by Carl Weber
I made sure that there wasn’t a hint of flirtation in my voice when I told her, “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Her smile grew wider.
“I’m not kidding.” Again, I was trying to sound stern and fatherly, but despite my best efforts, she made me laugh.
“Me either.” She threw it right back at me, refusing to break away.
“You’re something else.” I shook my head, but instead of being embarrassed or shy, she nodded in agreement.
“Scared?” she taunted me.
“No, I’m just try’na stop you from doing something you’ll regret.”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Her whole body swelled up, looking even more ripe and luscious.
“You should be. I’m old enough to be your father.” No man over forty likes to think of himself in those terms, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. This was definitely one of those times.
“But you’re not my father. I have a daddy, and you don’t remind me of him at all.” She burst out in laughter at the look of frustration on my face. Everything about her was so tempting, but for once, I was committed to doing the right thing.
“You need to date men your own age.”
“I don’t like men my own age. Men my age are still trying to find out who they are. I always date older men. They’re more intelligent and confident, they know who they are, and they usually know how to sling it.”
“But men your age have their whole lives ahead of them. They want the same things you want.” Never before had I found myself in a situation like this, actually trying to convince a woman that she didn’t want to get with me.
“How do you know they want the same things as me? Maybe they just want to get laid.”
I felt like telling her that maybe that’s all any man wants, no matter what his age.
“I’m not into a man who doesn’t know where he’s going yet or where his next paycheck is coming from.”
“Oh, so it’s like that? You’re just looking for an older brother with some money in the bank?” In a way, I would have been relieved if she said yes. If she was just looking for a sugar daddy, it would have made it easier for me to cast her aside.
“My father always treated me like a princess, and I like a man who’s able to do that. I’m not a gold digger, but I’m not interested in going to IHOP for dinner on every date or going Dutch at the movies. I want a real man who knows how to take care of a woman. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
She did have a point. When I thought back to my life at twenty, I was a mess. My money was funny, and I kept changing careers, trying to find out exactly what I wanted to be. I couldn’t be mad at a woman who knew what she wanted.
Our conversation was going in circles, with neither of us conceding, and it was nearing game time, so I unlocked the doors and we got out. As we followed the crowd into the stadium, she slipped her hand into mine with a look of pure satisfaction on her face. I didn’t remove my hand from hers. Yeah, I might be in some kind of trouble with this one.
* * *
Sandra looked damn cute in her Lakers cap as we drove home. Not only did the Lakers win, but I was also surprised by what a good time we had together. She was fun, smart, and not afraid of me, even when she should have been. Against my better judgment, I was now envisioning the things I could do to her tight, young body—things that might satisfy my growing lust for her. But if my instincts were right, doing those things would most likely lead to this impressionable young thing becoming the ultimate pain in my ass. However, I was so horny that I couldn’t wait to tear that ass up. When I got finished with her tonight, she was probably going to end up being a stalker.
We rolled up to her place, and I got a parking spot right up front, which was always a good sign. I unhooked my seat belt, taking in what I was about to explore. I was glad I ’d just bought a brand-new pack of condoms—not that I ’d planned on using them with her, of course. But since I had them, no sense in letting them go to waste. As fine as she was, I might just use them all.
“Want me to come up?” I reached for the door handle.
She leaned across the seat, close to me.
“Soon enough.” She placed a hand on my face, pulling my mouth toward hers. Her lips were soft and moist, and although I ’d been kissed by hundreds of women, the sensual way she slipped her tongue into my mouth was like nothing I ’d ever experienced before. Our kiss lasted a full five seconds, and by the time it was over, I felt as if my entire body was on fire. I can honestly tell you I thought I ’d been kissed by the best, but that was before Sandra kissed me.
She pulled away when I went in for more. She stepped out of the car as I sat there, my head still spinning from our first kiss. That’s when I knew I had to have her. I absolutely had to.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“No, I can make it.” She giggled and flashed a beautiful smile. “Thanks for a wonderful night.”
“My pleasure.”
“It will be soon.” She giggled again. “Oh, and you might wanna do something about that when you get home.” She pointed at the lump in my pants, then turned and walked toward her building.
I removed a napkin from my glove compartment and wiped the sweat from my forehead. We hadn’t even done anything and I was perspiring! I had to sit in the car for a few minutes to slow my breathing back down to a normal rate. This girl had me practically panting like a dog.
I realized that I wasn’t too far from a friend’s house. Once Sandra was safely inside her building, I opened my cell and scrolled through my contacts list until I found the number I was looking for.
“Teresa, hey, it’s James. I’m in your neighborhood, and I wondered if you wanted some company…. You do? … See you in five.”
She wasn’t anything close to Sandra, but beggars can’t be choosers when you got a hard dick.
Jamie
19
I slipped the piece of paper out of my wallet and looked at the phone number I had copied off Louis’s phone. I had been holding on to it for a couple of days, but all I could do was stare at it. I damn sure wanted to dial it, but if I was wrong and Louis found out, it would be the end of us. No, I had to find another way to get some answers.
I slipped the paper back in my wallet when my dad’s office door opened and this young couple came out with him, smiling from ear to ear. Dad had been working with them for a while, so I knew their story. The wife couldn’t have been much older than me, but she wore a huge rock on her finger, and her husband looked at her like she was his reason for living. They were at the real estate office because they had put in an offer to buy their first home, and the seller agreed to the amount. Soon, these two young lovebirds would become homeowners.
Her husband gently placed his arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Daddy patted him on the back. The whole scene was so cozy I wanted to scream with jealousy. I wanted to be the one standing there with Louis as we bought our first home. I wanted to have a diamond sparkling on my finger and become Mrs. Louis Kennedy. Instead, I was watching these happy newlyweds as I wondered if my man was up to no good.
I looked on as my father led the couple outside. He always took a big sale out to lunch or dinner, so I knew he wouldn’t come back for a while. I picked up the office phone to save my cell phone minutes.
“Hello?” Aunt Winnie’s voice sounded all deep and smoldering. She was a young forty and the only person on my mother’s side of the family who I spoke to. She was also searching for a husband before her biological clock stopped.
“Hey, Auntie. What, you expecting some man to call?” I joked, but seriously, she was sounding like a bitch in heat. She had to find herself a man, I thought.
“Nah, I’m just tired.”
Yeah, probably tired of being without a man, I thought.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I lied because I wasn’t used to spilling my business with women. I
’d always been able to talk to Daddy or Darnel, although lately, they’d both been pretty much MIA.
So, if I had to call someone, it was Aunt Winnie. She was the closest I ’d ever come to having a real female friend. Growing up, I saw sisters, cousins, coworkers, and best friends stab each other in the back to get some of my daddy, so I ’d always practiced caution when it came to women. I trusted Aunt Winnie more than most, because she and I thought alike; neither of us gave a damn about petty competition or chasing behind losers. We wanted to be with men who respected us and treated us as well as our fathers did.
Yeah, I might as well let her in on my problems, I decided. “Well, it’s not really nothing.”
“What happened?”
“I think Louis is cheating on me.”
“No! Jamie, Louis worships you.” I know she was trying to make me feel better, but I’d seen enough women fooled before to know that sometimes things weren’t always as they seemed.
“That don’t mean he ain’t messing around on me.”
“But what makes you think he’s cheating?”
“’Cause he got a penis.”
“Jamie!” I don’t know why she sounded so shocked.
“It’s true. Auntie, I just got this feeling. Something’s not right.”
“Have you asked him?”
“I can’t confront him. I love Louis. I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him.” Of course, I left out the part about how I ’d already accused him and been wrong, and if I did it again, he’d be gone.
“But you can’t keep driving yourself crazy thinking he’s cheating. You have to know.”
“I know! I just don’t know what to do.”
“What makes you think he’s cheating? Do you have any proof?”
“He keeps getting these text messages, and I saw this number come up on his cell, and it was from Detroit. Louis has been traveling a lot more lately. What if he’s seeing someone there?”
“You gonna drive yourself crazy. Have you searched the house for clues?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, I don’t know what ‘sort of’means, Jamie, but if it was me, I ’d be turning over mattresses and shit to find evidence.”
By the time I hung up with Aunt Winnie, I decided to leave the office. I forwarded the phones to voice mail. Maybe Daddy wasn’t coming back to the office today anyway. He’d said something about going to a doctor’s appointment to get a prescription for the cough he’d developed. I didn’t care even if he was coming back. I had more important things to do than answer telephones—like find out if my man was messing around on me.
Once I got home, I checked the house for any signs that Louis was creepin’. I went through all his pockets, checked in his clothes drawers, and riffled through receipts, but I came up empty-handed. I spent about two hours searching our place before I just gave up. If he was doing anything, then he was damn good, because he sure wasn’t leaving any evidence.
I decided to take my mind off things by doing a little housework. We’d had a good weekend together, and I hadn’t gotten around to doing any laundry. I dragged the hamper down to the basement, thinking that the four or five loads would keep me busy for a while.
I put the first load in the washing machine, and when I bent down to pick up the detergent bottle off the floor, I saw something I ’d never noticed before. Louis kept some things stored under the stairway. I ’d never paid attention to it, thinking it was all junk, but with my suspicions raised, everything was a possible clue. The black briefcase that sat in front of a box marked OLD CLOTHES looked like it was just begging for me to examine it.
I picked up the briefcase, eager to see what was inside, but was quickly disappointed when I saw that it had a combination lock. It took about thirty failed attempts at guessing the combination before I got pissed. By then, I was tempted to just throw the stupid thing against the wall to try breaking it open. I went in search of the bolt cutters but stopped myself before I actually cut anything off. What if the briefcase was full of insignificant papers and a bunch of stuff that had nothing to do with nothing? How in the world would I explain that one to Louis? I already knew Louis wouldn’t appreciate me going through his stuff. If I damaged it in the process, he’d be even more pissed, and I wasn’t willing to risk it.
After a little thought, I came up with plan B. Living with Daddy, I learned to be smart about finding my way into things. He was constantly hiding naked pictures, letters, sex toys, and anything else he didn’t want me to find, but I always did. I rushed to the hardware store and bought one of those tiny screwdrivers.
Back at the house, I carefully unscrewed the hinges.
“Shit!” I broke a nail with the last screw, but it finally came off.
Inside the briefcase, I found a stack of papers and letters bound with a rubber band. I set them to the side and opened a second compartment, where I found more papers. I pulled them out and shuffled through them, finding a Detroit driver’s license with Louis’s picture. Louis had told me he was from Atlanta; he’d never said anything about living in Detroit. As I inspected the license, I noticed something even more puzzling. It was issued to someone named Rashid Jensen.
I sat down on the floor, my heart beating out of my chest.
I picked up the stack of letters and flipped off the rubber band. The letters were addressed to a Mr. and Mrs. Jensen. A wave of nausea hit me.
I had just seen a TV documentary about this brother who was married to three women—one in Georgia, one in Virginia, and one in North Carolina. He got arrested for polygamy when two of the wives found out about each other. They put his ass in jail.
Was that it? I wondered as I fought the urge to throw up. Is that why something just hadn’t felt right to me? Did Louis have another family?
I ran upstairs and got that piece of paper out of my purse. I blocked my number and dialed.
“Hello?” a woman answered, and my heart sank. “Is anybody there?”
I hung up the phone and sat back in shock.
Darnel
20
As I stepped outside onto the courthouse steps, my parents and Jamie were still jumping up and down, celebrating because the assault charges against me had been dropped.
My dad moved toward me. “Now, be careful, son. God is giving you a second chance,” he warned.
“Thank the Lord for making my son a free man,” my mother shouted, tears glistening in her eyes. It was almost funny to me, because she’d never been a particularly religious person, but now she looked about ready to drop down on her knees right then and there. “Hey, Darnel! Can I speak to you for a minute?” I turned around and saw Omar standing in the courthouse doorway. As he hobbled outside on crutches, I gave him a look meant to squash any expectation of us ever talking again. Now, if he wanted to go toe-to-toe, I was ready to give him another beat down, send him into a wheelchair, or worse, but as far as talking, I didn’t have anything to say to him.
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you, man.” “We need to talk.” Omar came closer, like he didn’t care that I was breathing fire. I was about to ask him if he had some kind of death wish when my dad put a strong hand on my shoulder. I knew he was trying to calm me down because he didn’t want his only son to spend any more time behind bars. He held his other hand out in a gesture meant to stop Omar from coming any closer.
“I’m cool,” I told my father, not because it was true, but because I didn’t want to worry him any more than I already had.
“We need to talk.” Omar just kept coming with his lame-ass line.
“No, we don’t. I ain’t got nothing to say to you,” I hissed, trying to keep my cool since I was standing in front of the courthouse and within range of the police.
“After all we been through, it’s like that?”
This motherfucker was coming too close to being slammed down on the concrete.
“What? I must have heard you wrong, ’cause you sound like I’m the one who fucked your fiancée and not the oth
er way around. I don’t owe you anything!”
“Just one minute. Please.”
“I ain’t got nothin’ for you, man.”
“Maybe I got something for you. Don’t you want to hear the truth? Don’t you wanna know why?” He kept pressing, and I had had enough. I stepped to him, ready to take that crutch and put it up his ass.
“Oh, so now you gonna give me the truth? All those years you been like my brother, and now you gonna give me the truth? I almost walked down the aisle with the stench of your dick on my woman. How is that for truth?”
“Darnel!” my father shouted. “It’s not worth the trouble. Just hear the man out so we can get out of here.”
A policeman standing in the doorway came outside, giving us his full attention. I took a step back from Omar, because it was the only way to stop myself from going upside his head.
“What you got to say to me that I didn’t already see?” Deep down, I really did want some answers.
“It ain’t worth ending our friendship over no girl.”
We walked away from my family so they couldn’t hear our conversation.
“This wasn’t just no girl. It was my woman…. I love her.” I started to turn away, but his next words stopped me in my tracks.
“So do I.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I love Keisha, too, Darnel.” As long as I ’d known Omar, I could always tell when he was messing with me and when he was laying down the truth. And as much as I wanted to blow this off, something in his expression struck a nerve and wouldn’t let me just dismiss this.
“What do you mean you love her?”
“I wanted her to be my woman, but she wanted to be with you.” He tried to back away. I studied his face.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I pulled back my fist, ready to jack him up. Omar raised his crutch to block me.
“Darnel, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you like the brother I never had.”
“You got a funny way of showing it.” By this time, I was trying to hold back tears. “So how long has this been going on?”
