by Rochelle Alers, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Brenda L. Thomas; Crystal Lacey Winslow
“Wait, Nicoli, we came for a reason. There’s this new hot spot up in Harlem that we need to be in. Could we please, please, please borrow somethin’ to wear from out your closet? We promise to keep it neat and return it as soon as possible,” Stacy begged.
“You two can take whatever you want from out of my closet. Help yourselves. Just promise me you’ll be safe.”
“We promise,” they both said in unison.
Eventually they gave me hugs and left.
I can truly say that the summer of 2003 was ‘the best of times and the worst of times.’ But it was an enlightening time that taught me a valuable lesson. I used to believe that outside appearance was everything. And that you could find true love at the bottom of someone’s wallet. Now I know that just because you’ve known someone all your life, that doesn’t mean that you really know that person. Joy’s betrayal has taught me that I should value and cherish my friends and treat them with love and respect, if I want that in return. In my immature phase, all I really wanted to do was have a good time, at anyone’s expense. When I think about the person I used to be, I become so sad. I disrespected my mother, humiliated my friends, and didn’t respect my own body. I think about that chapter of my life as a haunting dream that I needed to open my eyes from.
Big L’s bitterness used to haunt me like the kindred spirit of my grandmother. My grandmother was a mean-spirited person, and I fight every day not to end up like her. If it were not for the devotion my mother showed me in my time of need, I don’t know where I’d be. This whole situation has been cathartic. And now I feel cleansed and optimistic about my future. I have a beautiful baby on the way. And maybe there’s a chance that Black and I will get back together. Or maybe we won’t. That’s life. It’s consistently inconsistent. But I’ll never stop loving my beautiful Black King. And I know he still loves me.
Summer Madness
Rochelle Alers
Chapter 1
The weather was perfect for a June wedding.
Afternoon temperatures had peaked in the low eighties, the sun was a brilliant sphere in a cloudless azure sky, and the low humidity made the warm, gentle breeze even more delicious.
A DJ, caterer, and bartenders were waiting for the wedding party guests as they filed into the backyard of the restored brownstone belonging to newlyweds Dr. Wayne and Mrs. Carmen Medina-Nelson in Harlem’s Mt. Morris Park Historic District. A canopy draped in hundreds of yards of creamy white silk organza had transformed the expansive outdoor space into a fairy-tale setting.
Nina Watkins stiffened before relaxing her back as her partner’s fingers tightened on her waist. This is the last time I’m going to be a bridesmaid, she swore silently, affecting a winning smile for the photographer.
It was the third time she had become a bridesmaid, and she was the last in a quartet of best friends who was still single. She also held the distinction of being the only one who had never been engaged. At thirty-four, she had become a professional bridesmaid.
Tilting her head to the left, she raised her chin and stared directly into the camera lens. The photographer snapped two more frames. “That’s it for now,” he announced, nodding and smiling his approval.
Nina let out an audible sigh and curbed the urge to massage her jaw. Her face ached from smiling. She had expected her feet to hurt. When she’d slipped into the silk-covered stilettos, she anticipated limping after being on her feet for more than two hours. As a high school librarian, she was used to wearing comfortable, functional footwear. However, there was something positive to be said for the pricey flower-embroidered Manolo Blahnik sandals.
Richard Nelson, the groom’s brother, reached for her hand. “Come, let’s sit down.”
She smiled at him for the umpteenth time that day. She wasn’t about to argue with him. He led her over to a damask-covered table set aside for the wedding party and pulled out a tufted chair swathed in the same diaphanous silk organza that billowed around the canopy.
Lifting the skirt of her magenta, floor-length satin gown, Nina sat down. Richard took a chair to her left and draped an arm over her bared shoulders. “Could you please get me something cold to drink?” she said quietly, as two other groomsmen and bridesmaids joined them at the table.
She did not need a drink as much as she wanted him to remove his arm. They’d met for the first time earlier that week at the wedding rehearsal, and Richard had zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile bearing down on its target. He’d draped himself over her until she began to think of him as a permanent tattoo. Tall, handsome, and considered a good catch, the urban planner just happened not to be her type; she’d found him too needy and clingy. Over the years she had believed she had a type, but recently she’d come to the conclusion that she would not know her type if he sat on her lap.
Richard stared at Nina, his dark brown eyes moving slowly over her face, finding himself entranced by her delicate beauty. Her shoes added several inches to her diminutive frame, while the slinky halter-styled gown showed her curvy figure to its best advantage—especially the revealing décolletage. Her stylishly cut short hair flattered a round face with high cheekbones, dark brown slanting eyes, a button nose, and a full, lush mouth. The result was an enchanting feminine package.
“What would you like?”
“Club soda.” She never drank anything alcoholic before eating.
Leaning over, Richard kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t rush,” Nina mumbled under her breath to his departing back.
“You’re next to walk down the aisle, Nina,” crooned a sultry feminine voice next to her.
Turning to her right, she stared at Michelle Sims. She’d been Michelle’s maid of honor three years before. “Dream on, girlfriend.”
Michelle smiled. “You and Richard look nice together.”
“Forget it,” she drawled.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. He happens not to be my type.”
A frown appeared between Michelle’s light brown eyes. “Do you really have a type, Nina?”
She rolled her eyes at her best friend. “Of course I do.”
Undaunted, Michelle sucked her teeth. “I showed my cousin who lives in Denver your photograph, and he told me that when he comes to New York in the fall, he’d like to meet you.”
Nina shook her head. “Please, Michelle. I don’t want to meet any more folks in your family. Your Miami cousin needs a dentist big-time, while your uncle from New Orleans looks like the quintessential pimp with an outdated wet-look curl. And I’ll reserve comment on his cologne.” She couldn’t tell Michelle that the scent reminded her of cat urine.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” she continued, “but I’m tired of going out with men who are habitual liars, who refuse to commit, and who have baby-mama drama that rivals the plots of daytime soaps. The only thing worse than finding my own loser is dating the ones recommended by well-meaning friends.”
Michelle frowned again, vertical lines marring her smooth forehead. “There’s nothing wrong with Joseph’s mouth. He has a slight overbite most women find sexy.”
“It wasn’t the overbite. He has at least half a dozen missing teeth in the back of his mouth,” Nina countered softly. She hadn’t noticed the absence of teeth until he laughed.
Michelle’s retort was preempted as a round of applause greeted Dr. and Mrs. Wayne Nelson as they took their seats at the bridal table.
The opening verse of Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” came through speakers concealed behind trees and flowering rosebushes. Heads bobbed, feet tapped, fingers snapped, and several couples gyrated over to the portable stage set aside for dancing. The celebrating had begun in earnest.
Richard returned with Nina’s club soda. He set it on the table and extended his right hand. “May I have this dance?” Before she could refuse, he grasped her hand, pulled her gently to her feet, and steered her toward the dance floor.
As soon as Nina raised her arms
, swaying to the catchy tune, she decided she was going to enjoy herself. So what, she was a three-time bridesmaid, so what she didn’t have a steady boyfriend, so what she hadn’t had a date in more than six months, and so freaking what she had been celibate for more than a year. The upbeat tempo segued into a slow love song, and Richard wound his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his body.
“A group of my friends are going down to Virginia Beach next weekend,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’d like you to come with me.” Easing back, he flashed a Cheshire cat grin.
Nina closed her eyes. Oh, no, he didn’t go there! They hadn’t gone out on one date, and he expected her to go away with him. And do what together? she asked, continuing her mental monologue.
She forced a smile she did not feel. “Thanks, but I can’t.”
His grin vanished. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“I have other plans.”
“Can’t you change them?”
“No. Will you change yours?”
He shook his head. “I can’t, because my boys and I planned this trip a couple of months ago.”
Nina affected a facetious smile. “And I can’t change my plans because I made them a year ago.”
Every year for the past six summers she had loaded the trunk of a rental car with what she would need for her vacation and driven to Sag Harbor, Long Island, for the season; and this year was no exception.
“What do you say we get together after I come back?”
“I don’t say,” she said, deciding to be honest with him. “I’m going to be out of the city for the summer. I won’t be back until after Labor Day.”
Spinning her around, Richard dipped Nina, his mouth hovering over hers. “You can’t blame a brother for trying.”
She smiled up at the face looming inches from her own. “No, I can’t.”
He eased her up, and they finished the dance number. They hadn’t taken more than three steps when Richard stopped abruptly. Nina bumped into him, losing her balance in the three-inch heels. A hand reached out to steady her, strong masculine fingers curving around her upper arm.
“Oh!”
“Careful.”
Nina and her rescuer had spoken in unison.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Richard said, grinning at the tall, impeccably dressed man. “How the hell are you, D.L.?”
“Just getting by, cousin.” Even though he had spoken to Richard, his gaze was fixed on Nina’s upturned face.
“I didn’t expect you to come.”
“I don’t see why not, Richard. After all, I did send back my response card indicating I planned to attend.”
“I’ll give you that, but how many family functions have you missed over the past three years?”
The man Richard had called D.L. shifted his gaze to his cousin. “You’re forgetting your manners, Richard. Aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady?” He’d deftly shifted the topic away from himself.
Nina had watched the interaction between the two men, transfixed. D.L. was tall, dark, and handsome. And there was no doubt that his suit had not come off the rack. A blended silk and wool navy blue double-breasted jacket with a subtle pinstripe was literally draped over his broad shoulders. The platinum silk tie knotted under the spread collar of a crisp white shirt was the perfect complement to the suit. She noted a pair of conservative silver cufflinks in French cuffs.
Her rapt gaze lingered on his lean, sable-brown face. The brown eyes, with flecks of gold, missed nothing. His catlike slanting eyes and refined features called to mind a sleek black panther.
Richard stared at Nina, frowning when he saw the direction of her entranced stare. “Nina, this is my cousin, Andrew Lancaster. Drew, Nina Watkins.”
Nina extended a manicured hand, smiling. “My pleasure, Mr. Lancaster.”
Drew angled his head, an eyebrow lifting as he registered the low, dulcet voice of the petite bridesmaid. He cradled her smaller hand in his, noting that the color on her nails matched her dress. Raising her hand, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“No, it’smy pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Watkins.” Their gazes met and fused, the corners of their mouths inching up in a knowing smile. Reluctantly, Drew released Nina’s soft hand. “Please excuse me, but I want to congratulate Wayne and his beautiful bride.”
Nina nodded numbly, watching as Drew walked away. He might have been Richard’s cousin, but he projected an aura that was different from her wedding partner’s.
Waiters and waitresses, carrying trays perched on fingertips, were offering hot and cold canapés, and Nina accepted a napkin, a chilled jumbo shrimp dipped into a piquant cocktail sauce, and two overstuffed mushrooms. Richard had returned to the bar to get a drink, and she rejoined Michelle and Kim Stewart, the third member of their quartet.
A mysterious smile touched Michelle’s mouth when she saw the direction of Nina’s gaze. “Is that your type?”
“So, you noticed?”
“Oh, yeah. Only a blind person would miss the silent fireworks between the two of you.”
“Was I that obvious?”
Michelle waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it, Nina. He was staring at you as if you were dessert. Don’t look now, but he’s looking this way.”
“His name is Andrew Lancaster, but Richard called him D.L.”
Michelle stared at Andrew as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and handed Wayne an envelope. “I take it he’s a friend of Wayne.” She, Nina, Carmen, and Kim had grown up together, and over the years they’d come to know one another’s relatives.
“He’s a cousin.”
Kim whistled softly. “Damn! The Nelsons have a helluva gene pool. There’s no doubt there will be another generation of beautiful babies.”
“I hear you,” Michelle whispered conspiratorially. “Speaking of babies—”
“You’re pregnant?” Kim asked, interrupting her.
Michelle lowered her gaze. “I’m only a few days late.”
“Take the test,” Nina said, grinning.
“It’s too soon,” Michelle insisted. “I don’t want a false positive.”
Kim rolled her hazel eyes. “I’m with Nina. I say take the test.”
Michelle shook her head. “I’m going to wait until Thursday. The school year will be over, and Lloyd and I can stay in bed all day celebratingif I am pregnant.” Michelle, Lloyd, and Nina worked in the same Brooklyn high school.
“Oh,no! ” Michelle gasped. “Look at Carmen’s fast-ass cousin cheesing at your man, Nina. Uh-uh! There ain’t no excuse for that nasty hoochie mama to bend over that far. Someone should’ve milked her before she put on that scandalous dress.”
“Have you been holding out on us, Nina?” Kim asked.
Nina stared at Kim. “Holding out what?”
“Do you have something going on with D.L.?”
“Of course not. I just met him,” she said, but she wanted to say yes. There was something about the way Drew had looked at her that stoked a fire that had been banked for far too long. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “I need a drink.”
Kim rose with her. “I’m right behind you, girlfriend.” She turned and looked at Michelle. “Are you coming?”
“I’m not drinking anything alcoholic until I find out one way or the other.”
“Take the test,” Nina and Kim chorused, laughing.
Chapter 2
Drew sat at the table with his mother, aunts, and uncles, his gaze following the gentle sway of Nina Watkins’s hips as she got up with the women who crowded together in an attempt to catch Carmen’s bridal bouquet.
Nice.That was the only word he could come up with to describe her. There was something about Nina that intrigued him, but he had managed to quell his curiosity and not ask Wayne about her because he wanted to be pleasantly surprised. Now that she had gotten up with the other single women, he could cross one query off his list as to her marital status.
“Are you behaving
yourself, Drew?” his mother’s twin sister asked him for what was now the tenth time. Although she was only in her mid-sixties, she had been diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer’s.
He smiled. “Yes, Aunt Bettina.”
“You’re not still running with those criminals that used to give everyone on the block grief.”
“No, Aunt Bettina.”
“You got a job, Drew?”
“Yes, Auntie, I have a job.”
“What is it you do?”
He sobered, his expression stoic. “I’d rather not say.”
Bettina slapped the table with the plastic fan she always carried with her. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’d rather not say because you’re still doing stuff on the down-low. They don’t call you D.L. for nothing, boy.”
Drew wanted to tell his aunt that he wasn’t a boy, hadn’t been one in a long time. At thirty-eight, he was approaching middle age, but he knew it was useless to argue with Bettina. His maiden aunt had earned a reputation for being mean-spirited and opinionated even before her illness.
“Audrey told me you paid for her to take a cruise to the Panama Canal later on in the year. She claims it was your retirement gift to her,” Wilbur Nelson said in a deep, authoritative voice.
Drew gave his uncle a direct stare. “I told her to take an around-the-world cruise on theQE2, but she wanted to see the Panama Canal.”
The older man shook his head. “Your daddy must be praying for you from heaven to keep your butt out of jail. And I’ll have you know no Nelson has ever served time in prison. That’s because we’re God-fearing people who always try to do the right thing. What you’re doing isn’t right, Andrew. You know it, and I know it. And if you’re arrested, don’t call me, because I’m not going to lift a finger to help you.”
He dismissed his attorney uncle’s tirade and turned his attention back to the women in front of the bridal table. This was the reason he did not frequent many family gatherings. He’d grown tired of the interrogation, insinuations, and accusations. His family had never forgiven him for dropping out of college; it was a Nelson tradition to graduate from college and become a professional. What they did not know was that hewas a professional—without a college degree.
