The pastor said, “You may now view the body before the casket is closed.”
In a semicircle, everyone viewed at the same time.
“Son,” Darryl Senior said, “come over to our house.”
“When, Dad?” Darius asked, amazed at how Darryl Junior’s face was reconstructed while thinking about his date with Fancy.
“Now. For a family dinner. I want my family together today.”
Damn. His dad’s timing was off. Darius didn’t have time to socialize with them. Reluctantly Darius answered, “Okay. What’s the address?” Darius had never been to their home.
“Ride with me,” his dad insisted.
Now that was not happening. Darius couldn’t be at the mercy of a depressed, grieving individual even if it was his dad. “I’ll have my limo driver follow you.”
Thankfully, Darryl Senior didn’t live far. Sunshine had replaced the rain brightening the day. His dad lived in Fremont off of the Stevenson exit of Interstate 880. Driving toward the hillside, the limo parked in front of a home that resembled M.C. Hammer’s mansion, encompassing almost one square city block. Darryl Senior privately showed Darius his enormous trophy room while Kevin and the other family members scattered to separate parts of the house.
“Wow! Dad, this is incredible! So you played baseball, football, soccer, and ran track, too. Damn. This is tight.” Looking up at the walls, Darius froze. Scanning the huge frames, Darius closed then opened his teary eyes. “You have pictures from all my championship games.” Pointing, Darius continued, “That’s the game when you put me on your shoulders after we won.” Pointing again, “And that’s the game when you autographed my jersey. And all those pictures when you coached me at Georgetown. Dad!”
Darryl Senior tossed one of his championship rings to Darius. “You’ll be earning your own pretty soon.”
Snagging the ring above his head, Darius briefly thought about the day Maxine threw his engagement ring at him and how he’d caught her ring the same way, then Darius bounced on his tiptoes and said, “This is sweet. Yeah. Hell, yeah.” Thumping twice on his chest, Darius said, “I can do this.” Darius placed the ring on his finger then gave it to his dad.
“I can tell you’ve got plans. I just wanted to show you what you can accomplish if you stay focused. Just always remember to treat people right, because you can’t accomplish anything by yourself and you never know who you’re going to need. You can come by anytime you want. Anytime, son. My house is your home.” Darryl Senior accompanied Darius back to the limousine.
Darius was so excited he phoned Fancy from the car.
“Hel—”
Darius interrupted Fancy. “Ladycat, I’m on my way to pick you up! I have so much to tell you.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re in a better mood. Let me get ready. I’ll see you in—”
“A half hour!” Darius said, ending the call.
The driver cruised and Darius floated on air. Having his dad in his life was the best high he’d ever had. More exciting than any of the material things his mother had given him. Darius called Fancy again.
“We’re here. You want me to come up?”
“No, I’m on my way down.”
Fancy strutted up to the limo drenched in amethysts and diamonds, wearing a long-sleeved, red leather dress with a sheer waist, and off-white thigh-high boots with red metallic heels. Her nails, hair, and makeup were immaculate. Darius knew Fancy was the woman for him. Ladycat was a woman of his caliber that would definitely complement his image.
“So where’re we going?” Fancy asked, sitting next to him.
“Wherever you’d like. This is your night.” Darius was so hyped Fancy could take complete control if she wanted.
“Okay, let’s take a stroll down the pier next to Skates Restaurant and watch the sunset. Then we can go shopping at Tiffany’s in San Francisco and have dinner at Silks restaurant.”
Yeah. Right. Hopefully Fancy wasn’t serious. But just in case she was, Darius added, “Then after dinner we can spend the night at my place.”
Fancy smiled. Darius wanted to hold her but opted not to so he could keep Slugger from getting massively swollen on their first date. When the driver parked in front of the pier, Darius cradled Fancy into his arms, lifted her out of the limo, and quickly placed her on her feet.
“Here we are,” Fancy said lowering her dress. “Let’s walk to the end.” As they strolled, Fancy grasped his hand and said, “I’m glad we have this time. I really want to get to know you.”
Darius concealed his frown. Fancy was getting too serious too soon. All he wanted to do was have a good time. “Yeah, we have plenty of time for that when I return. I have to go to L.A. in a few days. But I’ll be back.”
Grazing the planks of the pier, careful not to sink her heels between the boards, Fancy asked, “So what had you all excited earlier?”
“Aw, man!” Darius cheesed. “My Dad, former NBA All-Star Darryl Williams, Sr., he’s wonderful. I saw all of his trophies and championship rings for the first time today, and he said I’ma be just like him! I love my dad!”
Fancy’s eyes drooped, jaw dropped, and cheeks descended toward her chin. “That’s nice. I wish I knew my dad or felt that way about my mom.”
“Ladycat, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Can you take me home?”
“Home? No way. We came out to have a good time and I’m not going to let you go home and mope. Trust me. I have family problems, too, so I do understand. You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you.” Who’d spoken those words? Darius bit his bottom lip. Dude, stop trippin’ over this female.
There they stood. Hand in hand at the end of the pier. Two of the most attractive people in the universe, and they both had issues. Darius sensed whatever troubled Fancy was equally depressing as his problems. Darius and Fancy silently stood on the pier until the sun burst into a huge ball of rays expanding from the ocean into the heavens then faded into the water. Then Darius took Fancy to San Francisco as she’d desired, to the private members-only club they’d both frequented. When Byron showed up acting a fool, claiming Fancy was his woman, Darius took Fancy home.
“So you want me to come up?” Darius asked then said, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Not tonight. Maybe next time. I’m tired.” Fancy kissed Darius’s jaw. “Thanks. I had a great time and you were a perfect gentleman. Call me tomorrow.”
Oh, hell no. Fuck that gentleman bullshit. If Fancy thought she was pimpin’ Darius Jones, she was wrong. The limousine driver exceeded the speed limits to get Darius home. Darius had no intention of dialing Fancy’s number ever again. His dick was hard and his bed was lonely. Pumping his erection up and down, Darius stared at his ceiling. After all the money he’d spent, another night of masturbation.
Females! Fuck!
CHAPTER 6
Darius must’ve been crazy if he thought Fancy would fall for the “wine, dine, and then bang the hell out of Miss Kitty until his dick was satisfied” routine simply because he was rich, handsome, and spent lots of money on their first date. Fancy had enjoyed dining with him but she was serious. Miss Kitty was on hiatus. She was protesting again, clenching her muscles and stimulating her own G-spot, but Miss Kitty might as well stop acting a fool and get used to being solo because it would be a while, a long while, before she felt the stiffness of a man’s erection penetrating her walls. Typically Fancy would’ve given a man as wealthy as Darius all the pussy he wanted but Byron, Adam, and Harry proved that that approach backfired every time. It was time to implement patience.
Lacing up her cross-country track shoes, Fancy stepped onto the treadmill, warmed up for ten minutes with a brisk walk at level three, and then increased the speed to six. While jogging, Fancy watched CNN on the flat screen television in front of her.
“Drop down and get your eagle on, girl,” blared through Fancy’s cellular phone. Quickly she answered, ignoring the NO CELL PHONE sign posted on the wall, as the guys running on treadmills along si
de her at Club One Fitness smiled.
“Hey, Byron. What’s up?” Byron was the first person Fancy expected to hear from after seeing him at the members only club.
“Missing you. I apologize for the way I acted last night. I had no right confronting you in front of Darius.”
Hell, he had no right confronting her at all. Byron’s voice dragged like he had a bad hangover. “And I’m sorry for the way I mistreated you over the phone the last time we spoke. Are you enjoying the Benz?”
Byron could never give an apology without countering with something that was supposed to make Fancy feel guilty. “You can have the car back any time you want.” Fancy refused to become attached to Byron through his car again.
“No, baby. I’ve decided it’s yours. That’s why I’m calling. I want to take you to DMV. Today. To transfer the title into your name.”
Reducing the treadmill’s speed from six to four, Fancy continued running and sweating. “Oh, really?” Fancy inhaled through her nostrils and out her mouth. “You do know you don’t have to go with me to DMV. If you’re sincere, just sign the title over to me and I’ll register the car myself.”
“I just want to talk to you Fancy, that’s all.”
Whenever a man said, “That’s all,” he was lying. The same as when anyone had told Fancy, “It’s okay if you don’t,” or “I really don’t mean to hurt you but . . .” All lies.
“What’s the real reason you wanna see me?” Fancy asked.
The men beside Fancy frowned. Fancy nodded, then winked at the good-looking, muscular brotha to her left. The guy to her right would definitely prefer having a cheeseburger over eating a woman.
“Look, forget it. If you hadn’t played all those childish games searching through my pants, checking my cell phone, and showing up at my sister’s house, you’d be Mrs. Van Lee. Darius doesn’t deserve you, baby. Darius is out for one thing and one thing only. Sex. Just like that night he convinced me to take you home from the club and swing back to hang with him and his boys and Desire and her friends. You can’t trust him. When you get ready for a real man, call me.”
Silence lingered on both ends. Had Byron realized what he’d said? Normally Fancy would’ve gotten upset. Byron wasn’t worth her time. But Byron did have a big dick and lethal oral skills. Miss Kitty knocked twice. Three times. Fancy pressed the end button on her phone and increased the speed up to seven and sprinted. He’d call back.
To avoid lusting over Byron, Fancy’s mind drifted, thinking about moving her bedroom set into the bedroom where it belonged because now that she was unemployed, the morning sunrise in her living room was awakening her before she was ready to get up. But how would Fancy move her dance pole? She couldn’t. Never mind, the bedroom stayed in the living room.
Maybe Fancy should give Byron back his Benz so he wouldn’t have a reason to call and she wouldn’t be tempted to suck his sweet dick like a lollipop. Byron obviously ate all the right foods because his cum was so tasty Fancy could dip strawberries in it for dessert. If she kept the car, Byron would continue feeling like he had control over her. No more. This time Fancy was for real. Fancy Taylor was taking complete control over every aspect of her life. Why was it so difficult to do the right things?
Doing a quick twenty laps around the indoor track, Fancy completed fifty push-up, sixty arm curls, showered, and spent her usual thirty minutes in the steam sauna—in ten, out five, in ten, then out five again to avoid passing out like this one woman who stayed in for almost sixty minutes straight. Someone should’ve told her moving into the sauna was not the solution to losing all that fat overnight, but at least she was at the gym. Maybe Fancy could convince her overweight mother to join. At almost a hundred dollars a month, Fancy doubted Caroline would make the sacrifice physically or financially.
Completing her morning workout, Fancy exited the club, waving good-bye to her future real estate clients; most of them were on the basketball court getting their run in. Joining Club One Fitness was a major investment. The fee was astronomical but worth every penny because the Warrior basketball players, the Raiders, doctors, lawyers, dentists, the Oakland A’s, Brian Shaw’s fine ass—since he’d retired from the Lakers—Previn, Frederick Morris, and several other millionaires frequented the gym throughout the week.
Fancy stood outside the glass double doors in front of Wells Fargo, debating whether to get a shake or go home and study for her real estate quiz. The growl in her stomach answered for her. Walking pass Waldenbooks and GNC, Fancy noticed a familiar face.
Not her again. No, she did not take off her matted wig, shake it in midair, and put that rug back on her head and pick up another wig. City Center really needs to keep the derelicts off the premises, Fancy thought watching the same homeless woman she’d seen by Mandy’s office sitting on the bench outside Jamba Juice with a grocery bag stuffed with newspaper and a loaf of bread. Fancy stood near the door fumbling in her backpack for money to buy an original Razzmatazz smoothie.
“Give it away,” the homeless woman said, applying short uneven strokes to that matted hairpiece. Unlike on the day Fancy first noticed the homeless woman sitting on a bench across the street from Mandy’s office draped in dingy clothing, her gray sweater was now freshly white.
Was she following Fancy? She’d better not beg for money. Eyeing the women, Fancy continued digging feeling for dollar bills.
“Give it away,” she said again.
Skeptically walking over to the bench, Fancy said, “Excuse me,” rolling her eyes, “but who are you talking to?”
She pointed directly at Fancy’s forehead, reminding Fancy of how she’d done Mandy, so Fancy glanced over her shoulder then back at the woman. “What the hell?” Fancy dug deeper in her bag and handed the woman a dollar.
Shoving Fancy’s hand away, she said, “I don’t need your money, honey. Starting today. Give it away.”
“Don’t touch me.” Wiping her hand on her backpack, Fancy exhaled heavily then grunted, “Give what away?”
“Your love. Who are you saving it for? No matter how much you love someone today you still have enough love in your heart to love them tomorrow. But start with loving yourself.”
Fancy’s head moved side to side. “You’re crazy. Leave me alone. And stop following me!”
Rocking back and forth, the woman closed her eyes. Without opening them she said, “You want to be a millionaire, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?” That was a stupid question.
“But you, my dear, desperately want to become a millionaire. That’s why you went back to school. And I do see financial blessings all around you.”
Now she had Fancy’s attention. Someone was giving Fancy positive news about her future. Fancy smoothed her hands over her waist-length blazer and listened.
Rocking, the woman gazed intently at Fancy and said, “Don’t worry. Your millions of dollars will come later this year. In fact, within the next four to six weeks, you’ll earn a lump sum of money. Excuse me, your light is unusually bright so I must close my eyes again. The man in your life is your future husband.”
Yeah, right. “If you’re so psychic, help me out. What’s his name?”
“I can’t see his full name. But his name starts with a D. I will say this: choose carefully because I see interference from several men. Don’t cling to the familiar and don’t fall in love with the wrong guy.”
“But how will I know when I’m in love?” Fancy asked, moving one step closer.
The homeless woman leaned backward, shaking her wig, “Oh, I don’t know if you want to hear the truth.”
“Just tell me.”
“The man you will fall in love with, you will love him so deeply you will take a bullet for him.”
Fancy’s chin pressed against her throat. Her eyes lifted toward her eyebrows that were stretching into her forehead. “Take a bullet? As in voluntarily get shot? You really need professional help.”
Ignoring Fancy, the homeless woman replied, “Pray. Get closer to God. Y
ou once believed in God when you were a child. He’s waiting for your return. And don’t take the easy road. You are going to suffer and be hurt. Like never before. But don’t let that stop you from giving away your love every single day.”
Why had Fancy solicited this psycho’s opinion? “Look, I’ve got to go, you don’t know me.”
Rocking back and forth the woman continued, “Forgive your mother and beware of your father, for he has a vendetta against you. If you don’t do anything else I ask you to do, take a self-defense class next week. Your life is dependent upon it.”
“First off, I don’t know who my father is.” Tears swelled in Fancy’s eyes. “Besides, I thought you just said I was going to be a millionaire. Now you’re telling me someone is going to try to kill me if I don’t kill myself first. You’re crazy, lady.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I’ve prayed that God take this gift of sight from me. But I’ve never been wrong. Good-bye, Fancy.”
Racing inside Jamba Juice, Fancy realized she was listening to a lunatic homeless woman. A homeless woman prophesizing her life? Could she be right? What did she know anyway? Fancy changed her mind and decided to order a Peach Pleasure with a protein boost and one ounce of wheatgrass.
“What’s your name?” the cashier asked.
“Fancy.” Fancy paused then screamed, “Fancy! How did she know my name?!” Fancy left the cashier holding her ten-dollar bill then ran back outside. A couple was sitting on the bench hugging and kissing. Fancy ran down the escalator toward the BART transit station. The homeless woman, seated by the window, waved good-bye.
Fancy stood frozen watching the woman brush her wig as the train pulled off, whistling through the tunnel. The mysterious woman was gone. If you don’t do anything else I ask you to do, take a self-defense class next week. Your life is dependent upon it.
What did that crazy woman know?
CHAPTER 7
Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This Page 8
