by Mz. Robinson
I needed to know more about the woman who was causing so much drama for my wife’s girl Shontay because she’d become a regular topic of discussion in my home. Why was it my concern? Because it was my wife Octavia’s concern, and what bothers her pisses me off. You have to understand that my wife—like most women—is an emotional creature, beautiful but emotional. When something bothers her, it invades her senses to the point that other desires (like her desire to do that thing with her mouth that I so love) come up short. I’m a sucker for head—no pun intended—so you can understand why the situation with Alicia had to be dealt with and dealt with quickly. I had already decided how I was going to handle the situation when Lawrence brought me the 411 on Alicia’s history. The information Lawrence provided included everything from Alicia’s Social Security number to the make of her first car. As far as I knew, I had never laid eyes on the Alicia my Octavia talked so much about, but then Lawrence brought me photos and I realized she was the Lee-Lee I knew from back in the day. Although Alicia and I hadn’t spoken or seen each other in years and were on two completely different levels both mentally and socially, I was not about to have her out in the streets looking like some throw-away hoe.
“Okay, Damon,” Alicia whispered lowly. I watched as she wiped her face with the back of her hands. “So help me.”
Her words brought a smile to my face. Reaching across the desk, I took her hand in mine. “What happened to you, Lee-Lee?” I asked gently. “The girl I knew—”
“That’s just it, Damon. She was a girl,” Alicia said, cutting me off. “I know you have your thoughts, feelings and opinions about the things I’ve done as an adult, but you don’t know what brought me here, to this point in my life.”
I watched as the tears trickled down her cheeks, but I said nothing and allowed her to go on.
“You went on to live a happy life with loving parents, and you used that love to fuel your success. Some people aren’t so lucky, like me, for instance.”
“But this is a new day, baby,” I told her, “a new chance.”
“Where do I begin?” she asked.
“First things first,” I said. “Get rid of the weave and get that cap out your mouth.” I looked at her hair, wondering what in the world she was thinking. Alicia’s skin was the color of deep, dark chocolate, yet she continued to knot those ridiculous platinum-blonde weaves in her head. As far as the gold cap was concerned, it was my belief that unless it was there for necessary dental purposes, it shouldn’t be there at all. “Burn that dress and every other piece of clothing you own,” I continued. “You have to step your wardrobe up.” Staring at her, I tried to picture the pretty dark-skinned girl I had once adored; I knew she was still there, lurking somewhere under all that ghetto ensemble Alicia had put together, and I needed to find her.
“Damon, it takes money to buy new things—” Alicia stopped what she was saying when she saw me place the briefcase on the desk in front of her. Her eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets when I opened the case, revealing its contents. “What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s $125, 000,” I said with a serious look on my face. “Like I said, it’s a new day. This is for a new start for you and Kiya.”
“And this?” I watched as she removed the gun from the top of the stacks of cash. Holding it loosely in her palms, she looked at me. “I mean, I know what it is,” she said, “but what is it for?”
Leaning forward, I put my hands on the desk. “I think you already know.”
***
Two Weeks Later
I pushed through the steel door leading to the roof of The Ambiance 2 and stepped into the night air with urgency. I scanned the scene with my eyes, darting from body to body. Kenny lay on his back with his eyes closed, surrounded by a growing puddle of crimson. His shirt was saturated with his own blood, evidence of the bullets that had ripped through his chest just moments earlier. Donna, his lover, looked like a sleeping angel in spite of the blood trickling from the gunshot wound in the side of her head. I pulled my eyes from their lifeless bodies just long enough to look at Alicia; she stared at me with eyes as wide as a child’s. At first her expression was one of guilt and regret all wrapped into one, but then a small smile crept across her face. The gun that had been used for the crime lay on the ground a few inches from where she was standing.
I looked from her to the weapon. Damn, I thought to myself.
“What the…?” Savoy whispered, coming up from behind me.
“Go downstairs and get Jennings,” I said, still staring at Alicia. Drake Jennings was on my payroll. He was also a detective with Huntsville Police Department. In life, it pays to have the right people on your team at the right time, and Detective Jennings was proving to be one of my wisest investments yet.
“What about…?”
“I’ll handle it,” I told him. “Jennings will handle the rest.” I looked Savoy in the eyes, offering him some unspoken reassurance. He nodded his head before running away, and as soon as he was gone, I moved into action. I knew it would be only seconds before Octavia and Shontay came bursting through the door. Given enough time, I could have spared them from viewing the scene of death and mayhem altogether, but time was not on my side. Even if Savoy had warned Octavia and Shontay to stay away, they would have been defiant about it and done the exact opposite of what he said. I love Octavia with every ounce of blood coursing through my veins, and I love Shontay like my own sister, but the two of them are as stubborn as diaper rash on a baby’s ass. Despite that, though, I would kill for either one of them; hell, when it comes to Octavia, I already have.
Much like the scene before me, Octavia was caught in a love triangle when the two of us first started dating. She was infatuated with a punk-ass bitch dope boy by the name of Beau. Don’t get me wrong, Beau owned a lucrative strip club and had several other hustles, but the brother was a murderer and a woman-beater who shamelessly loved to treat his nose with heroine. I can’t and won’t knock Beau for his hustle, but I have a serious problem with so-called “men” who like to use their muscles to strong-arm the women in their lives. I was raised to practice and believe that a real man never uses his physical strength against a female. For some reason, though, Octavia just couldn’t break free from Beau. I’m not an insecure man, so I couldn’t have cared less about what Beau was or was not providing in the bedroom. The only thing I gave a damn about was getting what was rightfully mine, and that was Octavia’s hand in marriage. See, I knew from the first time I laid eyes on her that she was the woman God had created just for me.
The first time I saw Octavia was in a feature article in Black Business Woman’s Monthly. Her skin was the color of brown sugar, and she had honey-brown eyes and curly jet-black hair that I would later be pleased to find out was all naturally hers. Her face was beautiful, and her body was banging: perfectly round breasts, well-toned legs, and wide, ride-‘em hips. I could tell she took care of herself, and that alone was a turn-on. However, it wasn’t Octavia’s beauty that earned her recognition in BBWM; that came from her professional accomplishments.
Octavia was a Spelman College graduate and the proud owner of Ambiance, one of Huntsville’s only upscale restaurants at the time. I found this to be far more enticing than her nearly flawless appearance, but it wasn’t because I needed a woman to take care of me; I’m the president of Nomad Investments and Savings, my father’s company, and I also own Gold Mortgage. I make more in a month than most people earn in an entire year. So for me, money is no object, but there is something about a woman who has her own. Octavia’s beauty and credentials had me hooked, and I became infatuated with her instantly.
After reading the article, I began to study Octavia and familiarize myself with her habits. I traveled frequently from my home in Atlanta to Huntsville, Alabama, until I knew Huntsville like I knew my own nuts. Then, when I felt the time was right, I made my move. From the very beginning, the attraction between the two of us was undeniable, but as I said before, Octavia had a pr
oblem breaking away from Beau. In the end, the three of us ended up in a deadly confrontation. Beau attempted to kill both of us, but he lost his own life instead. Octavia became my wife, and three months later, our daughter Jasmine was born.
The two of us now share a wonderful life. I admit that I have some secrets, and there are some things from my past that Octavia will never know. However, what’s important is that I am a protector and a provider who handles his business by any means necessary.
Removing the monogrammed handkerchief I kept in the inside my jacket, I carefully picked up the gun and positioned it in Donna’s cold palm. It was not my desire to cover up the crime. I knew any partially trained rookie on the police force would be able to tell that the weapon had been moved. My reasoning behind moving the gun was based solely on my desire to spare Octavia and Shontay the horror of the truth. Fortunately, neither of them had studied forensics.
“What happened?” I asked, moving to Alicia’s side.
“I killed her,” she said calmly.
“And him?”
“No. Donna took care of Kenny first,” she said, looking at me, “and then I returned the favor.”
“That wasn’t the plan,” I whispered. I had given Alicia specific instructions to make sure Donna had the gun. I knew that once Donna found out Kenny was using her just like he was using Alicia, she would grow the balls to take him out, thus ending the trouble he was causing Shontay. I had never anticipated Alicia taking things into her own hands.
“Plans change,” she said strongly.
“So I see.”
“Thanks, Damon,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“Because of you, I remember me.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder as Octavia and Shontay came rushing in the door.
Chapter 2
Octavia
Have you ever met a woman too independent for her own good? The kind of woman who passes on love, no matter how good the man is? I used to be that woman. The only time or place I had for a man was under the sheets, pushing in between my thighs. However, something happened that made me come to the realization that all those years of having sex with no strings attached were a waste of my damn time. There came a point in my life when I had to finally admit that fear was my reason behind my failure to commit, and deep inside, I wanted what all mature adults want—I wanted real love.
My eyes were officially open when, after fifteen years, my parents, Charlene and Charles, renewed their love and remarried. I admit my parents’ journey was not an easy one. When I was ten years old, my father packed his bags and walked out on my mother. At the time, I thought it was because he was in love with another woman. As it turned out, his mistress was more of the chemical sort. He had an addiction, and rather than subject my mother and me to all the bullshit that went along with that lifestyle, he walked away. Don’t get me wrong…he made sure I was taken care of, but he knew he couldn’t be a husband and father and love my mother like she deserved to be loved, at least not until he got his shit together. That’s one of the many reasons I respect my father so much. A lot of men and women would rather take the one who loves them up, down, and through a continuous cycle of drama rather than having enough nuts to say, “I’m fucked up right now, and you deserve better.”
Once Daddy had himself together, he let Mama know she still had his heart. As his luck would have it, he still had hers too. There was just one person standing in their way: my stepfather Bill.
Now that I think about it, Bill really wasn’t a problem. The truth is that he had a problem. See, my loving stepfather was a raging sex addict. After doing a little research, Mama discovered that her new husband had a thing for porn, strippers, sex toys, and bondage. We also discovered during a spirit-filled Sunday morning worship service that Bill had a thing for the 60-plus, wigwearing, 300-pound mother of our church, Sister Emma. It was during that wonderful service that Bill confessed that he and Emma had been bumping the skins. As a result of my stepfather’s candid confession, Mama got her dream divorce and remarried Daddy within three months.
Seeing the lasting strength of my parents’ love through all of that gave me the courage to open my heart to my loving and wonderful husband Damon. If I could create an army of men, Damon would be the mold, and they’d all be captains; that’s just the kind of man he is. Not only is he fine—and I do mean FINE—but he’s also affectionate, loving, and understanding. He accepts me for who I am, and he takes very good care of me and our daughter Jasmine.
However, much like the love my parents share, our love is not perfect. My husband proved that to me tonight, when he looked me dead in the eyes and told me a lie.
***
I gently placed Damon’s Blackberry back on the nightstand, then tiptoed back to my side of the bed. Damon lay on his back with a smile plastered on his face, sleeping like a freshly fed newborn. I wondered what he and Jada were up to in that dream world of his. My husband has openly communicated with me about his fantasies of Jada Pinkett-Smith, and I’m cool with it. It’s my belief that it’s not the sisters on the big screen we have to worry about, but the ones riding around in our neighborhood, looking like dick-thirsty hoes. I contemplated awakening him from his erotic dream to confront him with the information Alicia had provided to me during our phone call, but I ultimately decided against it.
Instead, I slipped back under the sheets and closed my eyes. I had a million thoughts running through my mind, and the source of their chase was my realization that my loving and wonderful husband had lied to me.
Earlier that night, the two of us had indulged in one of our many exhilarating lovemaking sessions. The loving had been so good that my boo had put me to sleep. When I woke up, I expected to roll over and find his warm body lying next to mine. Instead, I woke up at two in the morning, all alone in our king-sized bed. I climbed out of bed buck-naked and went in search of Damon, assuming he was on diaper duty with our beautiful daughter, only he wasn’t. I found him downstairs, engaged in a phone call. When I asked him who he was talking to, he told me he was on the phone with his best friend, Savoy.
Not only is Savoy Damon’s partner, but he’s also the new boo of my bestie, Shontay. The two of them had just departed for a romantic rendezvous to Belize, so when Damon said Savoy was on the other end of the phone, I was relieved to know that my bestie and her new man had made it to their destination safely.
I would have continued to believe it was Savoy, but Shontay called me a few hours later. After we exchanged brief pleasantries, it was brought to my attention that Savoy hadn’t spoken to my man since he and Shontay had left for their voyage. I ended my conversation with my girl without dropping a clue that Damon had lied to me, but don’t think for one second I wasn’t going to find out the truth.
After guessing the password on his phone—and believe me, I wanted to know why he had his phone locked in the first damn place—I called the last number back. Something inside me was telling me it was a home-wrecking bitch on the other line, and my instinct was right. To my dismay, it was a gutter-rat by the name of Alicia. I’d met her before, when Shontay and I rolled up and caught her at the Charles Motel with Shontay’s then-husband Kenny. Alicia had been screwing Kenny for years and even had a baby by him. Although she and Kenny had put my girl through hell, Shontay had forgiven Kenny and accepted their child as part of the family. I must say my girl is a bigger woman than I am! If any man of mine brought a child up in our home of which I wasn’t the baby-mama, it wouldn’t be long before it would be my home and my home only. I’d have his things packed and the locks changed so fast he would nickname me Triple A. Forget “for better or for worse.” I refuse to play the happy stepmother to any child of my man’s conceived by some hoe. I’m a real woman, and I ain’t about to play that game.
Anyway, Shontay maintained and played her role well, right up until Kenny was murdered by his girlfriend, Donna, the second girlfriend, whom Kenny was sharing with Alicia. Yes, you heard me right. Kenny, Donna
, and Alicia were on some kind of kinky threesome trip until Donna shot Kenny and then turned the gun on herself.
I know Kenny was responsible for keeping his dick in his pants, but at the same time, both Alicia and Donna should have had enough respect to step back. No woman should play around with another woman’s husband; that bitch called Karma will always bounce back.
You can understand why I was concerned to discover it was Alicia who had been speaking with my man. I have to give the girl some credit, as she did change her ways up just before Kenny’s death. She went from dressing like a broke-down stripper to looking like a lady, but I still didn’t trust her with my man. Hell, Kenny was ugly and broke, and he had her nose open. Imagine what a sexy, rich man like my husband would have done to her!
Chapter 3
Damon
I woke up with a smile on my face and my soldier standing at full command. Jada always has that effect on me.
There are really only two women I dream about: One is the beautiful woman who was lying next to me, my wife Octavia, and the other is Jada Pinkett-Smith. I rolled over and slowly pulled the covers back, revealing Octavia’s beautiful round ass. I was in the perfect position to slip in and start beating it from the back, but that wouldn’t have been fair to my baby. I was guaranteed to get mine, but I had to make sure she got hers first. Your woman’s satisfaction is mandatory, and any man who thinks otherwise is less than a man. Squeezing her ass gently, I waited while she rolled over onto her back.
