by Tiana Laveen
“Those are called natural breasts, baby,” he stated calmly as he proceeded to write the check. “You haven’t seen or felt any in so fucking long, you forgot what they’re supposed to be like. I happen to prefer hers. I like a real woman, inside and out.” He shot her a brief glance. “A little plastic surgery is all right, but I think you went a bit too far. That’s none of my business though, right? I mean, hey, if that’s what you want, that’s what you want, right? Who am I to judge?”
“Well.” She shrugged. “I am a real woman, baby… suit yourself. But the Lazzy I know would never pass up a chance to get his cock sucked. Let me taste that cum shot, baby…” She began to crawl towards him on all fours, her eyes centered on his crotch. He raised his hand to stop her.
“Don’t, Mimi. We’re not fucking. You’re not gonna suck my dick, I’m not eatin’ your pussy. We’re not doing anything like that at all.”
“Awww!” She laughed. “Poor Lazzy bear got a girlfriend now he can’t have any more fun! Boohoo! You’ll be begging for this ass soon enough… She can’t handle a man like you. See, you and I are the same… we’re freaks. She’s a sweet, innocent thing. She doesn’t know how to please a man like you… but I do.” She pointed to herself.
“You know what?” He got to his feet and snatched the folder off the floor. “I was going to do this differently, but you just can’t let me be great.” He chuckled. “I can’t stand one more second of this so let’s just get the show on the road.”
“What are you talking about?” She looked up at him, still on her knees like a dog begging for a treat.
“You’ve been on your knees a lot lately, but unfortunately, it wasn’t to pray to be a better person.” Her expression turned to confused. He dropped the pen down on the rug, placed the checkbook on the nearby coffee table, and tore open the envelope. “Here is a copy of all your assets…”
He flung the big stapled report down on the floor. She grabbed it and thumbed through it, her face contorting, her brows dipped. Her complexion reddened, and his heart raced with excitement.
SHOW TIME, BITCH!
“What’s this?”
“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid with me, Mimi. It’s all the property you own, some of it before we were even divorced, others before we were even married, which you neglected to discuss or admit to owning during the divorce proceedings.”
She looked frantic, vexed, enraged. He pulled out another report, and another, then flopped them down on that bearskin rug. She scrambled around on her knees, her big breasts swinging as she grabbed each one.
“That’s all of your bank accounts… the ones in and out of the country. You’ve got a nice little nest egg, don’t you? Been wringin’ mothafuckers dry since 2015!”
“How’d you get a hold of these?! That’s illegal! This is my private—”
“I don’t give uh fuckity fuck! Don’t grovel down there and talk to me about laws, rules and regulations when you’ve broken each and every one! What you did was illegal! And that’s lie to the judge so you could get more money from me. I have paid so much alimony to you, I could literally own two brand new, fully loaded yachts by now! Not to mention all the free shit you’re getting from all your sugar daddies! They’re married, too. I wonder how their wives would feel about knowin’ their husband is throwin’ their savings at a lying whore?”
He grabbed his cane and began to twirl it faster and faster as fire danced in her eyes and within his soul.
“Did you honestly think this would end well?! You thought you could take ME down? Lazarist Zander?! That’s hilarious! You thought I was gonna let you blackmail me and treat me like some pussy?! You must’ve forgotten who tha fuck you were dealin’ with, Mimi!” He dumped the rest of the contents out onto the rug and sat down on the coffee table, crossing his ankles leisurely as he watched her squirm.
“If I still smoked I would light up right now. Seeing you losin’ your fuckin’ mind with these courtside tickets is a real treat!”
“Shut up! SHUT. UP!” she screamed so loud, the vein in her neck protruded. Her eyes were huge as she looked over the documents and all the photos of her out and about, exposing all her dirty deeds.
“What? You don’t wanna play with your tits and pussy in front of me anymore?” He laughed. “Not in the mood? Awww, what a shame! You’re all outta time, and I’m all outta fucks to give.”
He reached for his checkbook and tore out the check he’d been working on, then let it fall from his fingertips. It fluttered to the white fur, landing face up. She paused, her chest heaving and breathing harsh as she reached for it and read it. The paper shook in her hand. With shaky legs, she got to her feet.
“Get out… Get out. GET OUT!”
He stood back up to his feet, elation filling him, and he was sure it showed. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he glared down at her.
“Now see, the old me would present all of this shit to the judge right now and have your ass thrown in jail before the sun set. But someone I love told me I should feel sorry for you, and not hate you. I’m not there yet… I’m not on Sky’s level when it comes to this whole forgiveness bullshit, but let me tell you something.” He dropped low and jammed his finger in her face. “If you so much as think about fuckin’ me over, coming to the Fallen Angel which you are banned from, contacting my mother, my sister, or Sky again, I will be singing like a motherfuckin’ bird, my ass down at the courthouse in person with goddamn bells on! You’re lucky I don’t hit women, Mimi.” He seethed.
“Because my mind is tellin’ me no… but this fist!” He balled it up and bared his teeth like an enraged lion. “This fist is tellin’ me yeeeessss!”
He snatched himself up to his full height. “And for the record, guess what? I’m gettin’ married. That sweet, little innocent woman you think I’m in love with is not as sweet and innocent as you think she is. She used to fuck up women like you. She and her little friends would beat the daylights outta people they felt did them wrong. Sky had a few assault charges from back in the day. Boy, is she scrappy! See, I do background checks now—I learned my lesson. Trust me, she’s definitely my type. At one point in time, she didn’t take shit lying down, either. She was angry, mad at the world… But now, she’s matured. A guy like me though?” He grimaced as shook his head. “I’m still a card carrying petty ass motherfucker.”
He grabbed his cane and twirled it some more, laughing and dancing his way on out the door…
CHAPTER TWENTY
Experience is the Father of Wisdom
DAD WAS SITTING at his cluttered desk in the busy social services office, the printer buzzing behind him as it spat out copies of God only knew what. It was a noisy place, full of chatter and crying babies.
He chewed on the end of his black Bic pen, his thin rimmed glasses sliding a bit down his narrow nose. Deep, dark flawless skin, with the exception of a scar he’d received as a boy playing stick ball, glowed under the office light. Pulling out a drawer with a hard tug, he removed his paper bag lunch, from which he retrieved a shiny red apple. He began to type again, only pausing to take a bite from it. Sky rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and flopped back in her chair across from him.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like? I’m working.”
“You invited us up to have lunch with you so you could finally meet Lazarist. He’s down there waiting and you know it.”
“He can wait for a minute. I have work to do… I’m a very busy man,” he stated matter-of-factly, speaking around a mouthful of mushed apple.
This is a game to him… some passive aggressive mess. He always does this when he doesn’t like what’s going on!
“Just admit it. When I told you that Lazarist asked me to marry him and I said yes, you weren’t happy.”
“I said I was happy for ya, didn’t I?” The man looked perturbed. Lips pursed, he looked her up and down, as if she were suddenly the problem. Hopping up from her seat, she gathered her coat and purse.<
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“I’m not doin’ this with you today, Dad. I am going down to the cafeteria. We’ll wait for you there. If you come you come. If you don’t, you don’t.”
Dad said nothing, just sat there chewing his apple and looking at the computer screen as if she wasn’t there speaking to him. Sky made her way towards the elevator. Minutes later, she found Lazarist sitting in the large, busy cafeteria, a tray before him with three bags of potato chips, three sodas, three saran wrapped sandwiches, three saran wrapped salads, three pre-packaged large cookies probably laden with preservatives, and a big, shit-eating grin on his face. She marched towards him and sat beside him, mad as hell.
“What’s up?” He cracked open a can of Diet Coke and handed it to her.
She grabbed the soda, then a straw off the tray. After plopping it inside of the container, she took a long drawl and swallowed hard.
“He’s acting up. I can’t stand this shit. He’s such a big ass baby! Now he is stalling, inconveniencing people on purpose.” At this, Lazarist chuckled. “It’s not funny, Laz. You have no idea how irritating he is when he gets like this. It’s his way of trying to keep control of everything. First, he cancelled on us twice when you tried to meet him. Now he is up there at his desk acting like he has a pressing matter to attend to. He processes Head Start applications and WIC benefits! He acts like he is up there doing mayoral duties!”
Lazarist laughed even louder this time and leaned in close, taking her hand.
“If he feels like he has to be in control, then let’s just pretend like he is… at least at first.”
His eyes narrowed on her. She didn’t know what the hell Lazarist was talking about, and then, it suddenly sank in.
“I told you that he was strict when I was kid.” Lazarist nodded as he reached for the chips, opened the packet, and began to eat. “When I got older, I was harder to control and he and I would butt heads. My father is very old fashioned, despite not being really that old. But, he loved me and took great care of me. I can never take that away from him. Like, for example, he never had a bunch of strange women in the house. He’d introduce me to various girlfriends over the years, but only after he’d dated them for quite some time. He was real careful about who was around me… said he didn’t want any bad influences.”
Bringing up that memory made her feel a bit less edgy, less angry at Dad. Laz squeezed her hand.
“And that’s what he’s doing now. Protecting you, or at least, that’s what he believes. He knows marriage is supposed to be a lifelong commitment, Sky. He wants the best for you. He probably thinks I am not it, and that’s fine. We’re still getting married regardless, but give me some credit, now. I deal with hardnosed business negotiations from time to time. I am used to men like your father. I’m the king of bullshit, remember?”
She shoved him on the shoulder and burst into giggles. Just then, she saw her father in the distance.
“There he is…” she whispered, as if the guy approaching were some FBI agent. Laz looked over where she pointed.
“All right, let me handle this.” He wiped his hands with a napkin and sat a bit taller, then stood to his full height. Sky instantly noticed people turning and looking at Laz. Yup. When he got up from the chair, he looked like a giant, especially now that he stood next to her father, who was 5’10 on his best day. Dad, however, didn’t look the least bit moved or intimidated. He glared up at her man. Lazarist extended his hand. With a stern expression, Dad shook it.
“Hello, Mr. Jordan. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Dad smiled ever so slightly but didn’t return the compliment. Instead, he plopped down on the chair opposite them and placed his paper bag lunch onto the table. He removed a small container of soup, a silver spoon from home, and what looked to be leftover jerk chicken, rice, and fried plantains. Lazarist clasped his hands and smiled.
“Mr. Jordan, your daughter and I are getting married.”
“I know. I don’t like how I found out. I think this is pretty damn disrespectful. This isn’t the way this shoulda gone, and I mean that.” Dad shot her a harsh look.
“Oh, here we go…” Sky rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“I’m not certain I follow you, Mr. Jordan.”
“Well then, let me draw you a map with words so you can follow along. Wouldn’t want you getting lost,” Dad barked, being as indignant as he wanted to be. “In my day, the man would ask the parents for permission to marry their daughter. I—”
“Dad you are a trip! I can’t believe this… Well, actually I can. Your day has been over since Moses parted the Red Sea. You know what, this is ridiculous! We have better things to do than—”
Lazarist reached below the table and tapped her knee, stopping her in mid-sentence.
“Let him finish,” Lazarist stated in almost a whisper.
“Thank you.” Dad narrowed his eyes on Sky, then turned his venom back towards Lazarist. “Now, I’m going to be real with you. My parents were from Jamaica so I understand things are different here. My ex-wife, Sky’s mother, was African American. She knew nothing else but this place. I was born and raised here, too, but my parents were old school and I tried to follow in their footsteps—and that includes respecting their way of how men and women handle marriage. Another problem I have—and I will be honest though once again, it’s not the most popular thought… I am not one of these liberals though and I believe in pride in oneself.”
“Don’t you dare start up with this Black love mess again!”
“I wanted Sky with someone like herself.” Laz cocked his head to the side, but remained quiet. “She’s my only child… my only daughter.” He pointed at her. “And this isn’t anything personal against you, but I don’t understand that with all of the Black men in New York, my daughter had to bring the tallest White son of uh gun she could find to my door! Not only that, you’ve been married a gazillion times. Something isn’t right here and I’m not going to pretend like it is!”
“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Sky jerked around in her seat, wishing to just leave and never look back. Lazarist, on the other hand, was smiling from ear to ear as he leaned into the table and clasped his hands.
“Mr. Jordan, I can sympathize with how you feel. I don’t have any children, so I can’t understand what it’s like to be a father.” He took Sky’s hand in his as he continued to speak. “But, I imagine if and when I become one, I would honestly just want someone for my children who treats them right… someone who loves them and is committed to them, takes care of their needs, and is a good support system to them.”
Dad visibly rolled his eyes and huffed, then crossed his legs.
“At the end of the day, we have to trust their judgment, even if we have concerns. You’ve raised her; that’s over with now. I can more than take care of Sky, Mr. Jordan. I assure you of that.”
“I don’t care about your money, Lazarist.” Dad readjusted his glasses. “I know most parents would probably lick your boots just to have you in their family because they know they’d be taken care of. That’s not me!” Dad said, pointing at himself. “On top of it all, haven’t you been married like, five or six times? With all due respect, Lazarist, what do you possibly know about commitment?”
“Well, now, that’s the second time you’ve brought up my past marriages, so let’s address that. The first thing we need to do, Mr. Jordan,” Lazarist stated calmly, “is to try to keep things factual. You and I can’t have a discussion if it’s only based on emotional statements or manipulative tactics to try and illustrate someone’s unworthiness. Oh, and before I forget, when I brought up taking care of Sky, I wasn’t just talking about the financial aspects. That’s where your mind immediately ventured to—not mine. Now, back to my gazillion marriages…” Laz leisurely cracked open a can of Pepsi and chugged some of it before continuing. “Marriage is an emotional thing, I get it, but it’s also logical and so, if we look at things from that angle, we can navigate this better. If I need to draw you a map
so that you now can follow along, just let me know.”
Dad’s eyes grew large, but thank goodness, he didn’t say anything snappy. “So, let’s look at the facts.” Lazarist began to count off his fingers. “One, I have two ex-wives. Only two. One I married very young, just as you’d done with your ex-wife. We loved one another but as people mature, they change, and that’s essentially what happened. That’s why, in my opinion, looking back, people under twenty-five shouldn’t get married because we’re still getting to know ourselves. But that was a long time ago. She and I are on good terms and there are no hard feelings.
“My second marriage was a huge mistake. I will be the first to admit that. I got married for the wrong reasons. We were not in the same book, let alone on the same page or even chapter. That marriage ended and it didn’t end well. I’ve made my mistakes, Mr. Jordan. I’m a man… and men make mistakes, regardless of our nationality, religion, and occupation. White, Black, Red or Blue, people are flawed. There is no perfect man out here to marry your daughter. A Black man is not guaranteed to treat your daughter any better than I can. Now sure, they’d have more in common culturally, but that within itself doesn’t guarantee a solid, long lasting marriage.
“The divorce rate, for instance, between Black men and Black women is alarming, just like the divorce rate between White men and White women. Did you know, however, that the divorce rate between White men and Black women is the lowest out of all pairings? That’s even more interesting when you consider the fact that these unions still make up a very small percentage of the population. If that’s not beating the odds, I don’t know what is. This isn’t to say marriages like ours will always last; some couples obviously split up. But what it does say is that due to reactions like yours right now, and the world as a whole, we’re already standing up for what we want and going against the grain. We’re getting married despite parental disapproval. We’re getting married despite the blatant racism in this country, and so on.
