Destination Wedding

by Jacqueline J. Holness

“You do what? Have you lost your mind?” I spat, unable to contain myself any longer. “What if you get caught? You could lose your job!”

  “You don’t think I know that, Whit?” Again, he turned to me briefly, like I was a fly that needed to be swatted away, before turning back toward CC. “I’ve been trying to stop ever since you asked me about it!”

  “That’s because it’s an addiction, dear,” CC said calmly, unfazed by the outburst. “I want to continue to see the both of you, but in order for my services to be effective, we’re going to have to address your pornography addiction too, Richie dear.”

  After placing her notes on the table next to her, she got up and walked over to a large file credenza. She pulled out some multicolored pamphlets and handed them to Richie before she sat down.

  “That is information about Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous,” she said. “It’s a twelve-step program to help people recover from those addictions. You must commit to going to these meetings.”

  “Twelve-step meetings?” I exclaimed. “I thought only crazy people went to meetings. Why can’t you address this issue in counseling?”

  “I can address some of the root causes in counseling, but he is going to need support from other addicts to help him get well, because he is sick.”

  “My husband is not an addict, he’s not some dope fiend, and he is definitely not sick,” I said, trying to summon all of the persuasive authority I used in a courtroom. “Look at him. He’s a doctor at Grady Hospital. He helps sick people get well. He is not sick.”

  “Dear, just because you cannot see his injuries doesn’t mean he is any less sick than one of his patients at a hospital. And all addicts are sick. His drug of choice just happens to be pornography.”

  I wanted to continue to argue my case, but I noticed Richie hadn’t said a word in his own defense. I looked over at him, and he was actually engrossed in reading the pamphlets CC had given him.

  “If everyone is talking about sex, how bad it can be?” he said with an annoying grin. “I could at least try one meeting, right Whit?”

  “Well, dear, you’re in luck,” she said, clapping her hands together. “There’s a Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous group that meets just down the hallway from me. I gave you a schedule so you can go to their next meeting if you like.”

  “Thanks,” Richie said.

  • • •

  When I woke up the next morning, I felt groggy with oversleep, but I jumped out of bed, realizing that I was late to make breakfast. But then I smelled food and heard laughing. I plodded downstairs and into the kitchen where I saw Richie with the twins and Gwenaëlle. The babies were babbling, moving their chubby arms up and down while Gwenaëlle fed them in their high chairs. Richie’s back was turned to me, but he must have heard me because he spun around.

  “Whit, I didn’t want to wake you up because you looked like you were getting some good sleep,” he said as kissed me on the cheek. “I’ve saved some bacon and eggs on the stove for you. I wish I could eat with you, but I’m heading out in a minute.”

  “What?” I rubbed my eyes. “I thought you only golfed on Saturday mornings.”

  “I’m going to one of those meetings,” he whispered in my ear before pinching my derrière.

  I wanted to be happy because of his change of attitude, but I was more annoyed than ever.

  Mimi

  Erebody had been calling me crazy for the longest, but no one called me a felon until April. An hour and a half after I got home from the “Nightline: Face-Off” debate, while Jarena was in the bathroom getting ready to crash at my place since she said she was too nervous to drive home, a police officer showed up at my door. I thought about ignoring his knock, but I figured he knew I was there because the front-desk security officers of my condominium building probably told him so.

  “Hello Mr. Officer,” I said, slinging my locs and putting my hand on my hip. “Can I help you with something, sir?”

  “Are you Mimi Gayle?” the thick white officer said, without changing his expression.

  I nodded.

  “You are under arrest for aggravated assault and terroristic threats.”

  I kept nodding like a bobblehead as he read me my rights and brought out handcuffs. I tried to think of somethin’ I could say to make him smile, especially since I knew he didn’t know Mimi the Mid-Day Motivator. But all I could think of to say was, “At least I have on clean drawls.” I saw somethin’ change in his eyes, but no smile.

  Damn.

  “Mimi, this is not the time for jokes, and please don’t say anything else PLEASE,” Jarena said she walked up to us and looked at his badge. “Hello, Officer Lucas, I’m Mimi’s friend Jarena Johnson. If you don’t mind, I will follow the two of you to the police station. On second thought, would you mind giving me a second to call her attorney?”

  • • •

  In a heartbeat, I was booked into jail. When it was time to take my mug shot, I smized when the camera flashed so my mug shot would at least be sexy. The worst part was the full-body search. But my attorney worked it out so that I could get out in a few hours because I posted a property bond with the special condition that I not have any more “violent contact” with Jovan and his hoe. So after all dat bullshit, I was allowed to go home. My attorney also worked it so that I didn’t even have to go trial. I paid a fine and had to do some community service. I was surprised that I didn’t regret anything I did, but maybe I was numb, because it was like watching a story from someone else’s life.

  And that wasn’t the end of the story. Being that I am kinda a celebrity in town, my mug was all up in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, splashed on the local television news, and talked about by all of the jocks at the other urban radio stations the next day. But the blogs really did me in, specially Dee Daisy, that trick…

  “Mimi Gayle Wears Butt Pads to Jail”

  KISS 103 Jock Miriam “Mimi” Gayle was arrested last night for aggravated assault and terroristic threats after she allegedly rammed her Jeep Wrangler into A Shawty Records owner Jovan Parker’s Expedition. Mimi, in a jealous rage, hit Jovan’s car several times as he was allegedly in the vehicle with his recording artist and girlfriend Chula Ramirez… One of my sources at the police station told me that a full-body search revealed that Mimi was wearing butt pads, and she begged officers not to reveal her secret.

  I didn’t wear butt pads all of the time, but I wore them sometimes to events so my booty would be on point. It’s hella hard being a black girl with a flat booty.

  But that wasn’t the end of the story. Before I saw Angela, I already knew it was the end of my career at KISS 103, but I showed up at the station two days after I was arrested anyway.

  “Well, Mimi, you’ve had a quite weekend.”

  “I guess you could say that.” I tried to crack a smile, but the look on her face stopped me.

  “Mimi, I hired you because of your talent, even though I heard how you crazy you were at V-104. And I have tried to harness that talent since we’ve been working together. I don’t know if you see me as a mentor, but I have seen you as a protégé.”

  “Angela, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” I didn’t even try to stop my tears. It was the first time I felt anything since that night.

  “I know you’re sorry, Mimi, and I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to let you go. You’re a dynamic radio personality. One of the best. But this isn’t what you need to be doing with your life. You need to straighten out your personal life, and once you do that, I know that a career will be waiting for you.”

  She handed me some tissues and a business card. I blew my nose and tried to look at the card.

  “That is a card for a career counselor and psychologist I know. Her name is Dr. Catherine Cleghorne. Please make an appointment with her. She can help get to the bottom of what’s going on with you, Mimi.”

  I hadn’t thought about calling CC when Senalda introduced us to her on a phone call at the beginning of April. But now that her c
ard was handed to me while I was getting the boot from my gig, maybe God was tryin’ to tell me something, as Jarena would say.

  • • •

  During my first career counseling session with CC weeks later, she recommended that I start going to Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous meetings.

  “Anyone who continually pursues a romantic relationship that puts their safety and security in jeopardy is not in love. That person is in addiction, dear,” she said.

  At first, I was like, Bullshit. But then I read the pamphlet with questions for self-diagnosis. Some of those questions described me for real.

  “Have you ever threatened your financial stability or standing in the community by pursuing a sexual partner?”

  “Does your sexual and/or romantic behavior affect your reputation?”

  “Do you find yourself unable to stop seeing a specific person even though you know that seeing this person is destructive to you?”

  Shit, that’s me.

  • • •

  I was scared as hell to go to my first meeting, so I didn’t go until June. But I got a sponsor, Victor, my first day. The first thing that Victor recommended was that I attend ninety meetings in ninety days. So almost two months had passed since shit hit the fan, and I felt better. But like they say in the rooms,

  “While I’m in a meeting, my disease is out in the parking lot doing push-ups.”

  Destination Wedding Meeting #6

  Luckie Lounge was the spot for their sixth meeting. Whitney convinced Senalda that a club outing would allow her to observe her single friends in action with men and give them some feedback about how to successfully interact with them. Senalda wasn’t convinced that was Whitney’s real reason for wanting to hang at the club, but Jarena and Mimi agreed to meet there, so it was go. Plus, it was Friday and Dexter was with his boys at J.R. Crickets as usual.

  Seated in a plush black-vinyl booth, Senalda, Jarena, and Mimi attempted to catch up over the club’s booming music until Whitney rushed toward them.

  “Do my ladies run this mutha?” she said rolling her neck and yelling loud enough for other people to turn and stare at her. “Hell yeah!”

  The three women looked at each other with their eyebrows collectively raised. Not only was Whitney’s language out of the norm for the self-professed Southern belle, she was wearing a strapless black leather dress with her breasts nearly spilling out, and spiked heels.

  “Have you been drinking?” Jarena asked.

  “Really? All you need is a whip, Whitney the Dominatrix!” Senalda said. “I know you like to be sexy, but you look sexy scary! What’s going on with you tonight?”

  “And you have nothing to say?” Whitney said to Mimi as she reached the table.

  “Sho don’t,” Mimi said after she sipped water.

  The three of them turned to Mimi and stared for a moment before Senalda and Jarena refocused on Whitney again.

  “What’s up with your new look?” Senalda asked.

  “I mean if Richie can look at pornography anywhere or anytime he wants to, then I can wear a black leather dress and spiked heels. And I might just to have to buy a whip too! Maybe that’s the type of woman he wants anyway.” She sat down with a thud in the booth. “So what is everybody drinking?”

  She motioned for a waitress to come over. “Please refresh all of my friends’ drinks, and I want a vodka martini.”

  The waitress nodded and left the table.

  “Drinks on me for the rest of the night, ladies,” she said. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a club. Where are the cute boys? I’m going to dance with somebody tonight.”

  “You never answered my question,” Jarena said. “Have you already been drinking!? Because you are off the chain tonight!”

  “Married ladies know how to have fun too,” she said. “I see a cute boy over there. Watch me in action, ladies. You may need to take notes. I’ll be back. Or maybe I won’t!”

  In silence, they watched Whitney slither out of their booth and over to group of men who looked young enough to be in college. She stood directly in front of the light-skinned, curly-haired one who looked like he could pass for a younger version of Richie.

  • • •

  “You are so cute,” Whitney said to the young man in front of her. “Do you want to dance with me?”

  “Are you talking to me, ma’am?” the young man said, pointing to himself before looking at his friends on either side. He was still young enough to have that skittish colt look that young men who haven’t had a lot of experience with women have.

  Whitney nodded. “Yes, you,” she said with an overexaggerated smile.

  His friends chuckled and hit him in the chest, egging him on.

  “Okay,” he said, returning her smile with a demure one.

  She gyrated in front of him, maneuvering her hips from side to side while the young man stood a few inches away. He danced too, but his motions were measured, obviously practiced before the club outing with his boys.

  “What’s wrong?” Whitney asked. “Never danced with a grown woman before? Let me show you what to do.”

  She reached out her arms, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Move your hips with my hips.” He attempted to follow her lead, but his slim hips never caught up to her fuller ones. Suddenly, he stepped away from her, stopped dancing and shook his head.

  “I knew you looked familiar!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re Mrs. Duvernay-Brannon, aren’t you?”

  Whitney stopped dancing and said, “Yes, who are you?”

  “I’m Darwin. You were my baby sister’s mentor for the AKA debutante program last year,” he said. “Wait till I tell my mom and sister that I danced with you at Luckie Lounge!”

  Whitney offered a stiff smile and said, “I wish you wouldn’t. Okay, I have to go.”

  She spun around and bolted, but not before hearing, “Darwin got the young and old ladies wantin’ him.”

  • • •

  “That was quick,” Senalda said, once Whitney got into earshot.

  “It was a complete disaster, just like my marriage right now.” She slid back into the booth, took a sip of her drink and sighed.

  “What happened?” Jarena asked.

  “That boy’s mother knows me,” Whitney said. “I’m so embarrassed! What are my sorority sisters going to think whey they find out?”

  “Find out what?” Senalda asked.

  “His mother is one of the officers of my chapter. He’s going to tell her that I looked like a hooker and dirty danced with him! The horror!”

  “And why are you wearing that getup tonight?” Senalda said. “And the truth this time.”

  Whitney told them that CC diagnosed Richie with a pornography addiction.

  “And he admitted he is also watching pornography at the hospital,” Whitney said. “And he says he can’t stop. I’m so mad I could spit.”

  “But CC is going to help, right?” Senalda said. “That is what you are paying her to do!”

  “Yes, she says she can help him and us,” Whitney said, “but between being a mother of twins and getting back to work, I don’t want to have to deal with this too.”

  “I went to see CC too,” Mimi chimed in. “But I went in April after my ass was fired.”

  “You were what?” Senalda screeched. “What happened?”

  “I haven’t been on the air in two months,” Mimi said. “I guess you weren’t one of my listeners.”

  “And I guess you didn’t see her mug shot with the accompanying story in the AJC either?” Jarena said.

  “Is this a joke?” Senalda said. “You were fired and you have a mug shot?!”

  Mimi and Jarena recounted the ordeal for their friends.

  “It’s all good, dough,” Mimi said. “I’ve been seeing CC every two weeks since then, and I’m not even mad at what happened. I was tired of being a deejay anyway, so she’s helping me think about other thangs I can do. Plus I got savings so I’m
straight for a while.”

  “And what about Jovan?” Senalda asked. “That’s one good thing that came from that mess. I know you’re done with him now.”

  “I’m just taking it one day a time,” Mimi said.

  Senalda was about say something more to Mimi when she saw a group of men pass by her and sit in a booth a few feet away.

  “I think Dexter was with those guys,” Senalda said. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

  • • •

  As Senalda was approaching Dexter from the left to where he sat, another woman beat her to him. He got up, hugged the woman and whispered something in her ear. Senalda briefly considered turning back toward her booth before he saw her, but she continued her stride, determined to not go home wondering whether Dexter was seeing this woman.

  “Hey Dexter,” Senalda said just as the two loosened their embrace.

  “Hey Senalda,” he said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I thought you and your boys were at J.R. Crickets every Friday night,” she countered.

  “Yeah, we decided to change it up tonight,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. “This is one of my high school buddies, Felicia. And these are my boys. This is Senalda.”

  They all waved toward her, and Felicia walked away from the group.

  “Can I talk to you over there for a second?” Senalda said, pointing away from the men.

  “Okay,” Dexter said.

  He followed her to the club lobby where the music wasn’t as loud.

  “I thought Friday night was guys night out at a sports bar, but it looks like Friday night is really get together with the guys and look for new women night.” She mentally prepared herself to go off while waiting for Dexter’s response.

  “What are you talking about? This is my first time here, and I haven’t seen Felicia since I graduated from Mays High.”

  “Is our relationship exclusive?” Senalda demanded.

  “You are the only woman I’m seeing,” he said, getting closer to her. “But I do need time to hang with the fellas, okay? You are here with your friends!”

  Senalda’s scowl lasted for a few more seconds, the residual effect of thinking he was playing her. But after looking into his eyes, her scowl dissolved.