When Somebody Loves You Back

by Mary B. Morrison

  “That’s fine,” Jada agreed.

  Gladly, Darius dropped his mom off at the hospital first, drove his dad back to his mom’s house, then headed home. Cruising into his driveway, he spotted Ciara parking in front of his house.

  “Damn, I forgot she was coming over with lil’ man today.”

  Approaching her car, he said, “Hey, you’re looking good.”

  Ciara sported a slappin’ new, at least new to him, hairstyle, slicked on the sides, loosely curled on top, cut close along her neckline. She’d lost a few pounds too.

  “Hi, Darius. This is my son, Solomon.”

  That kid was definitely breast-feeding. Ciara’s double-Ds had enlarged to a triple. Man, was that what having a kid did for a woman? If his HIV test was negative, he was tearing Ciara’s pussy up the first chance she’d give him. Darius didn’t care if he was married, fucking his wife on the regular. He couldn’t say no to his ex-wife. Darius vowed never to jam his Johnson raw again. Fucking familiar pussy wasn’t cheating. Ciara’s pussy had his name stamped on it and he had unlimited access. At least he’d hope so.

  Holding Solomon, Darius tickled his stomach. “Hey, lil’ man. What’s up?”

  Solomon smiled, drooling on Darius’s new shirt.

  Darius looked at Ciara. “I only stopped home to pack.”

  “You’re leaving?” Ciara asked, drying Solomon’s lips with his bib.

  “Yeah, but I’ll be back. Gotta go to ATL to take my NBA physical. Got a lot on my mind these days.” Especially the fact that his forty-eight hours expired tonight.

  “I can just about imagine. Well, I can help,” Ciara said, handing Darius a white letter-sized envelope.

  Grasping the edge, Darius quizzically stared at Ciara. “You sure this is gonna help? What is it?”

  Ciara smiled, then said, “Your divorce papers.”

  One eyebrow lifted, the other lowered. “Are you serious?” Darius said, grinning and inserting his finger into the opening. Unfolding the certified document, he kissed Ciara on her succulent lips. Those were his lips. “Whoa. You have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Yes, I do. Now get to Atlanta,” Ciara said, reaching for Solomon.

  “You can hang out with Solomon another time. Call me and let me know what your doctor says. If you need me to do anything, let me know.”

  Darius’s spirit filled with appreciation. Why the sudden change of heart with Ciara? He would definitely call her when he returned and, as promised, hang out with Solomon. Maybe Ciara would let him be Solomon’s godfather. When Ciara drove off, the mailman drove up, handing Darius several envelopes. Sitting in his car, he selected the letter from Texas Superior Court, then placed the others in the passenger seat. “What’s this?” Hopefully not another woman claiming he was the father of her child. “I’ll open this piece later.”

  Looking up the driveway, he saw an unfamiliar car entering, parking where Ciara’s car once was. Darius peeped through his windshield. The woman got out of the car, wobbling up to his window.

  “Caroline?” he asked, already knowing but not believing his eyes.

  “Who else?” Caroline said, handing him an envelope. “Fancy asked me to hand-deliver this to you.”

  Reaching for the package, Darius said, “Can you come inside for a moment?”

  “Sure. For a moment. I’ve got things to do.”

  Frowning, Darius asked, “How soon before your delivery? Is Fancy still going to adopt your baby?” Darius escorted Caroline through the front door. He wanted to know Fancy’s decision because he didn’t want an instant family unless the kid was his. Darius sat on the sofa beside Caroline, placing the envelope on the table.

  “No, I might not be the perfect mother but I’m a better person than when I raised Fancy.”

  “Ms. Taylor, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt your daughter. I love Fancy.”

  “Men never mean to hurt us but somehow always do. Fancy loves you. In many ways you’ve opened her heart. And sometimes we make people better persons, not for ourselves but for others.”

  Swallowing hard, Darius asked, “What are you saying?”

  “For the first time, my daughter and I have a real relationship. I saw how happy she was with you and thought, why can’t I make my daughter happy? Not like you. Like a mother should. All she ever wanted was for me to love her back. So when you hurt her the most, I loved her the most.”

  “Wow.” Darius blinked repeatedly. “So how is she? I wanted to call her—”

  Caroline interrupted. “But. Real men never have buts. Other men always have a but. An excuse. Or some sort of distorted justification for their lame attempts to explain what they were gonna do. Problem is, the but never ends up with them accepting responsibility for their actions, so as far as I’m concerned, you can save your buts for someone else. Not my daughter. If you love my daughter, show her, let her know. If you don’t, no buts, let her go.” Caroline paused, stood, then said, “You might want to open that envelope first, then listen, don’t talk at her, or counter everything she says or cut her off when she’s trying to explain. Call her, before it’s too late. I’ve gotta go. Take care of yourself, Mr. Williams. Oh yeah. One more thing. Money buys opportunities, not happiness. And damn sure nuff not my daughter.”

  Darius was speechless, watching Fancy’s mother leave. She’d gained a lot of weight but looked really healthy. Her self-esteem was high and Darius could feel the love Caroline displayed for Fancy. Staring at the package, he debated on opening it, or calling Fancy. Either could make him love Fancy more or less.

  Picking up his cell phone, Darius dialed Fancy’s number.

  “Hi, I take it you’ve read my letter,” she answered.

  “Naw, not yet. Ladycat, before you say anything else, I need to see you.”

  “Didn’t you get my package?”

  “Yes, but I mean, I need to hear what happened at the hospital.”

  “Darius, it doesn’t matter. All you care about is yourself.”

  “Don’t say that. Ladycat, please give me another chance.”

  “To do what? Use me? The way you used Ashlee? Look, I’ve got to go. I wish you well. And press star seventy-three on your home phone. I’m tired of getting your crazy messages from Ashlee. I saved the most important one on my phone in case I decide to…since you didn’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe her. Oh, and I want to thank you for helping me find my true love. Bye, Darius.”

  Darius remained silent but hopeful as the da-doop resonated from his blue-tooth headset, ending their conversation.

  Hopefully, not showing up in Atlanta hadn’t squashed his deal. Darius decided to enlist his parents for help. Opening the envelope, he read Dear Darius…First, I’ve enclosed all of your keys: homes and cars…This is no way to start a marriage, so to finalize everything, I’m taking back my heart and I’m giving you back your ring.

  Rolling the diamond between his thumb and fingers, Darius wasn’t giving up that easily. The letter was Fancy’s way of venting while pleading to get back together. True love didn’t end with words on paper. Fancy would have to prove to Darius that she didn’t love him the way he loved her.

  CHAPTER 25

  Darryl

  If every breathing body didn’t have a personal agenda, shame on them for being live bait, suckered, used. Second chances didn’t always come. Best to make relationships work the first time around if one was genuinely interested. Twenty-plus years had passed since Darryl felt his dick inside Jada.

  Often, months, years, lifetimes divided lovers: coast-to-coast marriages, unwanted spouses, commitments to the kids, careers, family values, new homes, and the list went on. Regardless of the circumstances, distant lovers were doomed. No man would abstain from having sex simply because he was in love. A woman was different. She could go without riding, rubbing, or sniffing a dick for a whole year if she believed her man was monogamous too. But if the lovers were in close proximity, no more than a few cities or miles a
part, close enough to get it on, on the regular, they could maintain some sorta relationship.

  Glad his only obstacle was getting Jada to say yes, Darryl decided to reunite with the only woman he’d loved. Jada was beautiful, wealthy, and on the verge of becoming a widow. Darryl had respected his body. Easily he could subtract ten years off his age. He was happily divorced; unfortunately broke.

  Broke to a millionaire wasn’t the same as to a nine-to-five employee living paycheck to paycheck. What Darryl disliked most, his lifestyle had diminished. Working for Darius significantly improved his bottom line. Not nearly enough. Thankfully, Darryl a plan. An agenda.

  Once Darius signed his NBA contract, Darryl would become his agent, traveling around the country during basketball season. Darryl would groom Kevin to take over his position at Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top, and together they could focus on creating their own empire. God blessed the child who had his own.

  Any man could see there was something special about Jada. A few decades ago, if he weren’t young, cold, callous, careless, arrogant, inconsiderate, and selfish, he would’ve married her then instead of acting a fool, running away from his obligations only to settle with a woman who didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of until the judge awarded her a huge settlement. It was easier for Darryl to play the reverse psychology game, piss Jada off by saying Darius wasn’t his child, then move on with his life, never calling her again and hoping she’d do the same.

  Like father, like son. When it came to women, Darius was his clone. Darryl knew it when he’d shown up at one of Darius’s elementary school basketball games. Darryl was married. Jada was married to Lawrence. Wellington was at the game sitting beside Jada. Darryl felt useless that Jada didn’t need him, so he signed Darius’s autograph, then pretended he didn’t know that Darius was his son. Darryl especially knew Darius was his when he’d heard his son tell Fancy, “All you bitches are just alike.” Verbatim, those were the regrettable words Darryl had spoken to Jada when she’d said, “I called to tell you I’m pregnant.”

  “And?” he had questioned, knowing damn well he could’ve been the father. But another baby didn’t fit into his paycheck. That would’ve cramped his leisure trips around the world with new pussy on every layover.

  “And what?” Jada had defensively asked.

  “So who’s the father? Not me. I know because I pulled my snake out of your pussy the last time we fucked.”

  Fucked. Naw, Darryl never fucked Jada. Every time they were together he made love to her. Last night was beautiful as he prayed for many more nights of holding her in his arms. Darryl was patient, passionate, and attentive to her every desire. Basically that was all women wanted. Attention. Appreciation. Affection. But it was Jada who fucked up back then when she decided she couldn’t wait for him to make a commitment. Darryl had lived for the day his perks would roll in, showering him with groupies riding his dick, two, three, four, the more the merrier, dippers in his bed at a time taking turns. Darryl was happy as hell back then. Jada would’ve been miserable like his ex-wife, who still complained about giving him the best years of her life. Whose fault was that? She could afford to start all over. He couldn’t.

  “Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure it isn’t yours.”

  That meant Jada had been double-dippin’ between Wellington and him. What man wanted to lay claims to a maybe baby and risk finding out nine months later it wasn’t his?

  “Well, look-a-here. Call me when you’re ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent sure. I know the routine all too well. I thought you were different, but all you bitches are just alike…You’d better call Wellington—Mr. lover-boy, financial adviser—Jones and let him foot the bill. I don’t believe this bullshit. Pregnant?”

  Darryl couldn’t undue what he’d done, but he’d straight-up punked out. Voluntarily allowed another man to raise his son until all the hard work was done. The foundation was laid. The house was built. Wellington had raised Darius from day one. All Darryl had done was exterior decorating, making his fatherly roll pleasing to the eye while his son was still fucked up on the inside.

  Darryl sat in the waiting room with Jada and Darius. He felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. Jada was still as beautiful as the day he’d met her. She shouldn’t have had to raise Darius without him. Nodding, Darryl thought, she did it all. Without him. Never complained. And she’d done a hell of a job. If he could do it all over again, things would be different. Yesterday was gone, but he had today, and hopefully tomorrow, if Jada and Darius would allow him full-time involvement in their lives, irrespective of Wellington’s outcome.

  Interrupting his thoughts, Darius said, “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yes, Son.”

  “I need your help.”

  “Anything, Son.” After all these years he still had a chance to make a difference.

  The nurse entered, saying, “Mrs. Tanner, your husband is asking for you.”

  Jada stood slowly. No smile accompanied her underlying glow.

  “Ma, you want me to go with you?” Darius asked, springing to his feet. “This is why I came back. To be here for you.”

  “No, baby,” Jada softly replied, “I’ll be all right. But you can come in later and talk to Wellington.”

  While Darius gave Jada a long embrace, Darryl wanted to ask Jada to ask Wellington if it was okay for a quick visit. Darryl had never thanked Wellington for raising his son, but he wanted to. Maybe this wasn’t a good time.

  “No matter how long, Ma, I’ll be right here when you come back. If you need me, send the nurse. I love you.”

  Darryl felt the love-filled tears between Jada’s and Darius’s eyes, making his eyes watery too.

  After Jada departed with the nurse, Darryl asked, “What is it, Son?”

  “What’s what? Oh, my assistant coach said I had to be back in Atlanta for my physical with the team doctor by tonight.”

  “Or?”

  “Or I’m losing my contract.”

  “Nonsense.” Nothing was lost in faith. Darryl had to protect his interest. Darryl never believed in speaking with anyone who wasn’t in a position to make a final decision, so he bypassed the assistant and went straight to the head coach. If necessary, Darryl would call the manager and the owner. He pulled out his cell phone, scrolled through his phone book, and placed a call to an associate who happened to be the head coach.

  “Yeah, hey, what’s up?” Darryl nodded.

  “Everything’s great,” the head coach replied. “What’s up with you, Williams?”

  “At the hospital with my son. We have a family emergency and it’d be appreciated if he could have another week or two to take his physical.”

  “Sure thing. I believe in family values. You know that. I’ll tell my assistant, but we can’t give Darius more than one week.”

  “He’ll be there. Thanks,” Darryl said, hanging up. Looking at Darius he said, “You have one week.”

  “Straight up? How’d you do that?”

  “People respect me. It’s not what you do. It’s how you do it. That’s what I keep trying to teach you. You divorce Ciara yet?”

  Darius nodded. “She handed me my papers today. I’m a free man.”

  Once less item on Darryl’s to-do list. “Let me see,” Darryl demanded.

  Frowning, Darius said, “I left them at home. You don’t trust me either?”

  “I trust you. I don’t trust her. Speaking of trust, how do you feel about Kevin working for me?”

  Shaking his head, Darius answered, “Hell no, end of conversation. Changing the subject, Fancy had an abortion.”

  “Son, pro-choice does not apply to men. Abortion is a woman’s prerogative as well as everything else she does. There’s nothing on earth more complex than a woman. She wants you to figure her out. You can’t control her. That was Fancy’s choice. But I will say that you must’ve done something to make her feel you wouldn’t be there for them. No woman wants to raise a kid alone.”

  “But Mom sai
d Fancy is claiming I gave her abortion pills.”

  “Did you?”

  Shaking his head, Darius said, “No, all I gave her was the same two aspirins that she was getting ready to take when I walked into the kitchen.”

  Darryl drilled Darius with, “If she was getting ready to take the pills, then why did you have to give them to her? Start from the beginning.”

  “It all started when I didn’t change my locks, and Ashlee was in my house when Fancy and I returned, but Fancy never knew Ashlee was there…”

  Darryl laughed.

  “What’s funny, Dad? This is serious.”

  “You’re right. This is serious. You need to grow up. I’m surprised that to be a so-called playa, you know nothing about women. Son, Ashlee put the abortion pills in the aspirin bottle.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Darius

  “Come on, baby, move your ass,” Darius said.

  Midafternoon traffic was bumper-to-bumper on the loop. Abruptly hitting her brakes every few seconds, the woman in front of him couldn’t keep up with the flow. “I bet she’s a bad fuck,” Darius said, tuning the radio to 102.5. Rush hour was not his preferred bump-’n-grind.

  “This is Michael Baisden. The Bad Boy of Radio coming at you. Today’s topic is Sex 101. Ladies, does your man know what he’s doing in the bedroom? Call me now at 1-866…”

  Although Michael said “Ladies,” Darius couldn’t resist dialing in. Waiting for someone to answer, he said, “Hell no. That’s why I get so much pussy.”

  “Caller, you’re on, who is this?”

  “Slugger,” Darius arrogantly said.

  “So I take it you know what you’re doing in your bedroom.”

  “Man, I don’t need a bedroom. All I require is a female volunteer. Mike, check this out. Male or female, you can spot a bad lover a mile away. I’ll give you three examples. First, observe everything about how they eat. While not preferred, sloppy can be a good thing, but what you’re looking for is patience and passion. Pay attention to the rhythm of their walk. Slouchy, lazy, or sluggish is all bad and if they use their hands to get up from a chair, their legs are weak and you’ll end up doing all the work. Then, ask ’em their wildest sexual fantasy. Pay attention to the details. If a man says he wants to do a ménage à trois and stop there, he’s clueless and has zero imagination.”