When Somebody Loves You Back

by Mary B. Morrison

  Taking several steps toward the garage, Fancy started to check for Darius’s car, instantly changing her mind. He hadn’t answered her calls since he’d left. One minute his cell phone was on, the next, off. Player recognized game. Darius’s tactics were lukewarm at best. She knew the schemes all too well. Fancy was a true diva who knew how to be a straight-up bitch. Nothing could hurt a man worse than a woman.

  Tracking Darius’s whereabouts was not how she wanted to start their lives together. “I’m not becoming an inspector, checking pants pockets, online cell phone histories, incoming or outgoing cell phone numbers, calling him fifty times a day or sniffing his ass to see if it’s too clean or sour from having sex.”

  She’d leave that nonsense for insecure women like Ashlee. Fancy would give Darius all the rope he needed to hang himself with lies. She went into the bedroom and slammed the door, praying this wasn’t a sign of how marriage to Darius would progress. Glancing at the digital clock she wondered, where had Darius gone at midnight and stayed over seven hours?

  Sitting in the bed, Fancy checked her mental Rolodex. Who could she call to help take her mind off Darius? The three-hour time difference made it nine in the morning in Atlanta. Fancy thought about Desmond. A part of her missed him. His attentiveness. Kindness. Desmond was a good enough lover to satisfy her appetite but not adventurous enough to explore her curiosities or fulfill her fantasies. She hadn’t heard his voice in months. Picking up the handset from the nightstand, Fancy dialed Desmond’s number.

  “Hey, you’re gonna live a long time.” Fancy could hear the smile in Desmond’s voice. “I was just thinking about you.” His tone was soothing. Seductive.

  “Thinking about me? Or thinking about me?” Fancy asked, stroking her hot pussy.

  “Both. I miss you. But shouldn’t you be all hugged up honeymooning with your husband?”

  “Yeah,” she moaned, “I will be, in a minute. But he’s not my husband.”

  Desmond’s voice escalated. “What? You didn’t marry him?”

  “Somethin’ like that,” Fancy purred, slipping her middle finger inside her puckering pussy.

  “I knew it! You know I’m the man for you.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” Sarcastic or otherwise, Desmond always made her laugh. When was the last time she’d laughed with Darius? With so much going on, Fancy couldn’t remember. “Dez, you’re my best friend. I shouldn’t have called. Don’t know why I did. Ummm.”

  “Yes, you do. What better man to marry than your best friend? You don’t want to admit how you feel for me. Well, I’m not too proud to say I love you, Fancy. I’m doing well in law school. And I’ve got my own place now and you have an open invitation to visit. Or stay.”

  Spanking her clit, Fancy might have to take Dez up on his offer if Darius didn’t get his act together. “What happened to Tanya?”

  “Tanya is your friend. Her name is Trina.”

  “Whateva, what happened to her?”

  “Couldn’t do it. Haven’t gotten over you. Besides, studying takes up all of my time.”

  “Dez.” Fancy already knew, but didn’t understand why, Desmond truly loved her. “I, I, I’ve gotta go. Bye.”

  No way could she be with Desmond. Any one of her other exes would’ve had her screaming and cumming so hard the phone would’ve been stuck inside her pussy. Not clueless Dez. But right now, Fancy was so horny, any dick would do, including a vibrator. Would using a vibrator harm her fetus? Fancy was excited about having Darius’s baby and didn’t want anything to interfere with her pregnancy.

  Since Darius had lost his firstborn and she’d terminated her first pregnancy, their baby growing inside her would bring both of them happiness. Did he or she have eyes yet? If so, what color? How much longer before she’d feel the first flutter of life? “If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Diamond.” Not because of any sentimental attachment to Darius’s mother’s middle name. Diamond was the strongest, most precious gem known to man. That’s how Fancy wanted to raise her daughter. Rubbing her flat stomach, she poked out her belly, then laughed. “Mommy loves you, precious.

  “If it’s a boy, I want to name him Thurston Williams.” Fancy loved the strong tone of the name Thurston. But she’d raise him with a sensitive loving side and teach him how to treat a lady. Any woman less than a lady, she’d tell Thurston to leave her alone and never bring her home.

  Wow, the thought of motherhood scared and excited Fancy. She visualized decorating the room, shopping for clothes, breast-feeding. First word. First step. She wanted to experience everything. No day care until their baby could speak complete sentences.

  The risk of using a vibrator wasn’t worth the orgasm, so Fancy eased out of her gold thong, tossed it to the floor, stretched across the bed, spread her legs, and allowed her fingers to bring her the pleasure Darius didn’t.

  “Ummm, yes,” she moaned, imagining Darius’s long dick entering her pussy. “You make me feel so good, Daddy. Go deeper,” Fancy moaned, entangling herself in the silk sheets, envisioning Darius hitting her spot…until she heard a woman singing…“If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody, baby.”

  “What the hell? Not the stereo again.” This time Fancy took her time walking into the living room. She stared at an oldies commercial on the big-screen television.

  “Darius has got to take these alarms off. This is driving me nuts.”

  Unable to sleep, Fancy picked up the cordless and dialed Darius’s cell phone. No answer. She hit REDIAL. Voice mail. Fancy called the last person she honestly wanted to speak to—her mother, Caroline.

  Fancy’s relationship with her mother wasn’t great. Therapy sessions with Mandy had helped Fancy to forgive her mother for never having been a mother. Fancy regretted calling Mandy a bitch. No more sessions. Mandy seriously refused to see her. Twenty-plus years it took for Fancy to stop crying over how she was the child who practically raised her mother, and to start trying to be a daughter. Stop insulting Caroline’s obesity and start complimenting her accomplishments. Like Caroline earning her GED. A few more classes and her mother would have a diploma. Caroline, like everyone else who’d attended the wedding, had left numerous messages on Fancy’s voice mail.

  After several rings, Caroline answered, “Hi, honey. Are you okay? I’ve tried calling you. What happened to you guys? Everyone was at the wedding except you two. But it’s probably best because you wouldn’t believe that a crazy lady showed up in a limo with a veil over her face dressed in a white wedding gown. And since no one else was getting married, I figured she was waitin’ to start some shit. Rolling down the window. Rolling up the window. Peeping every few minutes. Oh, she didn’t think anyone saw her, but sho nuff, your mama stood outside long enough waiting for you and saw her. That’s why I sat on the last pew, so I could check her ass at the do’.”

  “Mama.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. You know, considering I never got married, I wanted your wedding to be perfect. How’s Darius?”

  “Ma, it’s okay. That was probably Ciara.”

  “Ciara? Who’s Ciara?”

  “Never mind. Where are you?”

  “Never mind my foot. Who’s Ciara?”

  Fancy mumbled, “His wife.”

  “His what!”

  “I shouldn’t have told you. We couldn’t get married because Ciara refuses to sign the divorce papers.” Fancy told the truth and a lie at the same time because she’d had no idea before the wedding that Darius was legally married.

  “Well, I’ma say my piece and I’m done. Move on.”

  “Ma, I’m grown. Let me make my own mistakes. Where are you?”

  “In the Ritz enjoying the suite y’all paid for. I’ve got a massage scheduled in my room at noon. Can’t wait. This baby been kickin’ my stomach left and right all night.”

  “Speaking of a baby, Mama, I’m pregnant too.”

  “Baby, you need to slow down. Are you happy? Are you going to keep this one? You’re not going to change your mind about raising my baby, are you?
I sure hope not, ’cause I don’t have no more energy to chase after no kid. Not even my own.”

  “Of course I’m keeping my baby. And yes, unlike you, I’m keeping my promise.”

  “Is it Darius’s baby?”

  “Ma, what kinda question is that?”

  “Knowing you, a good one. What about Byron, and that child that followed you around like a sick in-love puppy? Desmond. So is it Darius’s?”

  “Bye, Ma,” Fancy said, then hung up before Caroline asked any more probing questions.

  Walking into Darius’s closet, Fancy put on one of her jogging suits, laced up her tennis shoes, and tied a bandana over her ponytail. Unlocking the front door, she jogged around the driveway, stretched, then trotted uphill. Running a few miles wouldn’t take her mind off Darius, but afterward she’d feel better.

  The sunrise was blinding and yellow and orange hues stretched across the sky. Once she and Darius married and moved to Atlanta, Fancy would be closer to Desmond. At least she’d have one friend in Atlanta.

  Fancy stopped alongside a parked car. “Waaa. Waaa.” Did she hear a baby crying? Peeping through the window, she saw the cutest little baby wailing back at her. Fancy’s eyes bucked. “Oh my gosh! The poor kid is alone.” The baby was lying back strapped in the car seat, its hazel eyes seeming to plead for help as if to say, “Don’t just stand there, get me outta here!”

  “Waaaaaaaaa!”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be right back.”

  Racing downhill, into the house, Fancy dialed 9-1-1.

  “Yes, there’s a baby abandoned inside a vehicle near 12121…the license plate number is HH2 and it’s a black SUV.”

  The operator replied, “I’m sending help right away. What is the baby doing?”

  “Crying like this,” Fancy yelled into the receiver, “Waaaaaa!”

  “Calm down, miss. What is the child doing now?”

  “I don’t know. I had to come home to call you.”

  The operator asked, “Can you go back to the car?”

  “Yes, but I can’t stay on the phone and go back.”

  “Okay, can you call us back from a cell phone?”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Fancy grabbed her cell phone and headed back uphill. When Fancy saw the police car parked behind the SUV, she was relieved, went back inside, and flopped on the golden suede sofa.

  “What crazy person would leave a child alone in a car?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Ashlee

  “Darius,” Ashlee called out, rolling over in the bed. There was no response, so she sat up and spoke louder. “Darius?”

  Scrambling off the floral-print comforter, Ashlee flung open the bathroom door. “No,” she cried, backing into the wall. Her knees buckled as she slid to the floor. She should’ve put the valet parking stub in her pants pocket. What good would that have done?

  “You’re the one who let yourself down, so pick yourself up,” Ashlee said, standing tall. Wrapping her hand around the receiver, she pressed the Front Desk button.

  “Yess?” the receptionist cheerfully answered. “I bet I know who you’re looking for. Honey, he’s gone and I tell you I’ve never seen anyone leave faster. I hope you got paid first, sista girl.”

  Soon as Ashlee said, “I am not a prostitute,” she noticed money on the desk.

  “It’s your world, call it what you want, but in my world, you a hooker. Look, can you give Mr. Williams a message from me?”

  “This is not a game! What idiot hired you? Don’t make me come down there and have you fired!”

  The receptionist said, “See, I was gonna tell you where he went.”

  Lowering her voice, Ashlee asked, “Where?”

  The receptionist laughed, then said, “You must’ve been polishing your nails when God gave out common sense, ’cause you sure are naïve.”

  “I’m not naïve, I’m sick,” Ashlee said, dropping the phone on the nightstand. “I hate this damn medication!” She sniffled, unscrewing the white cap from the yellow bottle. Pacing, Ashlee walked from the desk to the door and back. Picking up the note, she read Take a taxi back to your SUV and never contact me again.

  “Fuck you, Darius!” Ashlee screamed, then cried, “Somebody heelllp meeee! I can’t remember what I’m supposed to remember. I’m losing my mind. I don’t deserve to be a…oh God! I’m the worst mother in the world.”

  Debating on whether to take two tablets or flush them all down the toilet, Ashlee picked up her glass of flat champagne, tossed the pills to the back of her throat, and swallowed. If anything happened to little Darius, she’d never forgive herself.

  Postpartum depression had overtaken her body the second day after little Darius was born. Months later, her doctor claimed she hadn’t recovered, reporting she’d gotten worse. What did he know about being a woman? A mother? All he did was write one addictive prescription after another that obviously hadn’t cured her problem.

  “Bastard!” Crumbling the five one-hundred-dollar bills individually, Ashlee pitched them into the trash can. “How dare you treat me like one of your whores? Your money can’t buy me!”

  Not true. He already had bought her. Her love, her body, all of her was willingly given to Darius in exchange for nothing but headaches. She’d freely dedicated her life to him, not realizing anything worth having was everything except free. Love had a price. Problem was, Ashlee didn’t know her self-worth.

  She hated taking her meds. Hated herself when she didn’t take her meds. Either way, Ashlee’s mental state was adversely progressing. One step away from going insane or committing suicide, she felt her brain like a time bomb. Tick. Tick. Tick. Boom! She could snap at any moment about anything. Darius was the only person who made her feel normal. Not her mother. Not her father. Darius. Why did bad things happen to sweet little innocent Ashlee?

  Putting on his wife-beater, her jeans, his button-up, and her wedding shoes, Ashlee ran down the exit stairway to the front desk, panting. “Please, can someone get me a taxi, fast?”

  “Girl, I told you. See, that’s why I gets my money first before giving up my stuff to these athletes. I’ma personally call you—”

  Slamming her hands on the counter, Ashlee leaned in the woman’s face and screamed, “Shut! Up!” then ran outside to the valet. “Can someone pleeaaassse get me a taxi?”

  Inserting his pinky fingers into the corners of his mouth, the valet blew three sharp times, then waved his hand in the air. “Lady, are you okay?” he asked, opening the back door.

  “Thanks,” Ashlee said, handing him five dollars. Settling into the backseat, she handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. “Hurry to 12121…it’s an emergency. How could she have forgotten about little Darius? Actually she hadn’t completely forgotten. One moment she remembered, the next moment she was distracted, all along thinking, He’s asleep. He’s okay. I’ll get to him soon, before drifting into another thought.

  As she replayed the sequence of events, Ashlee’s eyes narrowed, her lips tightened. “There.” She pointed. “Park alongside that black SUV.”

  When the taxi stopped, Ashlee heard her baby hollering. Remotely she unlocked the doors, sat in the back, unbuckled his car seat, then rocked him in her arms. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. Mommy won’t do it again. I promise, baby. Mommy loves you so much.”

  But it had happened before. Hopefully, it wouldn’t happen again.

  Sirens blared, startling little Darius. “Waaaa!”

  A Los Angeles police car parked behind her. Whurrrup! An officer marched to her car with his hand on his gun.

  Ashlee’s heart pounded. Quickly she pulled little Darius to her chest and uncovered her breast, placing her nipple next to his lips. Little Darius patted her as if to say, “What’s this, Mommy?”

  Knocking on the window, the officer asked, “Is everything okay, miss?”

  Partially opening the back door, Ashlee said, “Yes, officer. We’re fine. I’m just feeding my baby.”

&
nbsp; Holding the door open, the officer said, “Several people”—he looked at his notebook, then said—“reported an abandoned child in a black SUV, license HH2….”

  “Sorry, must’ve been a mistake. But thank you,” Ashlee said, holding her titty in his view.

  “Miss, did you leave your baby alone in the car, maybe to go inside?” the tall, young-looking officer asked. “Three calls can’t be a mistake.”

  Annoyed, Ashlee replied, “I said thank you,” then closed the door.

  “Have a good day,” he said, then walked away. Sitting in his car with a partner who never got out of the car, the officer was jotting down a few notes as if he was finishing up his report.

  She waited for him to drive off. He didn’t.

  Little Darius’s car seat was to wet to put him back in, so Ashlee sat behind the driver’s wheel, propped her baby between two fresh blankets, strapped him into the passenger seat, then headed downhill. She decreased her speed as she drove past Darius’s home. Tempted to revisit him, she drove slower. Almost to the corner, Ashlee heard whurrrup!

  Exhaling, she thought, Not him again. Parking in the turning lane, Ashlee lowered her window. “How can I help you this time?”

  “I just wanted to tell you your baby’s blanket is hang—miss, you can’t drive with your child in the front seat like that.”

  Little Darius had tumbled over the seat belt. “His car seat is wet,” Ashlee said, raising her window.

  It was midway up when the officer placed his hand atop the edge of the glass. “I’m going to have to issue you a ticket and you must put him back in the seat or I’m going to impound your vehicle.”

  Annoyed, Ashlee said, “Officer, let me see, Nero, badge number…you wouldn’t.”

  “I will and I can have you arrested for child endangerment. What is your problem, lady? You’re arguing with me about your child’s safety. Are you crazy?”