and hard until . . .
He screamed, “Yes, Madison!”
I stopped. Got out of bed and stared down at him. “What did you say?”
“Babe, what the fuck! You don’t leave your man hanging like that.”
I picked up a towel and smacked him right across his stomach. “What the fuck did you say?” I asked him again.
“‘Yes, Madison.’ Why? What’s wrong with that? I was fantasizing about her in my head. She’s not in my bed. You are.”
“You’ve changed since you took over for Chicago. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“My bad,” he said. “After seeing that videotape of Madison fucking Granville, while she was engaged to my brother, I thought you guys were into the infidelity thing.”
Chaz got out of bed, bypassed me, and went to the bathroom. I followed him.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Look, Loretta, I’m not a sucker like Chicago. You play games with me—you get played. Maybe you should’ve been the one bold enough to scream Chicago’s name, since you were riding my brother’s dick so hard. Admit it, you hate Madison. You want Chicago. You think I’m stupid?”
I started shaking my head, when I should’ve been nodding. I cried out, “That’s not true!”
“Loretta, I’m done with your so-called Christian ass. Get out of my house. And don’t come back,” Chaz said, tossing me my clothes.
I was not getting physically thrown out. Putting on my jeans and jersey, I wondered, What does all of this mean?
Was my relationship with Chaz really over? Should I get my daughter and go back to being an overwhelmed single parent? Or let Madison defeat me from her hospital bed? Even if it was only in his head, Madison fucking Chaz was unacceptable.
I hadn’t seen Madison since her surgery, but it was time for me to pay her a visit.
CHAPTER 24
Madison
My breasts were gone, and so was the cancer.
Staring into the handheld mirror Chicago had given me, I was as flat-chested as the baby inside my stomach. I’d done the right thing. My baby was safe.
I slid my hand over my hair. Since I wasn’t having chemo, I didn’t have to worry about losing my hair.
“Mama, I can’t wait to get to the salon.”
Ladies didn’t wrap scarves around their head. They slept on satin pillows. Men loved to feel real hair, regardless of the length. A touch-up wasn’t necessary, but a shampoo, condition, and style were. I looked into my eyes; then I placed the mirror on the stand next to my bed.
My mother sat in the chair staring at me.
The team of doctors closely monitored my post-op recovery and my baby’s health. Too sore to wear any clothes, I wished I could remove these bandages and just let the stitches show while I was in my room.
“Mama, please go home. You don’t have to sit here, not saying anything. Go get some rest. Roosevelt will be here shortly. Whenever they release me, I’m going to need you to take care of me during the day while he’s at work.”
My mother started brushing my hair. I thanked God many times for her. Some people had mothers who didn’t care, mothers who gave them away, or mothers who had passed away. Mine was alive, and she was by my side, caring for me.
My dad was another story. He was on his way. He was always on his way. Sometimes he actually got here. I’d become accustomed to his lying. Did my mom have to deal with his false promises too? Whenever he did arrive, he had to knock first, then wait for me to say it was okay for him to come in. That was the requirement for everyone, except Roosevelt and my mom.
“Baby, you were right. If I had told you years ago that breast cancer ran in our family, maybe I could’ve spared you. I’m so sorry.”
Not this again. I didn’t want her to brush that negativity into my head. I raised my hand. “Enough, Mama. What’s done is done. I’m good. And your grandbaby is healthy.”
I wanted to say, “I’m sick and tired of hearing it!”
A knock welcomingly interrupted our alone time.
“It’s Papa, sweetheart.”
I exhaled, wondering what scheme he’d concocted with Roosevelt. I trusted my husband, but my dad was one of those men always looking for a way to get over—even when he didn’t have to. I’d find out the details later.
“Just a minute,” I said as Mama raised the covers to my neck.
“You can come in now, Johnny,” Mama said.
“There’s my sweetheart.” He kissed me. Then he pressed his lips next to Mama’s and handed me a huge bouquet of white roses. “Madison, Chicago is heaven-sent. I spoke with him and I’m meeting with him when I leave here. Everything is going to be okay. You’ll have your house back. Your car back. Your rings. Everything! And we’ll have our business running smoothly in no time.”
Instantly my stomach ached with nausea. My rings? My car? “What else did you steal from me, Papa?”
“I know, sweetheart. Don’t look at it as stealing. You’ve been made whole. So I borrowed from you to save our company and it worked. It worked! Here’s your real power of attorney. You can legally terminate it. I don’t need it anymore.” Papa twirled Mama around, then kissed her, long and hard.
Mama said, “Johnny, what’s gotten into you? What foolishness are you talking about?”
I stared at the last page of the document. “I don’t know what you did, Papa, but this isn’t real. This is fraudulent. I did not witness this before a notary.”
I’d heard every word. If it weren’t for Roosevelt, my baby and I would’ve been stripped of all my possessions. I wasn’t well enough to deal with my father, but he had it coming. I was not going to have mercy on him. Loretta was a bitch. My father, he was a straight dog. Their day was coming.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Rosalee. I’ve got it all taken care of. I’ll give you guys the details tomorrow. Bye, sweetheart,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.
“Johnny, wait,” Mama said, following him to my door.
She paused. “Madison, I’ll be back. I’m going to get something to eat. You want me to bring you anything?”
“Go home, Mama! I’m fine.” Slowly I got out of bed and placed the flowers on top of the food tray. I didn’t have much of an appetite since the surgery. I’d lost fifteen pounds. That was a lot for me. One meal and two snacks were more than I desired to digest, but that was all I’d eaten yesterday.
The door opened a few minutes later. “Mama, what did you for—”
“Hello, Madison.”
I recognized the voice but couldn’t see her face.
“How did you get in here? You need to leave.” I sat on my bed, close to the alert remote, then emphatically said, “Now.”
Loretta removed the hood covering her head, grinned, then blocked the door with the food tray stand. Her eyes were glossy and dark. “Hello, baby, sweetheart, can-do-no-wrong Madison. I like your roses.” She picked them up, sniffed. “Nice. But the color is wrong for you.”
Quick as I could, I reached to page for help. Loretta slammed the flowers on the tray then rushed toward me. Slapped the device from my hand.
“When we were kids, I thought you were cute. When we all turned thirteen, I looked up to you. When we went off to college, I knew I was the smartest of us all, but you would always say something to make me feel stupid. After we graduated, I watched you get nine engagement rings to my zero. But I get it now. You surround yourself with girlfriends who can never outshine you. One day you’re going to come face-to-face with a bitch who looks better than you, and then what are you going to do? You don’t have to put Tisha and me down so you can stand out. Yes, I’m jealous. Yes, I’m in love with your husband. But I’ve never put my hands on you. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t beat your ass. Just one,” she said.
My body was too weak to fight back. I wished I had the strength to pick up the mirror and slap her with it or raise my foot and kick her. “What are you trying to prove? I can’t control your lack of self-esteem. I won’t ever be the woman you want me to be. Face it, you hate me because you hate yourself.”
The back of her hand landed across my face. She snatched the pillow; then she covered my face. I couldn’t breathe.
“Admit it. You don’t think I can keep a man.”
Why did it matter to her what I thought? If she uncovered my face, I’d tell her the truth. She couldn’t. I scrambled to grab her hair. It was in a tight bun.
“You don’t think I was dumb enough to let you get me twice,” she said, briefly uncovering my face.
I gasped. She slammed the pillow into my face again.
“Chicago won’t be able to bail you out of this, and no one will ever believe I did this.”
Did what?
Loretta lifted the pillow. Her fist was raised in front of my face. My cheek was burning from the prior slap. My eyes widened in disbelief.
Heaving, I struggled to breathe. “You . . . wouldn’t”—I choked on air—“dare. You’re a pathetic bitch, who wished you were me. You could never be me.”
Wham! Her fist landed in my left eye.
I screamed, but it was so faint that I barely heard it myself.
Loretta laughed. “Next time you decide to open your legs, make sure it’s not for my man. I don’t want to be like you, you tramp.”
Tossing the pillow on my head, she unblocked the door and left.
CHAPTER 25
Johnny
Some consider me cocky. I say I’m confident. I was a black cat with ninety-nine lives, and I’d only used two.
One was lying to my wife by not telling her I was cheating on her again. If I got this big financial break, I should come clean. The other horrible thing I’d done was not being there for my daughter. After today both would be different.
Right now, nothing—not even getting my dick sucked—was going to prevent me from showing up for this face-to-face that was about to change my situations for the best. A few more blow jobs were understandable, if I was going back to being faithful. The thought of having mediocre sex, twice a month . . . aw, hell no. I might have to hang in there with my PA until I got caught.
When things were great, people overlooked the bad. That was how it should be. If I gave them what they wanted, why shouldn’t Johnny do what made Johnny happy? That’s what I needed all three of my girls to do. Love me for who I am. A provider.
I was glad Rosalee wasn’t a nagger, like some of my frat brothers’ wives, or I would’ve divorced her years ago. I hate naggers. They’re miserable. They want their man to be miserable. And they don’t add value to the relationship. All that damn fussing and when they wake up the next day they still have the same damn problems.
Dark clouds spread across the sunless sky. Daylight looked like midnight. The crackling of thunder followed streaks of lightning. The downpour created a flash flood, which was inches from overflowing into my Porsche.
I drove up to the valet and handed the guy the keys to my car. Stepping onto the sidewalk, my gator ankle boots and the hem of my pants were submerged in water. During the short distance from the stand to the door, the attendant held an umbrella over my head. My hair was dry. My feet were soaked. Nothing was going to ruin my day.
I’d arrived at Eddie V’s, at West Avenue on Kirby, near opening time at four. Dinner started at five. My guest should arrive in a half hour.
Look the way you want to be and eventually you’d be the way you looked. The same held true for the way one would act. I used to be comfortably rich: plane, luxury cars, traveled the world for business and pleasure. Not necessarily in that order. Had my dick sucked by beautiful women in every country I visited. Look at Johnny now. With the exception of my wife, I was struggling to maintain all that I owned.
It was time to be a jet-setter again, baby! I felt so damn good about this meeting—I had the swag back in my step. I busted a James Brown move and spun around. I didn’t care who saw me. I did it again. Pretended I had a cape on my shoulders, then simulated tossing it off.
I’d worn my best designer suit, a Rolex watch, a platinum tie clip, a diamond ring, and my $10,000 cuff links. I hung the price of a house on my fine physique.
Hopefully, Chicago wouldn’t cancel due to the storm. He was one special guy. I didn’t understand why he was extremely loyal to Madison after what she’d done to him. Damn. She’d better not have told him it was my idea to take him off the respirator. Just in case I had prepared a response to deny any involvement.
“Not my style. Not my place. Madison is your wife and she makes her own decisions. You should know that.” Naw, I’d better change that last sentence. “We both know that.” Yeah, that is less offensive.
The tone and structure of a few words could make the difference in getting what you wanted, or blowing a deal.
Waiting for Chicago to arrive, I went to the restroom, emptied my bladder, dried my boots, then washed my hands under the free-flowing unisex fountain. This was the oddest arrangement I’d seen. Once you were inside, there were designated sides for the men and women but no separation of access to the private stalls. The women used the same water to cleanse their hands; and if one wasn’t aware, you couldn’t see but could accidentally touch the fingers of a stranger. I wasn’t sure who thought that was a good idea, but it made me a little uncomfortable. I put my hands under the blower for a few seconds, rubbed them together, left the restroom, and then scanned the dining room for Chicago. I didn’t see him. I checked my cell. I didn’t have any missed calls.
The restaurant was quiet. The after-work crowd hadn’t started to pack the place. One couple was seated at the bar, another at a highboy in front of the grand piano, where a band would soon perform.
“Hey, Johnny. Good to see you.”
The general manager had become a friend. His artistic love was modeling. He had that Hollywood flair. Blond hair. Blue eyes. The right amount of facial hair gave him that smooth, edgy look that made women wet. He was definitely in shape. Young. One day I expected to channel surf and see him in a co
mmercial or a movie.
I had skills, but I hadn’t tapped into my talents. If I had, instead of getting married I would’ve explored my desire to become an adult entertainer. Quiet as it may be, Houston had more strip clubs than Atlanta. If this deal with Chicago didn’t prove lucrative, maybe I should stay on the business side, sell my construction company, and invest in a members’ only joint for successful men over sixty with dancers under thirty. Afterall, strip clubs was a billion-dollar industry and I was not going to die broke.
“Hey, Drew. I’m glad you’re here. Look, man, I have an important meeting today with Chicago DuBois.” I stood tall, adding a little bass to my voice so I spoke with authority. “We’re going to need a table that’s private and away from all of the patrons who might come in later. And we have to be away from the band, so we don’t have to talk too loud.”
Normally, I’d make a reservation, but I was a regular and always received stellar service. Plus, with the bad weather I doubted many guests would come through.
Drew smiled. “Not a problem, Mr. Tyler. It’ll be great to see Chicago. Haven’t seen him since the accident,” he said, leading the way.
The secluded location in the corner, near the ceiling-to-floor custom-built wine rack, was where I was seated. “This is perfect.”
“I’ll bring Mr. DuBois over as soon as he arrives. Your usual?” he asked.
“Not today. Send over a bottle of your finest scotch,” I insisted. “This promises to be a celebration.”
“You got it,” Drew said, walking away.
There were no subpar items on their menu. The crab cakes and lobster tacos were my favorite appetizers, but I’d wait to order until my potential business partner arrived. My cell phone buzzed. I removed it from my pocket.
“Hey, sweetheart, I’m here waiting on Chicago. How are you?”
My daughter cried into the phone, “Papa, you’re not going to believe what happened! I’ve been calling Roosevelt, but he hasn’t answered his phone. When he gets there, tell him I need him to come to the hospital right away.” She was crying.
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