When Somebody Loves You Back

by Mary B. Morrison

  CHAPTER 42

  Jada

  With the exception of going to the bathroom, Jada stayed in bed. Restless. Seldom sleeping. Time went by, incapacitating her emotions. It was like she’d been sucked into the belly of a whale, waiting for life to digest her spirit. The spirit that once moved her was the only thing sustaining her. If it weren’t for Darius, Jada didn’t know what she’d do.

  Her limp flesh sank into the sheets. The same sheets Wellington last slept on. No desire to escape the mammal’s stomach, Jada felt infantlike. Inside she knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t effectively communicate. If she stayed in bed until the sun set again, Wellington’s services would be over.

  “Honey, try to drink this broth Jazzmyne made for you while it’s warm. You need something on your stomach,” Darryl said, trying to raise her into a sitting position.

  Jada backhanded the cup. “Uh-uh.”

  Setting the cup on the nightstand, Darryl pleaded, “But you have to eat something. You haven’t eaten in days.”

  “I’ll feed her,” Darius said, entering the room.

  “Son, when did you get back?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It won’t help. She’s been like this since she realized you left.”

  “Then why didn’t you call me?”

  “Why didn’t you call?” Darryl countered.

  “Move,” Darius said angrily.

  “Make me,” Darryl said.

  “Darius?” Jada uttered, lifting her head. “Sweetie, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Ma. It’s me. I told you I’d be back.” Darius eased his arm under her waist, sliding her back against the pillows, then picked up the cup. “Ma, open your mouth. For your sweetie. Come on. Come on, Ma.”

  Weakly Jada separated her lips as wide as she could, enough for him to set the cup on her bottom lip and pour the liquid inside. Slowly she swallowed. The salty juices streamed down her throat. “Uh-uh.”

  “I need you to finish it, Ma.” Darius paused, then said, “That’s my girl.” Looking at Darryl, Darius said, “I got her, Dad. Give us some time alone. I’ll help her get dressed for the funeral.”

  Jada allowed and wanted Darius to be the one to take care of her. In a way, she’d waited for his return. Darius uncovered her body.

  “Ma, you’re fully dressed.” Sniffing, he said, “Aw, Ma. These are the same clothes you had on when I left.”

  Placing her feet on the floor, Darius said, “On three, I want you to stand up. One. Two. Three.” He lifted his mother, supporting her with his upper body.

  Jada took tiny steps to the bathroom as Darius sat her on the toilet with her clothes on, then began drawing her bathwater.

  “I look a mess, don’t I?” Jada said, looking at her reflection in the ceiling-to-floor mirror.

  “Naw, Ma. You look beautiful.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No. I mean that. You’re beautiful. Inside and out. Now we have to get you cleaned up. The funeral is today.”

  Darius undressed her, helped her into the tub, then gently washed her body.

  “Okay, Ma. I need you to wash the lower half. I’m not going down there. Here’s the towel. Make sure you wash really good.”

  Helping her out of the Jacuzzi, Darius dried his mother off, wrapped a dry towel around her body, then sat her on the side of the bed. He went to the closet, selected a black dress, shoes, and underwear, then placed them at her side.

  “Ma, I’m going to take a quick shower and change and then I’ll be right back. I need you to be my girl and dress yourself, okay?”

  “He’s here, sweetheart.”

  “Who?” Darius asked, looking around the room.

  “Wellington. He’s here. I can feel him. He’s proud of you.”

  “Okay, then you talk to him while you’re getting dressed, Ma. I’ll be right back.”

  When Darius closed the door, Jada had a private conversation with her husband. Death hadn’t ended their relationship.

  “I know you’re listening. I want you to know that no man can ever take your place. You’re my angel now. And what’s done is done. Can’t say I understand, but it’d do me no good to become bitter or hold on to anger and jealousy when you’re not here. Now it’s my turn. And regardless of how you feel about Darryl, you’ll have to get used to him being around. You’ve done your thing. You were a sneak about it, but you damn sure nuff lived as you damn well pleased and I’m going to do the same until we meet again. I’m not going to be alone or lonely. I don’t want to meet somebody new. And I’m surely not going to be celibate. But what I will do, for me and you, is I will never remarry.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Ashlee

  Hopelessly devoted.

  If she couldn’t move on, she could move away in hopes to one day stop loving Darius. Ashlee intended to board a direct flight. She had no idea where she was going when she arrived at Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport.

  “This is fine,” she said to the taxi driver. Leaning forward to see the meter, Ashlee got out, waited for him to unload her two roll-away suitcases, then handed him exact change. Thirty-five dollars. Never again would she tip a man.

  Bypassing curbside, Ashlee approached the ticket counter, scanned the departing flights, then said, “One way. Washington, Dulles International.”

  “Did you make a reservation?” the agent asked, holding Ashlee’s driver’s license.

  “No, I didn’t.” Momentarily those words haunted Ashlee as she’d recalled lying under oath to the judge.

  Ashlee was thankful, certain that Fancy’s slap didn’t hurt nearly as much as handcuffs. She deserved worse. Darius or Fancy could’ve pressed charges but didn’t. Fancy had forwarded the message to Ashlee after their court session to prove Darius had lied. Once more Darius had protected her. Why?

  As she was fumbling through her purse for her credit card, Ashlee’s phone rang.

  “Excuse me one moment,” she said to the agent, then answered, “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Sweetheart, where are you? I came by, your car is here, but you’re not.”

  “At the airport.”

  “Airport? Where’re you going?”

  Without hesitation, Ashlee said, “I’m not sure.” She had gotten better at lying.

  “Miss, could you step aside until you’re ready?”

  “Bye, Daddy. Sorry, here’s my credit card.”

  After she’d received her boarding pass and cleared security, her flight was preboarding. Ashlee reclined in first class. Waiting for the remaining passengers to take their seats, she closed her eyes.

  The last time Ashlee laid eyes on her son was a few days ago. Darius was nice enough to let her hold him for a few minutes before their flight departed to Los Angeles. They’d met her at a small coffee shop near Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport. Fancy was looking gorgeous, the same way she stepped into the courtroom, fashionable. She was quiet but had already begun exhibiting motherly instincts, holding, feeding, and changing little Darius’s diaper.

  Then Fancy held Ashlee’s hand and said, “Ashlee, I forgive you. I want you to take care of yourself so we can all take care of this little man. And I don’t care what that judge said, this is your son, you are his mother, and you don’t need a court order granting you permission to see him. Our home is your home.” Fancy’s palm was still incredibly soft.

  Ashlee’s heart skipped a beat, but when Fancy tickled little Darius’s chin and his two bottom teeth joyfully smiled at Fancy, Ashlee’s heart stopped. Her eyes filled with tears, she finding it difficult to hate someone who had every right to hate her but didn’t.

  Would Ashlee have to befriend Fancy to have a relationship with her own son? Hopefully not. Clearly Ashlee was better off not being a full-time mother. Fancy had forgiven her for what she’d done, but Ashlee hadn’t forgiven herself. For giving so much to Darius. None of those bad things would’ve happened if Ashlee had only loved herself more than she loved Darius. Ashlee promised herself never to love anyone
more than she loved herself.

  The trip to D.C. was a blur. Hailing a taxi, Ashlee instructed the driver, “Take me to the Mall.”

  “Lady, unless you’re talking about Tyson’s Corner, the Mall isn’t one specific destination. It’s a huge area spanning from the Capitol to the Washington Monument.”

  “Just drive. I’ll tell you where to stop.”

  “It’s your money,” he said, starting his meter and merging onto the freeway.

  When the driver stopped at a red light near the Smithsonian, Ashlee pointed upward. “What’s that?”

  “The Grand Hyatt Hotel.”

  “Take me there.”

  Checking into a suite, Ashlee had the doorman deliver her bags.

  “Where’s a good place for a lady to go out alone?”

  “Depends on what you like but you can’t go wrong with Zanzibar on the Waterfront.”

  Ashlee showered, changed into something sexy but conservative, and headed to the bar for a much-needed drink.

  The woman in the booth said, “Ten dollars please.”

  The man at the door signaled to her, then said to Ashlee, “As fine as you are, I’m personally escorting you to our V.I.P. section,” seating her at a table near the window.

  Scanning the room, Ashlee noticed a sexy chocolate man across the room checking her out. “If he knew what was best for him, he’d keep his tongue in his mouth.” The sight of him made her hot. When was the last time she’d been with a man?

  Trying to ignore him, Ashlee was through with men. For a while anyway. This time she was focusing on her needs and her needs only.

  CHAPTER 44

  Jada

  Jada rechecked Wellington’s office in search of a copy of his living will. The file was mysteriously there. “That’s odd,” she said. She sat at Wellington’s desk, flipping and scanning the heirs and assets. Maybe she’d overlooked it before.

  Melanie Marie Thompson, fifty million dollars! Wellington the Second, Jazzmyne Jones, and Simone Smith, Wellington Jones and Associates. Melanie Marie Thompson, a third ownership in Somebody’s Gotta Be on Top. Jazzmyne Jones, four million dollars, Shelly and Brandon, one million dollars each, from his investment fund. Melanie Marie Thompson, the house in Half Moon Bay.

  Jada slammed the documents on the desk, picked up the phone, and dialed Wellington’s attorney. “Now I see why the messenger never delivered the will. What the hell is this?”

  “Your husband signed the papers before he died. It’s what he wanted.”

  “That is a lie! I’ll sue you and whomever you’re in cahoots with. Namely Melanie Marie Thompson.”

  “Mrs. Tanner, there’s no need for threats. I’ll talk with you when you arrive.”

  Jada hung up the phone, and called Darius.

  “Hi, Ma. I’m pulling up in the driveway.”

  “Don’t turn off your engine, I’m on my way out.” Storming by Darryl, Jada said, “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait, I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not. In fact, you need to leave. Get out.”

  Love or no love, there was no way Darryl would have access or knowledge of her personal worth. And until Jada found out the truth, no one was welcome in her home, including Candice, who was upstairs in the bedroom.

  Darius opened the passenger door and waited until she was seated before closing the door.

  “Ma, what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t believe this shit! This will states that Wellington…” Jada reiterated the details.

  “Ma, let me see,” Darius said, parking in the emergency lane on the freeway. He handed the papers back to her, then merged into traffic. “That’s not Wellington’s signature.”

  “What?”

  “Look at it. I’ve seen his signature many times on my company’s documents. That’s not his signature. Someone else signed that will.”

  “Maybe it looks different because he was sick.”

  “He wasn’t that sick, he pulled his own breathing tube, remember?”

  Jada studied the Ls. One was higher than the other. The W and J were higher than all the other letters. Wellington, being an accountant, aligned everything, including the underwear in his drawer.

  Calmly entering the lawyer’s conference room, Jada walked up to Melanie and said, “When did you sign this? How did you get the document from and back into my house? And I’m not giving you a dime.”

  “You don’t have to. Wellington already has.”

  Darius walked over to Melanie, grabbed her key chain, then stepped back.

  “Give me that!” Melanie yelled, leaning backward over her chair.

  Aligning the key on Melanie’s key ring with the key to his mother’s house on his key chain, Darius said, “Bingo!”

  “Give me my damn keys!”

  “Correction, this key is not yours,” Darius said, removing the key. “Ma, you got your keys to the other houses on you?”

  Jada handed her keys to Darius. After matching up keys to every residence, Darius removed all except two keys from Melanie’s ring.

  Simone interrupted. “I don’t give a damn about her, what did my son’s father leave us?”

  The attorney interrupted. “First we have to determine which trust is valid. Then we have to reschedule a hearing. Today, no one gets anything!”

  “My son needs his tuition paid and my mortgage payments are late, no thanks to y’all! Wellington never would’ve allowed this.” Simone stood, heaving.

  Jada looked at Simone and said, “I don’t owe you anything. Wellington has generously given you more than you deserve and you’ve pissed it off trying to keep up with the Joneses, flying all over the world with your man. Where’s he at? Why can’t he pay your bills for a few months until this is settled?”

  Simone sat in her chair and said, “Because Wellington was my man.”

  “What!” Jada screamed.

  “I mean he was our sole provider. He didn’t mind taking care of us, so I didn’t need another man in my life to take care of us financially. Wellington made sure we never wanted for anything.”

  At that moment, Jada knew her soul mate might not have been perfect, but he had lived his life trying to treat others right.

  Appealing to the attorney, Jada said, “Grant Simone a million-dollar advance against ownership of Wellington Jones and Associates, which will be given in trust to Wellington Jones the Second, Jazzmyne Jones, and Simone Smith, equally.”

  Melanie protested, “What!”

  “Jazzmyne, you can have an advance as well for you and your children.”

  Melanie waved her arms. “Wait a minute!”

  Ignoring Melanie, Jada continued. “Give Melanie Marie Thompson two dollars. On second thought.” Jada reached into her purse and handed Melanie a five-dollar bill.

  Melanie objected, “You crazy bitch!”

  “And place in a trust account one million dollars for Morgan Thompson when she turns twenty-one.”

  “Oh, hell no!” Melanie yelled.

  Darius shouted at Melanie, “Shut up and sit down. Ma, are you sure you want to do this?”

  Calmly Jada said, “No, I’m not sure. I’m positive. This was part of my husband’s last request. I’m honoring some”—Jada looked at Melanie, then continued—“not all of his wishes. Besides, keeping the money won’t make me richer. I’m already rich. I’ve loved you all of my life, Son. And for you to finally love me back, no amount of money could replace that.”

  Looking at Melanie, Jada said, “Oh yeah, I’m not stupid. I know Wellington loved Morgan because he loved you, but I knew before Morgan said her daddy was in the car that she wasn’t Wellington’s child. I suggest you take your five dollars and move on. You don’t have enough money to fight with me. If you challenge me, someone else will have to raise your child because I will file forgery charges.”

  Melanie looked at Simone. “I know she did not just threaten me.”

  “I’m getting paid. You’re on your own. Shouldn’t have fucked up.”
<
br />   “Oh, don’t act like Wellington wasn’t fucking you too,” Melanie said.

  Jada motioned for Darius to accompany her. “Son, let’s go.”

  Driving her home, Darius said, “Ma, that was so generous of you.”

  “Sweetie, money brings opportunities, not happiness.”

  “Whoa, speaking of happiness, I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Darius

  The first shall become last and the last shall become first.

  Ashlee was his first love, and now she was his last. Darius still loved her because she would forever be the mother of his son. Fancy never again would be last. Fancy was his first lady, and for the first time in his life, everything was perfect.

  Darius had grown up. More than he’d imagined. Realizing that it wasn’t the women in life that he didn’t trust. He didn’t trust himself. But because of the women in his life—Fancy, his mother, and Ashlee, in a very special kind of way—he found the spirit of true love.

  Reflecting on his life, he wouldn’t change a thing. Everything that happened to him, good and bad, finally made Darius Jones-Williams a man.

  His mother was not to blame for him not knowing his father. His father was to blame for not being man enough to accept responsibility for his actions. Zen, Miranda, Heather, and Ginger, his mother’s executives, taught Darius that women could be equally as devious as men.

  Maxine. Maxine wasn’t his first true love, she was his first heartbreak, when he discovered she’d cheated on him. But his out-of-control teenage hormones, which didn’t have a clue about marriage or commitment, were to blame for him randomly fucking Kimberly Stokes and other women.

  Society was to blame for his distorted view of relationships. It was okay for a man to marry a good take-home-to-Mama woman while he fucked freaky women on the side. And as long as his wife didn’t find out, he was just, well, being a man. A man with backed-up cum freely donating sperm, but a man who had no balls.

  Darius was happy that Kimberly finally found a career she loved, and that Ciara wasn’t too bitter to help Kimberly or him to grow. Ciara was no saint, but her well-wishes for him were sincere. Darius would keep his word and help Ciara raise Solomon.