When Somebody Loves You Back

by Mary B. Morrison

  Jada wanted to ask a question instead of answering one. What made Wellington interested when he’d taken over Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top?

  “I will, but let me ask, why did you have so much interest in taking over Darius’s company?”

  Wellington’s eyes rolled to the top of his head. Looking at her, he said, “Are you serious? Do you know how much money that company is worth? Darius is a billionaire. And that’s his net worth. Not gross. I didn’t want him to screw that up like he’d done everything else. But if what you really want to know is if I’ve given back his third of the business legally, the answer is, no, I haven’t. But I will. Darryl is the one to watch out for.”

  Wellington gave her a lot to think about. If anything happened to Wellington, the one thing he would do was will his share to them. His third would be divided equally between her and Darius. Jada wondered if Darius realized he had so much money.

  “Yes, Wellington Jones, I am in love with you. Always have been. Always will be. And your surgery is going to go fine.” Jada crossed her fingers underneath the pillow, silently saying a quick prayer, then continued, “So stop worrying yourself.”

  “Well, this is it. I’m finally going under the knife. The next time y’all see me I’ll be lighter, if you know what I mean.”

  Leaning over, Jada held Wellington’s head close to her stomach, intentionally letting her breasts smother his face. “You’ll always be a whole man in my eyes. I love you, baby.”

  “You say that now. We’ll see…” Wellington’s words trailed off.

  Nervously Jada leaned closer to his face, and then she lowered her eyes to his chest, waiting for a sign that he was breathing. When his chest moved, she sighed.

  “Ma,” Darius whispered.

  Jada jumped, placing her hand over her chest. “Darius, stop creeping up behind me like that.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I need to go check on Fancy. I’ll be back in a few hours to go with you to take Wellington to the hospital.” Affectionately Darius kissed her forehead.

  “Thank you, baby,” Jada said, watching her son walk out the door. Something bothered her baby. She could see it. Feel it.

  The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Hurriedly Jada placed a pillow under Wellington’s head and sprinted three steps to the phone before it rang again.

  Softly she answered, “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Tanner. Is Darius there?”

  “No, Fancy, he’s not. Call him on his cell.” Jada hung up the phone. It rang again, so she quickly answered, annoyed, “Yeess?”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Wellington is trying to rest.”

  “I’m here for you if you need anything, you know that. What time did you say we’re meeting at the hospital?”

  Jada heard an announcement in the background. “Last boarding call for flight 332 to Los Angeles.” “Where are you?”

  “I had to make a quick run to Dallas, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Jada frowned. “Dallas? I just saw you a few hours ago.”

  “Oh, I’ll explain later. I gotta go.”

  “Candice, you’ve done enough. You don’t have to make it to the hospital. Darius is going.”

  “Darius? Wonderful, then I’ll make sure I head to the hospital as soon as I get in.”

  “Fine. Bye, Candice.”

  Jada appreciated her friend’s support, but Candice was acting a bit odd. She’d already invaded Jada’s life once, writing and selling a screenplay about the most personal aspects of her life. Fortunately Darius’s company was controlling the production. Unfortunately Darius’s ex-wife Ciara’s casting company was hiring the actors, including Candice’s ex-husband. Thanks to her best friend, Candice Jordan, everybody was making money. But Candice was also a true friend and wouldn’t disappoint her again. How did Jada ever forgive Candice the first time? Maybe the same way she’d forgiven her husband. She didn’t want to be one of those women who held a lifetime grudge against her girlfriend but easily forgave her man.

  “I’ve gotta pee,” Jada said, entering the downstairs bathroom. When Jada lifted the toilet seat, her mouth opened wide but she couldn’t scream. Like the roses Wellington used to send, more red than yellow settled in the porcelain bowl. Oh my God, she thought, racing to the front door. Darius’s car was gone. Jada ran to the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  When the operator answered, Jada frantically said, “Yes, I need an ambulance at…Hurry, it’s an emergency. My husband’s urine is full of blood.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Darius

  Driving home from his mother’s, Darius contemplated telling Fancy the truth. She deserved to know. What if this time he weren’t so fortunate? Would she stay? Leave? Darius couldn’t imagine life without Fancy. She stayed after catching him with two women in his bed at the same time. She stayed after discovering why he couldn’t marry her. She stayed after knowing three women could’ve been pregnant by him. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Darius thought, Oh, sweet Fancy didn’t have a choice. She had to stay, she was carrying his child.

  As soon as Darius powered on his cell to call Fancy in attempt to gauge her mood before walking through the door, his phone rang. Looking at his caller ID, Darius debated answering. On the fourth ring, he said, “Hey, coach. What’s up?”

  “You know what’s up.”

  Darius nodded along with the coach’s statement.

  “You’ve got forty-eight hours. If you don’t take your physical before then, you won’t have a contract. We’ve already lined up your replacement.”

  “You can’t replace me. Next to K’Nine, I’m your best player.”

  “Can and will. No player is bigger than our team.”

  Darius mumbled, “That’s probably the problem.” Wannabe head, merely assistant coach. At least Darius knew what to expect from this loser.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Darius wasn’t about to kiss his ass but to keep the peace until his contract was legit, he explained, “Look, coach. I’ma do my part and then some. You know this. But I meant to call and tell you my dad is having surgery and I’m grooming someone to run my multimillion-dollar business, you know, Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top. Seriously, all I need is about four mo’ days.”

  “You’ve had almost four months. A wedding that didn’t happen. An arrest that did. A son you don’t take care of. A pregnant fiancée. A mama who can’t say no to your spoiled lying ass. A baby mama who, thanks to you, is one day away from checking into a mental institution. It’s your stepfather who’s having surgery. Your real dad has been running your company for months…Yada yada ya, you’re full of shit! One sorry-ass excuse after another. You need to grow the fuck up! You weren’t my recommendation and if it weren’t for your father’s great reputation and relationship with our head coach, he wouldn’t have given you a chance to make millions that I’m positive you won’t earn, obviously because you think like a dick with your dick. You’ll be outta here in less than a year. You’re one big failure, Williams. You hear me? You’re nothing but a liar, a user, and a failure! Don’t think I won’t have you replaced, don’t show up. Oh, and in the NBA, we don’t give a damn about your mama or your billion-dollar company. We pay you to work your ass off for us. You’ve got forty-eight hours and your time starts right now,” the assistant coach said, then hung up.

  “Whoa.” Darius paused, then screamed into a dead receiver, “Fuck you, man! You’re just jealous. Everyone’s fuckin’ hatin’ on a brotha.” As he threw his cell in the passenger seat, tears filled Darius’s eyes. A man had never spoken to him like that. No one had. Coach’s fact was a lie. Darius had the paternity test to prove Ciara’s baby wasn’t his son. And it was millions, not billions. “You don’t know me,” Darius yelled, froze, then blinked repeatedly.

  “Nobody knows me.”

  Darius sat crying for a long time, reevaluating his life. “I’m sick of this hiding all the time, crying-like-a-baby shit.” Darius wanted hel
p. He didn’t want to be disliked. The time had come to face his fears. Picking up his cell, he dialed Mandy’s number.

  “Mandy’s office. How may I help you?”

  “Yes, um, um, I’d like to schedule an appointment.”

  “Your name?”

  “Williams. Darius Williams.”

  “Well, congratulations, Mr. Williams. I know getting that large contract must be stressful, people calling pretending they’re related to you and stuff, huh?”

  “Something like that. How soon can I get in?”

  “Hold please.”

  Hopefully soon, Darius thought, still flaming about the coach’s comments. What the fuck was he doing, an independent background check?

  “Mandy has her first opening in three months.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Wait, Mr. Williams, don’t hang up. I can call you if we have a cancellation.”

  “Whateva. That’s fine,” Darius said, hanging up. “Fuck!”

  What the fuck?

  No, Darius did not see his next-door neighbor tiptoeing out of his garage. Driving slower, Darius stopped and watched in disbelief. Michael sprinted. No, he did not trample on the grass. Before Darius could press the button on his remote to close the garage, the door lowered. “Oh, this had better be good.” Darius didn’t bother parking in the garage; he left his car diagonally in the driveway, then burst through the front door.

  “Fancy!” he yelled out. “Fancy! Where the hell are you!”

  “In here.” Fancy’s choppy voice crept echoing from his kitchen.

  Rushing over to Fancy, he slapped her hand away from her mouth, and two small tablets fell to the iridescent marbled tiles. Shoving Fancy, Darius yelled, “Why the fuck was Michael coming out of my house? You know my rule. No men in my house unless I’m here!”

  Setting the cranberry-filled goblet on the counter, Fancy whaled her arms through the air in front of Darius’s face as she drew back a trembling hand, then yelled back, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re the one who stayed out all night!” Smack! Her hand landed across his cheek.

  Darius’s jaw tightened as he clenched his back teeth. Oh, he desperately wanted to hit Fancy back. He stormed to the bedroom with Fancy stomping on his heels. Marching around the room, lifting the comforter, checking the trash cans, and sniffing the air, Darius faced Fancy. Shoving his pointing fingers fractions of an inch from her forehead, he yelled, “You tryna get even with me? In my house! In my bed! Oh, you fucked him, didn’t you!” Grabbing Fancy’s shoulders, Darius rattled her back and forth, then forced her onto the bed. He stood over Fancy, waiting for a response, and it’d better not be the wrong one.

  Sitting up, Fancy countered, “Maybe you should go next door and thank Michael.”

  Darius’s eyes narrowed; his heart raced. “Wha—what are you talking about? Thank him for what? Fucking my woman!” He bent over, picking up the soiled underwear that popped from under the sheet. As he inhaled the white lace suctioned into his nostrils. “Explain this nasty shit! He got you all wet and you were too turned on to move your crusty fuckin’ drawers from underneath my cover!”

  Fancy leaned toward Darius, snatching the panties from his grip. “Give me that! Darius, you’ve lost your damn mind!” Inspecting the material, she yelled, “This cheap-ass lace is not mine!” throwing them in Darius’s face. “If you would fuck me, instead of dippin’ your dick in half of L.A., I wouldn’t have to fuck myself! But obviously you’re not missing out on any pussy! Maybe I should fuck Michael!”

  Exhaling, Darius stared at Fancy’s heaving tits, her lips; she looked sexy as hell mad. His dick twitched. Maybe he should fuck her right now. Show her ass who was the boss. In the heat of the moment, he could flip this aggression into make-up sex. He knew the pussy would be ten times better than his session hours ago with Ashlee.

  Panting, Fancy said, “Michael was nice enough to let me know the garage door was open. Whateva bitch you were in such a hurry to fuck last night must’ve been damn good.”

  Damn, her words had just registered. He couldn’t sexually satisfy his woman? But he hadn’t planned on fucking Ashlee. It just sorta, kinda happened. A man had two choices and he was taking option number one; Darius wasn’t admitting a thing. Softening his tone, he said, “I’m sorry, baby, I did leave the garage door up. I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind. I was at my mom’s last night. She’s not doing too well.”

  “Stop lying! I’m sick of your lies, Darius. I’m stressing. I’m the one who’s not feeling well. I’m considering not having this baby.”

  Backing away from Fancy before he did something he’d regret, Darius said, “No way. No fuckin’ way.” Tears swelled in his eyes. Not again, he thought, unable to control Fancy’s decision. Streams flowed down Darius’s cheeks. He sat on the bed stroking Fancy’s hair. “Ladycat, what are you stressed about?”

  “You. Ashlee. Ciara. Us. Getting married. Not getting married. Everything. You’re selfish. You always react before getting all the facts. It’s your way or no way. When you don’t want to talk about something, I’m supposed to forget about it. I called your mother’s house. She said you weren’t there.”

  Not hearing a word after Fancy said Ashlee, Darius nervously asked, “Why Ashlee?”

  “She called today. Several times.”

  His eyes shifted to the corners away from Fancy. “And? Said what?”

  “Right before she called me a bitch, she told me everything,” Fancy said, then turned her back toward Darius. “I’m just disappointed that you didn’t tell me. Darius, how could you!” Fancy yelled, balling into a fetal position, holding her stomach with one hand, her head with the other. “Now I know why you haven’t made love to me.”

  Darius paced alongside the bed, then whispered, “I was going to tell you. I swear. I just didn’t know how.” He stopped in front the three-way mirror, staring at his reflection. Two times in a row, he felt like shit.

  “So now what, mister, I’ve got all the answers? What are you going to do?” Fancy asked.

  “I’ll call my doctor and have him come to the house and test us. Or I can get that new home self-test kit, but I don’t trust that shit. From what I hear, people who’re negative are testing positive. Either way I need to know something before I take my physical for Atlanta. Coach just called, breathing down my neck and shit. But you have to promise me you won’t leave me if my HIV test comes back positive or…” Darius paused, massaged Fancy’s shoulder, then continued, “If you and the baby test positive.”

  As she sat in the center of the bed facing Darius, Fancy’s eyes grew the size of golf balls. “Hold up! Wait one muthafuckin’ minute! Darius Jones-Williams, please tell me you are not telling me that you might have AIDS? That I might have AIDS! And our baby! I will hurt you up in here!” Covering her mouth, Fancy continued, “Oh my God! You nasty son of a bitch! You came in my mouth knowing you might be…”

  Darius stood looking at Fancy. One pillow after another flew in his face. When he didn’t bother blocking the pillows, Fancy leaped catlike from the bed onto him, throwing punches like she was Laila Ali, to Darius’s head, neck, face, and shoulders, screaming, “I hate you!”

  “Stop punching me, you crazy bitch! You said you knew. Ashlee told you. Right? Fuck!” Darius yelled, thrusting Fancy onto the bed. “What did she tell you?”

  Kicking in his direction, Fancy screamed, “Oh my God! My back!” scrambling out the opposite side of the bed. “My back is killing me! You always fuck up, Darius! You always manage to fuck up everything that’s good! I hate you!” Heaving, holding her stomach, Fancy desperately tried to regurgitate but couldn’t until she succeeded by forcing her middle finger down her throat.

  His eyes froze, his body became numb, the woman he loved hated him. The contract he wanted he might not get. What would Darius do without basketball and Fancy?

  He flashed back to the day he had shoved Ciara while she was pregnant, causing her to hit her head on the edge of the table. The gash
in Ciara’s head leaked a pillow of blood under her head. Darius became frightened that he might’ve hurt Fancy. The baby. But he wasn’t going back to jail for nobody.

  Ashlee’s voice echoed in Darius’s mind, “I have lots of scars, emotionally and physically, to remind me of you. How many scars do you have to remind you of me?” Darius didn’t want to scar Fancy.

  “Fancy, wait, don’t. I’m sorry. Baby, please don’t leave,” Darius pleaded, watching Fancy stumble about the bedroom, hopping on one leg, trying to put on her pants. Darius shut the bedroom door from the outside, raced to the kitchen, grabbed Fancy’s goblet, picked her pills up off the floor, blowing them off en route back to the bedroom. “Here, you were about to take these,” he said, handing her the glass and pills.

  “Get the hell out of my way!” Fancy screamed.

  Swallowing both pills at once, she gulped down the juice, then hurled the crystal goblet at Darius’s head. “Bastard!”

  Darius ducked. The glass shattered against the wall. He stood nodding, grateful she’d missed.

  She buttoned her blouse, the right side hanging lower. “Darius,” she cried, “how could you keep something like this from me! You’re still fucking Ashlee and God knows who else! And you’re having unprotected sex! Why! Darius, why! I gave you all the pussy you wanted. Good pussy. Ass too! Lap dances. Everything. Wasn’t I enough for you?” Fancy fell facefirst onto the bed, crying into the cover.

  Falling to his knees beside Fancy, Darius cried too. “I’m sorry, Ladycat, but I swear on my grandmother’s grave. I haven’t been with Ashlee since she got pregnant or anyone else since, since…” Ma Dear, please forgive me. Darius placed his hand on Fancy’s spine, promising himself he never wanted to hurt Fancy this way again.

  “Since, since when! You can’t even get your lie straight. Don’t touch me! Get away from me! I can’t bring a child into this madness.” Rolling over, Fancy peered into Darius’s eyes, crying harder. Her body moved in wavelike motions of convulsions as she layered her hands over her stomach. “I’m having an abortion and that’s final.”