Instead of sitting in the house and feeling sorry for herself, Kenya called her best friend and old roommate, Imani, who’d just moved to Atlanta with her husband.
“Imani, it’s Kenya.”
“What’s up, girl?” Imani said.
“Do you feel like heading downtown? Let me introduce you to Atlanta.”
Imani laughed. “I wish I could, but Roland and I are going to a jazz concert at the Foxy.”
“The Fox, you mean. Sounds like fun,” Kenya said, trying to mask her disappointment.
“Want to come with? I’m sure Roland wouldn’t mind.”
“And be a third wheel? I don’t think so.”
In the background, she could hear Imani’s husband, Roland, ask, “Didn’t you go to school with Mo Goings?”
Kenya cringed inwardly at the sound of Maurice’s name. “I’d better let you go,” she said.
“Kenya,” Imani said, “you saw SportsCenter, didn’t you?”
“Girl, please. So what if I did? That was over years ago. I’m just surprised Maurice didn’t trade her in.”
“You still have feelings for him, don’t you? Don’t say you don’t, because I can hear it in your voice.”
“You and your husband had better get going if you want to find parking downtown,” Kenya said. “Maybe we can have lunch tomorrow. Oh shoot, I’m in mediation in the morning.”
“I can’t believe you, Kenya Taylor. You’re still in love with Maurice, and you know that he is a lying, dirty, trifling dog.”
“I know who and what he is. Just hearing that those two are still together . . . and they called her his high-school sweetheart. It got to me a little bit.”
“Babe, ticktock,” Kenya heard Roland say.
“I have to go,” Imani said. “But I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Have fun with your man, and don’t worry about me,” Kenya replied. “I’ll be fine.”
After hanging up the phone, Kenya picked up the Dr. Phil book again and started reading. Maybe there was something hidden in the pages of the book that could help her get Maurice out of her heart.
Monday morning, Maurice should have been sleeping in, or if he had to be up, he should’ve been soaking his sore muscles in a whirlpool. Instead, he was sitting in a television studio, with Lauryn on his arm, pretending that he knew what was going on with his wedding plans.
“And Maurice and I knew we’d get married,” Lauryn said as she hammed it up for the camera. “It was magic at Johnson C. Smith.”
Maurice nodded like a good lapdog.
“Mo, is the wedding going to be a distraction during the playoffs?” the reporter asked.
“No. I love Lauryn, and she understands that right now I have to concentrate on making it to the Super Bowl,” replied Maurice. “I’m going to leave the wedding planning in her capable hands.”
“Yes,” Lauryn said. “I don’t want the fans mad at me. Besides, I want my man to be victorious in February.”
“When’s the wedding going to be?” the reporter asked.
“When else? Valentine’s Day,” Lauryn said.
Thanks for telling me, Maurice thought as he smiled for the cameras.
When the interview was over, he turned to Lauryn and shook his head.
“What?” she asked.
“Why are we doing this?”
“Doing what? Getting married?”
“Turning it into a media spectacle? A wedding is supposed to be between a man and woman, not a man, a woman, and the media.”
Lauryn stroked his cheek. “But you’re famous, and I want all of those women to know that you’re mine.”
Maurice headed out the door, with Lauryn on his heels. “Baby,” she said. “Are you mad?”
He turned around and looked at her. She had a look of innocence on her face, and it melted his heart. “Just tired. This is my day off, remember.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know. I’ll make it up to you when we get home. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek.
As they drove home, Maurice had to question his sanity. Everyone had told him that Lauryn was a gold digger. He’d heard those sorts of things about her since they were in college.
College. Kenya. How was Kenya? He hadn’t talked to her in nine years, and when he went home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, he’d driven by her parents’ house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And if he had seen her, what would he have said to her? She wouldn’t accept his apology nine years ago. Would she now?
“Maurice! The light is red!” Lauryn shouted, interrupting his thoughts.
“Sorry.” He slowed the car so that he wouldn’t blow through the light.
“Maybe I need to run you a bath and let you relax while I hang out with Mya for a while.”
“If you want to. I’ll probably study some film and sleep. Oh, Homer and his girl want us to have dinner with them tonight at Morton’s. Cool?”
“All right,” she said flatly. “What’s this girl’s name?”
“I don’t know. Just try to be nice.”
“That’s all I can do. Try,” she said as he pulled into driveway of their home.
Moments after entering the house, Maurice headed for the marble spa tub in his master bathroom, and Lauryn grabbed the phone.
“Mya,” she said. “We need to talk. Why don’t I come over and we have lunch?”
“Don’t you have another news show to do?” asked Mya.
“You can’t blame me for what I’m doing. Do you know how long Mo and I have been together?”
“But does he know what you’re hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“There’s no need for us to meet for lunch, because I’ll see you at dinner,” Mya revealed.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, I’ve decided to go after some NFL money, too. It just so happens that he’s Mo’s best friend.”
“Don’t do this, Mya.”
“I’m just following your lead. You can’t have it both ways, do as I say and not as I do.”
The dial tone sounded in Lauryn’s ear. How could Mya do this? What was she trying to prove by dating Mo’s best friend?
“Lauryn,” Maurice called from the bathroom, “you want to join me?”
“I have to run to Mya’s, but I’ll rub your back when I return,” she said as she opened the door to leave.
Moments later, Lauryn found herself sitting in front of a moss-covered apartment complex in the historic Southpark community. Thinking back, she realized that the day she and Mya had met in college, everything had changed for her. Mya had opened her eyes to a new world of pleasure, a world of loving a woman. For the last eight years, they’d kept their affair a secret.
One night, while Mya and Lauryn were in their dorm room, Mya had popped in a videotape of two women kissing and making love. Though it was pornography, Lauryn had never seen sex depicted so tenderly and so erotically. It turned her on, and she wasn’t sure what to make of her feelings. Turning to Mya, she had said, “What is this?”
Mya had smiled as she muted the volume. “Ever wonder what it would be like to be touched that way?”
“By a woman?”
Mya closed the space between them. “By me.”
Before Lauryn could react, Mya had had her in her arms and had kissed her with an intensity that she’d never felt before.
Shaking her head, Lauryn emerged from the car. She had to do something. No longer could she deny what she felt for Mya, but was that enough to give up what she’d built with Maurice? Could she give up that money? Give up what came along with being an NFL wife?
It wasn’t as if Mya didn’t reap a reward from Lauryn’s relationship with Maurice. As she walked up the steps leading to Mya’s place, she resolved to end her relationship with Mya. It had gone on too long. Besides, she wasn’t gay. Was she?
No, this is over. I’m ending this, and she can do what she wants to with whomever she plea
ses, Lauryn thought as she pressed the door chime.
Mya opened the door, dressed in a short silk bathrobe. Temporarily, Lauryn was rendered speechless when she saw her. Emerald was definitely her color.
“We-we need to talk,” Lauryn said when she found her voice.
Mya raised her sculpted eyebrows. “I knew you were the one at the my door,” she said as she stood aside.
Lauryn walked into the living room and ran her hand across the mantel above the fireplace. “I can’t do this anymore, and if you want to date Homer, then go right ahead and do it.”
“I don’t want him, L. I want you. How do you think I feel watching you with Maurice and knowing that in a few months you’ll have this lavish wedding? You can’t go through with it.”
“You’re insane.”
“And you love me. Admit it.”
“I-I . . .”
Mya dropped her robe, revealing her toned and naked body. “You love me, you need me, and you don’t want to marry Maurice.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Really? What are you then? You love sexing me more than being with Mo, your words, not mine.”
“I know what I said. I didn’t mean it.”
“Then why are you here?” Mya inched closer to her. “You could’ve told me this over the phone, in an e-mail, or on my BlackBerry.”
Their lips were inches apart. Mya wrapped her arms around Lauryn’s waist, pulling her closer until she could easily devour her lips.
Though Lauryn should’ve pushed away, she gave into the kiss, allowing Mya to strip her down and kiss every inch of her body until she felt as if she was going to explode.
“Don’t marry him,” Mya breathed against Lauryn’s ear. “We can be together, make a life together.”
“No,” Lauryn whispered, holding Mya tightly. “I’m going to marry him.”
Mya pushed Lauryn away. “You’re never going to be happy with him, and I’m not going to be your little secret anymore.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s over. You can live this lie if you want to, but I won’t do it anymore.”
“Mya, I-I . . .”
Stepping back, Mya pointed toward the door. “Eight years, Lauryn, and that’s too long for me to play the background like this. You won’t let me move on with my life, and you don’t want to be a real part of my life. We’re not just friends. That line was crossed a long time ago.”
Lauryn dropped her head in her hands. “Please don’t do this. Don’t ask me to choose when I want you both.”
“No more. You can’t have both. Go on. Walk out the door, if you can.”
Lauryn turned to the door and tried not to look back. But once she grasped the doorknob, she turned around and saw Mya in tears. There was no way she could leave.
Chapter 3
“That’s it, that’s it. The Carolina Panthers win the Super Bowl on a last-second catch by wide receiver Maurice Goings! For the first time in franchise history, the Panthers are world champions,” the announcer yelled excitedly.
Kenya walked away from the bar and back to the table with her coworkers. The firm had rented a ballroom in a downtown hotel for a Super Bowl party. Because she was playing office politics, Kenya was pretending to be enjoying herself. But every time she heard Maurice’s name or saw a flash of his fiancée on the screen, she wanted to vomit.
Wallace Norman, one of the lawyers in Kenya’s department, took a seat beside her.
“Having fun?” he said as he sucked down a beer.
“Oh yeah,” she said flatly.
“Didn’t you go to school with Mo Goings?”
“So what if I did? Obviously, we didn’t keep in touch,” she snapped.
“Hey,” he replied, throwing his hands up. “Don’t bite my head off.” He pushed his beer bottle aside and smiled at Kenya.
Kenya rose to her feet. She’d had enough of this crap. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Wallace stood, cornering her so that she couldn’t get away. “You know what you need, Kenya? A good, long—”
“Can you say ‘sexual harassment’?”
“Let me finish. A good massage,” he said, obviously backpedaling in terms of what he was going to say. “You walk around the office, looking tense and mad all the time. Do you have a man in your life?”
“Get away from me.”
“One date? Dinner, movie, and maybe a nightcap.”
Kenya looked at Wallace. He was attractive, about six feet tall, muscular, and the color of milk chocolate. But he was ultra-arrogant. The last thing she needed was to get involved with another man with an ego.
She wasn’t about to let another man come into her life and break her heart ever again. Wallace looks like a heart-breaker, she thought as she slipped on her coat.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Wallace. Relationships aren’t my thing, and dating doesn’t rank on my list of priorities. I have way too much work on my plate, and I don’t need distractions.”
Nodding, Wallace took a step back. “So you’re one of those women, Miss Super Career Chick, who doesn’t need a man? All right, Miss Kenya. But money can’t give you babies, kiss you at night, or hold you when it’s cold.”
She shook her head and placed her purse on her shoulder. “I can adopt, kiss a dog, and invest in an electric blanket. Good night.”
“What are you? A lesbian or something?”
“Do you find it so hard to believe that I don’t want you? You’re not Mr. Irresistible. I can live without you. I’ve gotten along just fine this long. I think I’ll make it through the night.”
“Whatever,” Wallace snapped as Kenya turned her back and headed out the door.
As she stepped into the crisp night air, Kenya thought about what Wallace had said about her career. Yes, she’d replaced her longing for love with a drive to succeed. Kenya didn’t mind working eighty hours a week, coming in on the weekend, or working though the holidays.
To the firm’s partners, Kenya was a shining star. But to her friends and family, she was a train wreck waiting to happen. No one had the guts to tell her, though.
Aside from the occasional business dinner, Kenya didn’t go out. Imani was married, so they didn’t cruise the bars. The one guy she’d dated briefly couldn’t keep her interested. He was handsome, stable, and looking for a relationship. But to Kenya, he was a bottle of Lunesta with legs.
Even now she couldn’t remember his name or anything they’d done in the month they’d spent together. She’d broken up with him, using work as her excuse. But the truth was, he wasn’t Maurice.
Jubilant. Euphoric. These were the feelings that Maurice should have been experiencing. Instead, he was filled with dread and gloom. Now that the season was over, he was going to have to go through with this wedding. It wasn’t the thought of marriage that got to him, because he loved Lauryn. It was the spectacle that she’d turned it into. There were going to be camera crews, a write-up in Carolina Bride magazine, and a feature on News 6’s The Carolina Traveler.
As soon as he walked into the locker room, a spray of champagne hit him in the face. “MVP, MVP,” his teammates chanted.
Wiping his face, Maurice joined in the celebration, snatching a bottle of champagne from Homer and taking a big swig.
“Man, we are the champions. We’re on top,” Homer said.
“Yeah,” Maurice said flatly.
“Wedding bell blues?” asked Homer.
“I wish there was one more game, man. This wedding is a hassle. We could have gotten married on an island somewhere, without all this fanfare.”
“You know how women are. They want that Cinderella crap, those Disney weddings, and they think happily ever after, as long as the money doesn’t run out.”
“Lauryn isn’t like that.”
Homer popped Maurice with a towel. “Don’t be fooled. They’re all like that,” he said before heading for the shower.
Maurice knew Homer was wrong. He knew one woman who didn’t care about m
oney and what he had to offer.
Kenya.
He found it funny that he always thought of Kenya at the strangest of times. Was his subconscious telling him that she was the one that he was supposed to be sharing his success with? After all, she’d helped him lay the foundation, and how had he repaid her? By letting her find out on her own that he was with another woman, without any warning. Nine years ago he’d allowed her to walk out of his life, and he felt so guilty about the way things had ended that he had never tried to contact her and apologize.
His mother, Maryann, had loved Kenya and had not been happy the day Maurice brought Lauryn home for Thanksgiving.
“Maurice, come in the kitchen and help me,” Maryann had said when she’d walked in on Lauryn and Maurice kissing again.
“Mrs. Goings, I’ll help you,” Lauryn had said.
“That’s quite all right, Mo, let’s go,” Maryann had replied.
He’d followed his mother into the kitchen, knowing full well that he was going to be the one needing help.
“I don’t like her. What happened to Kenya? She was smart, respectful, and wore clothes that covered her body.”
“She had a lot more body to cover,” Maurice had mumbled.
Maryann had popped Maurice on the hand with a wooden spoon. “What happened between you two?”
“People just grow apart.”
“Or did that one just part her legs?”
“Ma.” He wasn’t going to talk about his sex life with his mother.
“All I’m saying is you have a future, and she’s riding your coattails. What does she really know about you?”
“We’re getting to know each other. I really care about Lauryn.”
“Don’t get her pregnant, and don’t make Kenya hate you. Kenya was a good girl, and she really cared about you, not your potential earnings, as if she’s a bank about to offer you a loan. I see it in that girl’s eyes, Maurice. She out for money.”
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