Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  He was shocked. “It’s clean! What’s wrong?” he asked his wife.

  It was a miracle he hadn’t contracted any sexually transmitted diseases. That was by the grace of God and perhaps from Theodore insisting he take meds to minimize his risk of infection. All that he’d done and overcome, and God still had mercy on his soul.

  “What really happened in Atlanta?” Monet asked.

  “It’s too painful to relive right now,” he said. That was real. “I will answer all of your questions, baby. Later.”

  Looking into his eyes, Monet said, “Kingston, I love you. I will always love you. And most important, with all my heart, I forgive you. I mean it.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After all he’d put her through, why would his wife forgive him? None of this would’ve happened if he had been born without ungodly urges. If he had been honest and told Monet that it all started in a janitor’s closet when he was in third grade . . .

  Jordan had offered to share what Langston Derby had told her. It didn’t matter.

  Commanding his attention, Monet let him know, “Baby, you’ve never beaten me or called me out of my name. Whatever you did was something that you did with others. I can’t say I understand what you went through, but I do want to know. Everything. But I’m grateful that you’re alive. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost my best friend.”

  With every word she spoke, his wife became more beautiful. She was unequivocally his best friend. He’d given her valid reasons to cheat on him. But she’d never given her pussy to another man. Kingston wanted to keep it that way.

  Monet continued, “I know people are going to think that our family isn’t strong enough to make it through this situation. They can believe whatever they’d like. The Royales are forever united.”

  Slowly shaking his head in disbelief, Kingston admitted, “You have no idea how much that means to me, or what they did to me.” Kingston cried. “Being sodomized, all day every day. Baby, some men are fucking pigs . . . I wanted to die.”

  Struggling to force the pain out of his mind, Kingston bit his bottom lip. Langston Derby was dead. In many ways Langston was the luckier one.

  “It’s okay to cry,” Monet said, moving as close as she could. “Look at me. We are not going to give those criminals our power. You are not going to give those criminals your power. All of them are exactly where they should be. And you are going to stand up in court and speak up for yourself and for all of the people that have been kidnapped and forced into prostitution. A lot of people think it only happens to females, but you are living proof that it also happens to males, and you have to be their voice.”

  That may be too much to ask, Kingston thought. “I’m embarrassed and ashamed. My face will be all over the media. Some people will say I deserved it.”

  “You can do this. You have to do it. What if that were to happen to our daughters? You don’t want to have any regrets for not being the voice for black men who are missing. I will be by your side the entire time.”

  Kingston would never encourage Monet to go public if she had been raped. The “right thing” wasn’t proper for everybody. His former teammates would assume he was gay while he was in the league. Strangers would post memes on social media. How would he recover?

  “You are the most selfless person I know. You have taken care of me, our girls, my mother, your family, friends, and the list goes on. From this day forward I want you to live your truth. You have the right to be gay, bisexual, heterosexual. Whatever it is you want to be, that is your decision alone,” Monet reassured him.

  Kingston sought confirmation from his wife. “So you’re not going to divorce me if I say I am bisexual?”

  Monet didn’t hesitate to respond. “I cannot promise you that I’d be okay with you having sex with men, then coming home to be intimate with me. But what I can promise you is I will always love you. As long as you don’t lie to me about what is happening. Just like you make your decision, respect and accept mine.”

  His ass shifted on the donut. Kingston wanted Monet to say she’d always be there with him as his wife. Being a family man was socially acceptable. But the fact that she didn’t dehumanize or abandon him made him feel like a man.

  Monet kissed Kingston on his lips, then left the room.

  Kingston did not know why God had blessed him with an angel, but he was grateful he had chosen the right wife. He made a commitment to himself that he’d never lie to or leave Monet again.

  CHAPTER 57

  Monet

  “Hey, pretty lady. I’m glad you called. How are you doing?”

  Cairo asked. “Don’t stay in Atlanta too long. I need my baby here with me.”

  Standing outside of her husband’s room, Monet said, “It’s hard seeing him having to sit on a donut, and knowing why. I think he’s in denial about what happened.”

  Monet struggled to truly forgive her husband. She’d told him she had, hoping to lift him up. She imagined he’d endured more than he deserved.

  “His spirit seems good. I’m glad he didn’t die. He’s my best friend, you know. Nothing will change that,” Monet said.

  Bianca was right. Kingston being alive was harder. Monet had to be the glue for her girls, her mom, and her husband. If she were the one to leave Kingston, how would society judge her?

  “I know you love your ‘brother,’ but if there is room in your heart for one more best friend, Mrs. Royale, I’d like to fill that opening,” Cairo stated in a naughty tone.

  Feeling Cairo’s energy resonate through the phone, Monet had to be truthful. “What are we going to do? I know where I want to be. But I could never divorce Kingston under these circumstances.”

  Cairo became silent. Monet watched one of the nurses take pictures of her. She hadn’t had the decency to silence the clicks on her cell.

  “Are you still there, baby?” Monet asked.

  “You know how I feel about you. This is hard for me, too. But I’m not going to be selfish. What we share is magical. I doubt if I’ll ever find another human being that complements me the way you do.” Cairo became silent again. This time she heard a sniffle.

  “I’ve been knowing that Kingston is your husband. And I understand why you’re protective of him. After the news break, and your overreaction, I looked you up.”

  Monet wasn’t sure how she felt about Cairo not mentioning he’d researched her. But she had no right to lie to him.

  “Listen,” he said. “You told me your marital status day one. That hasn’t changed. Neither have my feelings for you.” Cairo added, “I’m here to complement. Not complicate your life.”

  A lump gathered in Monet’s throat, making it hard for her to speak. Looking at the man walking in her direction, Monet stood tall. It was him. The man in the picture with her husband.

  “Let me call you back. We have an uninvited guest,” she said, ending the call with Cairo.

  Monet wanted to tell Cairo, “I love you,” but their situation was truly complicated and she didn’t want to mislead him.

  * * *

  Blocking the entrance into Kingston’s room, Monet asked, “Are you Theodore Ramsey?”

  “You must be the cock blocker,” he replied, singing the last word. Placing his hand on his hip with his thumb in front, Theodore continued, “Kingston should be with me, not you. It’s time for him to shave his beard. And you know this.”

  She didn’t give a damn what he called her. “Nurse! How did this criminal get past check-in?” Monet yelled.

  “Who you defaming, honey? I’d sue you if you weren’t married to my future husband. I have not been charged or implicated, thank you,” he said, trying to go around her.

  “Over here, Elizabeth.” Monet waved.

  Theodore waved, too. “Yes, Elizabeth girl. Come quick.”

  Approaching the door, Elizabeth escorted them away from Kingston’s room, then asked, “What’s the problem?”

  “She’s trying to keep me away from my man,” Theodo
re said. “I had nothing to do with what happened to my baby. Would I be here if I had? And for the record, I’m glad Langston is no longer amongst the living.”

  Monet wasn’t here to challenge Theodore. “Langston committed suicide be—”

  Elizabeth interrupted, “I’m going to have to ask both of you to—”

  Even if her husband preferred men, Theodore wouldn’t be his type.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Monet stated. “There’s one way to find out if Kingston is okay with Mr. Ramsey’s visit.”

  Monet wasn’t going to let Theodore harm her husband. She reentered Kingston’s hospital room with Theodore right behind her.

  “Hey, baby,” Kingston said.

  The moment he noticed Theodore, his eyes softened, then shifted to her.

  Is my husband tearing up at the sight of a man? Instantly Monet realized her situation was bigger than a battle of the sexes. Her husband loved that man.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley . . .” Lord, give me strength. Monet swallowed the new lump that choked her, then cleared her throat.

  Theodore sat on the sofa next to Kingston. Their thighs touched. Redirecting his attention to her, Kingston was silent.

  “What? Don’t look at me. Act like I’m not here.”

  Theodore may have not been directly involved, but he must’ve had something to do with what had happened to Kingston. Monet had heard of prostitutes going back to their pimps, but what was this?

  “What did they do to my baby?” Theodore asked her husband. “I was going to die, or die trying to find you.”

  “Die then! Like Langston. Because you know damn well you knew where my husband was. You set him up!” Monet moved closer to Kingston. “Look at me.” She pointed at Theodore. “He set you up.”

  “How are you? How long do you have to sit on this thing?” Theodore asked Kingston, ignoring her.

  Composing herself, Monet said, “Kingston, I’ll give you a minute to end these despicable theatrics.” Exiting the room, she overheard Theodore asking her husband more questions than she had.

  Monet’s body was numb. She went to the café on the second floor, ordered a cup of coffee, then sat at a window that overlooked valet parking below.

  She processed what she’d witnessed; that was a cowardly way for Kingston to show his truth. She dialed the necessary number.

  “Hey, how are you guys, my dear?” Kendall Minter, Esquire, asked.

  “I need you to draft our divorce decree,” she emphatically stated.

  “Sleep on it. If you feel the same after giving everything consideration, we’ll discuss it. I have to take this. Call me later if you need to—”

  “Wait,” she said, then explained.

  Minter had no idea. Monet didn’t want to reveal her husband’s personal life.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  “The guy. The partner of Langston Derby.” She’d found a way not to say Kingston was gay. “He had the audacity to come to the hospital.”

  Minter’s voice went from cheery to serious. “Where is he?”

  “He claims he’s not involved with the trafficking. Kingston let him stay in his room. What should I do?” Monet asked.

  “What’s his name?” Minter asked.

  “Theodore Ramsey.”

  “From what I’ve heard, Langston made over a million dollars off of trafficking your husband. Theodore, if he’s involved, may not be willing to let Kingston go that easy. Whatever you do, don’t let Theodore take Kingston out of the hospital.” Minter ended their call.

  Determined to prove Theodore was no competition, and she was going to make sure he stayed away from Kingston, Monet’s hands trembled terribly as she dialed 9-1-1.

  A female responder answered, “Nine-one-one. Caller, what’s your emergency?”

  What was her emergency? Monet thought, then cried out, “Someone is trying to kidnap my husband from the hospital!”

  Monet returned to Kingston’s floor, stood outside his room, and waited.

  Two police officers hurried toward her.

  “Theodore Ramsey is in my husband’s room,” Monet reported.

  Forcing open the door, both officers rushed in. Monet followed them.

  She was not prepared for what everyone saw. Theodore’s dick was in Kingston’s mouth. Theodore looked up. Holding the back of Kingston’s head, he kept stroking.

  “Uh, what’s the emergency again?” the officer asked.

  Kingston tried pushing Theodore away.

  The other officer said, “Theodore, he wants you to stop,” then nodded his head. “Now would be a good time.”

  Embarrassed, Monet told her husband, “That’s it. I’m done. We’re getting a divorce. He can have you.”

  CHAPTER 58

  Victoria

  “Victoria Fox. Will you marry me?” Heavenly asked.

  Hmm. A dating app had turned into what Victoria had never fathomed. A real relationship. Why did he have to ask her in a public place?

  “Wedding proposal on aisle nine” permeated throughout the grocery store. She looked down at Heavenly, who was on one knee next to a large cardboard box of watermelons.

  Victoria hadn’t acquired her wealth to jeopardize millions on a feeling that could change as she aged. Fun and pleasure was what she sought. Not commitment.

  The audience of men was becoming restless. The women cheered her on, adding applause. Kids chanted, “Say yes!”

  She wasn’t there for the applause. In fact, Victoria would’ve preferred that Heavenly had asked her in private.

  Looking defeated, Heavenly’s response was “You’re not ready for me. Forget I asked.”

  That was something she could do.

  “The wedding is off,” he announced, still holding the ring up to her.

  Poor thang. Victoria didn’t need to be saved by Heavenly or any man. Only God had the power to do that. The person she loved was no longer among the living, but Willy Copeland would always have a special place in her heart.

  She couldn’t say the same about Heavenly. He could leave and stay gone forever. She’d miss him. Maybe. But his replacement was online or on an app.

  Everyone in the produce section was staring at her. Leaning over, Victoria whispered in Heavenly’s ear, “You should get up. Why did you do this here?”

  “Why not? You too good for a grocery store proposal?” The oh-so-familiar man-child’s smile spread across his face. Only this time it was contrived.

  The crowd of spectators grew, presumably expecting a resounding “yes” to escape her lips any moment. But Victoria wasn’t thirty-something like her lover. She was over sixty.

  Since he was the one who’d popped the question in the middle of the store, he’d have to wait for her answer. “Get up. Let’s finish shopping and I promise to give you an answer before we check out.”

  “Go ahead and say yes,” one woman said. “You ain’t getting any younger.”

  “She’s just fronting. She know she’s going to marry that boy,” another woman commented. “She done turnt him out.”

  “Dude, she ain’t the one. When somebody loves you back, they don’t have to think about accepting your proposal.” So said the short guy with the potbelly that looked her age, but was probably closer to Heavenly’s.

  The crowd began to disperse. Heavenly finally stood up, put the ring back in its box, then shoved it into his pocket.

  Victoria hissed, “What were you thinking?”

  After Heavenly’s dog-and-pony, her answer definitely wasn’t a “yes.” But it wasn’t a “no.” The difference with a mature man, in Victoria’s opinion, irrespective of age, was that he would think through a situation before verbalizing what was on his mind.

  Sensing he needed it, Victoria hugged Heavenly. “Why don’t we leave this basket right here, go to dinner, order steak and lobster and champagne. Then we can have the conversation we should’ve had before you popped the question.”

  In the car on the way to the restaur
ant, he asked the question again, in a different way. “Will you be my wife? I’m serious. I know what I want.”

  What on earth is Heavenly trying to prove, Lord Jesus? If he could dismiss his ego, then maybe she’d give him an answer over dinner.

  Ordering a bottle of their best champagne, Victoria asked, “Are you willing to buy me a higher-quality diamond?”

  “What’s money got to do with my offering you my heart? I bought what I could afford,” he retorted.

  “Hmm.” That was exactly what she thought.

  Heavenly hung his head. Stared at the table.

  “Look at me.” Victoria said, “Are you willing to sign a prenuptial agreement?”

  Shaking his head, he answered, “No.”

  “No?” Instead of saying, “What do you bring to the relationship?” Victoria asked, “How much is the remainder for your tuition and the total amount due for your credit cards? I think we should start there. If we’re still together when you get your degree, you can decide if you’d like to ask me again. Fair?” she asked.

  Then Victoria added, “One more thing. Why are you asking me to marry you? And please don’t say it’s because you love me. I already know that, but love alone is never enough.” She recalled what Kingston had recently put Monet through.

  Heavenly pushed his chair away from the table. Stood. Looked down at her. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us. I promise you, you’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

  Thank You, Lord Jesus. You know my heart. If the spell isn’t broken, don’t let Heavenly become a stalker. Amen.

  Raising her glass to him, Victoria sipped her champagne. She ordered the African lobster tail and the filet mignon, medium.

  Nothing was lost in love and faith. Heavenly’s replacement was already in her in-box on TuitionCougars, and Victoria had every intention on finding her next Heavenly.

  Tonight.

  CHAPTER 59

  Chancelor

  “Ha-ha, ha-ha. Stop tickling me. You are so silly,” Chancelor said, then hugged Shanita from behind.

  Their legs moved in unison as they strolled through Centennial Park. The day had cooled off to a warm summer evening of seventy-two degrees.