As usual, Jrue had a key waiting for me at the front desk. I made it up to the fifth floor to room 505 and slid the key in the lock. The moment I opened the door it’s a wonder I didn’t go into premature labor. My jaw dropped. There were red rose petals all over the floor. I could barely see the Berber carpet the petals were so thick. The sounds of Maxwell’s “Sumthin’ Sumthin’ ” from Love Jones flooded the room while the sweet smell of vanilla was in the air. I felt tears in my eyes as I stepped around the corner and found Jrue sitting in the chair. He looked sexy as hell, leaning back against the cushions, legs wide, wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxers.
“Hey, baby.” He grinned.
“Hi, sexy.” I dropped my purse down on the nightstand and smiled. The bed was also covered in rose petals, but what had my attention was that beautiful pink box with the large bow that was right smack at the center of the bed. I wanted to rush over and open it, but I decided to pretend like I hadn’t even noticed. After all, this was his show and I didn’t want to spoil it for him. “What’s all this?” I asked with a sweep of my hand.
“Just wanted to show my baby how special she really is to me.”
He had transformed our spot into something special. I don’t know if I ever loved that man more. He had always been thoughtful and considerate and doing things to surprise me, but never anything like this.
“I can’t believe you did all this for me!” I was grinning like a damn fool because seeing all the trouble he had gone through made me feel so good. As I gazed around the room I even spotted a box of chocolates from The Candy Factory on the small table beside him. “Are those chocolate-covered strawberries?” I gasped. Jrue knew how much I craved them.
He nodded.“Absolutely. Only the best for you. Now come over here and give your man some love.”
I swayed my hips playfully as I moved over to the chair. As soon as I was close enough, Jrue reached out and pulled me down onto his lap.
“How are you and my son feeling this afternoon?” he asked, and gently caressed my stomach.
“Me and your daughter are fine now that we’re here with you.” I laughed because we’d been debating for the last few weeks about the sex of the baby. He wanted a little basketball player and, of course, if I had to do it, I required a little diva like myself.
Jrue leaned in close and we French-kissed for what felt like forever but still wasn’t long enough. Jrue then reached over and opened the box of strawberries and brought one to my mouth. I bit down and moaned as I chewed. It was so sweet and delicious. Just like the man holding me in his arms.
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble. The roses . . . the music . . . even the scented candles. I didn’t know you could be so romantic.”
He offered me another bite of the strawberry. “Trinette, this is just a taste of what life is going to be like once we’re finally together.”
I loved the way that sounded.
“In fact . . . I got something for you.” He gestured toward the bed. “Go ahead, open it.”
“For me?” I broke out in another grin.
He helped my pregnant ass to my feet. I walked over to the bed and took a seat, then reached for the beautifully wrapped package. “Let’s see what’s inside.” I was giggling and feeling like a preschooler on Christmas morning. Once I opened the box, I pushed aside the tissue paper and gasped. “Oooh, baby! It’s beautiful!” I squealed. It was the orange Christian Dior dress I had been admiring on a mannequin at Nordstrom. As well as the purple and orange Jimmy Choo’s I had been whining about for weeks. “Thank you so much!” I rushed over to him and landed on his lap in a whoosh! “I love you. . . . I love you,” I said between kisses.
He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. Now put those pumps on for your man.”
I was more than happy to model them. I rose and reached for the box and as soon as I pulled the shoes out, something dropped onto the floor. I looked down and my heart started pounding.
A small blue box from Tiffany’s.
I looked from the box back up at Jrue, who was grinning. I was shaking so hard I couldn’t even move.
“You know I love you, right?” Jrue rose and I watched as all that sexy chocolate came over to the bed. Goodness, he was gorgeous. He dropped down on one knee in front of me and held out the box.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
I felt like I was about to hyperventilate as I took the box from his hands and opened it.
“I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”
Obviously he didn’t love me enough because inside were a pair of diamond studded earrings. There were at least two carats, but that was beside the point. I had been expecting an engagement ring.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” I tried to hide my disappointment. How much longer did I have to wait before he proved to me how much he wanted me and his baby?
“Not as beautiful as you, but definitely close enough.” Jrue rose and then started unbuttoning my blouse. “I can’t wait until I can buy you something even more precious that comes in a small box.” He unsnapped my bra and moaned with appreciation when he saw my breasts spring free. They had been growing so much I had to buy new bras. Jrue caught a nipple between his teeth and I felt myself weakening. “I can’t wait to put a ring on your finger and make you officially mine.”
“What’s stopping you?” I asked. Hell, as far as I was concerned, it was long past due. What in the world was he waiting on? I mean, sure, I couldn’t wear the ring now, but at least knowing that he had every intention of leaving his skinny-ass wife and spending the rest of his life with me was enough for me. I loved him, but there was no way I was leaving the security of my marriage with Leon until I knew for sure my future was secure with Jrue. You know the saying, a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. Neither he nor my unborn child was as secure as the future I already had. And I refused to settle for anything less. But I had no doubt that this baby was going to lure Jrue in. That and some of Ms. Netta’s caramel goodness.
“Baby, you know why,” he answered, and I could tell by the tone of his voice he was sick of talking about it all the time. Well, too bad. I was sick of waiting. “I can’t leave her just yet. I need to make sure her cancer is still in remission before I ask her for a divorce. I promise you, baby, it’s going to happen, but I’m just not that cold-blooded to simply dump my wife. I just need a little more time.” His eyes were pleading with me to understand.
So sue me. I’m selfish and wanted him all to myself. Fuck his wife. Every time she brought her Olive Oyl–looking ass to the job, she looked healthy to me. In all honesty, I think Charlotte sensed she was about to lose Jrue and was using her health to hold on to him for as long as she could. Hell, the moment she found out she couldn’t have babies and knew how badly he wanted kids of his own should have been a rude awakening.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long. Otherwise, your daughter is going to be calling someone else daddy.”
Jrue eased back and I saw that muscle just above his dimple tick with rage. “The hell she will.”
Ticktock, mothafucka. I laughed to myself. I knew just what to say to piss his ass off. Good. Maybe he’ll hurry his ass up because I was sick of waiting.
“We’re going to be a family before you know it. I promise.” That’s my man. Always trying to reassure me.
Trinette Meyers-Jarmon. I just loved the way that sounded. And, of course, our daughter would be named Symphony. We were going to have a wonderful life.
He was kissing a trail down to my round stomach and my pussy was throbbing with anticipation when I heard his cell phone ring. It was Charlotte. Jrue groaned and rolled over toward his pants.
“Dammit, don’t pick it up.” How dare he stop after getting me all hot and bothered.
“Trinette, you know I have to take this call. Otherwise she’ll blow up my phone until I do.”
I lay there pouting while he retrieved his phone, went into the bathroom, and turned on the exhaust fan w
hile he talked to her in private.
I was sick of being second. Me and the baby had to be first. It was time for Jrue to decide.
17
Nikki
I’d just finished giving a statement to the police when I spotted Tristan parking his Impala a few feet behind the police barricade. He stuck a long leg out of the car just as I rushed over to the driver’s side.
“Tristan?”
He turned to face me, smiled, then sashayed his narrow ass in black skinny jeans, gold stilettos, and a sequin top that hung off one shoulder.
“Tristan . . . what are you doing here?” I asked, then glanced around nervously to see if anyone else had noticed. Then it dawned on me. Why would they? No one other than me, Donovan, and Tammy knew Lorenzo had been messing around with Tristan.
“Lorenzo was supposed to meet me at my apartment an hour ago. Since he wasn’t answering his phone, I thought I’d stop through and see why. What the hell’s going on?”
My heart started thundering heavily. I didn’t know how I was going to tell him Lorenzo was dead. Tristan tried to walk around me so he could get a closer look through the window, but I grabbed his arm and urged him to stop.
“Tristan, wait! I gotta tell you something.”
“What is it, Nikki?” he asked. Then his face changed as if he already knew what I was about to say was going to be really bad. Hell, I didn’t even know where to begin.
“Tammy came by and . . . somehow she found out about you and Lorenzo.”
“What?” His large eyes got round and his jaw dropped. “What did she say?”
“It’s not what she said. It’s what she did.” I took a deep, shaky breath. Ohmygod! This was probably the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
“She left here and went back to her car. She must have had a gun under the seat because she came back and shot up the place. They arrested her about fifteen minutes ago.” Otherwise, she’d be out looking for you.
“Oh . . . my . . . God! No wonder the windows are all busted up. I bet Lorenzo is probably going clean the fuck off! I guess that explains why he hasn’t answered his phone.” His eyes scanned the area, obviously looking for him. At that exact moment two people from the coroner’s office stepped out of the barbershop carrying a body bag.
“Oh no! What happened? Who got killed?” he cried.
“Tristan . . . I . . .” I couldn’t even find the words, but I guess he saw the answer on my face.
“No . . .” Tristan started shaking his head with disbelief. “Nikki, please tell me Lorenzo isn’t in that bag . . . please tell!” he screamed.
I started crying real tears. “I’m sorry.”
“No! No!” he shouted. Then before I could have stopped him, Tristan made a mad dash and flung himself on top of the body, screaming and clutching the bag to his chest. “He can’t be gone!”
If it wasn’t serious, it might have been funny; instead, it was like a bad dream. There was nothing humorous about watching my dear friend’s heart breaking. I hurried over just as two police officers dragged Tristan away, kicking and screaming.
“This can’t be happening!” he wailed. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”
Donovan came rushing out of the barbershop and glared over at me. “What the hell’s he doing here?” he demanded.
“Don, please . . . just leave it alone.”
“Hell nah! Doesn’t he know this shit’s all his fault! You knew he was married!”
I grabbed his arm. “Baby, please, stay out of it.”
“Nah! Nah! That was my boy. He was like a brother to me. Now he’s gone, dammit, over some fag. Now he’s gone!” And then he broke down and started bawling. I had never in my life heard my husband cry like that before. I hugged him close and tears started running down my eyes again. Tristan was sobbing as well while he stood off to the side with one of the officers, probably giving them more information than they were looking for. My heart went out to both of them. One had lost his best friend; the other had lost the best thing to happen to him in a long time.
That evening it was all over the news about Lorenzo having an affair with a gay man and his wife finding out her husband was on the down low and killing him. Some people said they would have done the same thing and that she had every right. All I could do was shake my head.
I put Aiden to bed, then went to check on Donovan. He’d been quiet most of the evening. Not that I blamed him. His best friend was dead and his wife now behind bars.
I stepped into the family room and found the television on, but he clearly wasn’t watching it.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked and smiled, hoping that it would make him feel better. He just kept sitting there staring at the television like he had also died this afternoon. “Don, did you hear me?”
He looked to his right and glared at me. “How long had you known Lorenzo was gay?”
I shrugged. “Not that long. A couple of months.”
“But you knew he was sleeping with Tristan?” He gave me this look like he was accusing me of pulling the trigger.
“I think it was more than just sex between them. Tristan was in love with him.”
Donovan scowled. “Yeah, right,” he said like I was lying.
I stepped farther into the room with a hand at my hip. “Why are you mad at me?”
There was that hateful look again. “I’m curious what secrets Tristan’s keeping for you. I mean, you knew who he was fucking, so who’s to say he doesn’t know who you’re fucking as well.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re not trying to go there again.”
“Yeah, I am, and I asked you a question. Who you been fucking around with?”
I refused to have this conversation, and part of me was afraid that if he looked at me long enough he would see the truth.
Yes, I had an affair three and a half years ago. It was during Donovan’s deployment to Iraq, but only because I had thought our marriage had been over. After the death of our daughter, our marriage wasn’t the same. We didn’t talk, rarely made love. It was like we were two zombies coexisting. By the time his unit had been called up, we were both relieved for the distance. Six months into his deployment, Donovan wrote me a letter telling me he wanted a divorce.
Devastated, I ended up in the arms of a gorgeous widower, Kenyon Monroe, who I thought was everything I needed to help me get on with my life. Instead, he had turned out to be a psychopath. When Donovan and I decided to give our marriage another chance, Kenyon was livid and ended up trying to kill me.
But even after we got back together, I never told Donovan about the affair. At first I tried; then I thought it was irrelevant. Kenyon had been sent to a state mental facility and was no longer in my life.
That was the one and only time I had ever had an affair, so his comment pissed me off. I turned and was heading out of the room when he sprung from his chair and raced across the room so fast I ran into the corner of the bookshelf.
“Oww!” I cried.
But instead of my husband coming to my aid to see if his wife was okay, he mean-mugged me. “What you rushing for? You got something to hide?”
“Seriously? I just banged my hip on the bookshelf and you’re worried about what I’m hiding. I’m not hiding a got-damn thing!” I screamed. The pain in my side made me mad and gave me the strength to lie. At this late in the game, there was no way in hell I was telling him about the affair.
“Do you have any idea how many soldiers came home to find their wives gone . . . bank accounts drained . . . and kids that weren’t even theirs? I was over there fighting for my country . . . providing for my family!”
Oh my goodness, this was starting to sound like a broken record. “Baby . . . I already know that, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“It means I’m tired of sleeping with one eye open!” He was talking loud and I smelled the tequila on his breath. Donovan had been drinking again.
“I thought you promised to stop drinking.�
�
He slammed his fist through the wall. “My best friend was murdered today and you’re worried about me having a drink! Dammit, Nikki. Get off these nuts!” Donovan pushed past me and moved down the hall. I heard him climbing the steps. As soon as a door slammed upstairs, I fell to my knees onto the floor and cried. Other than prayer, I didn’t have a clue how to save my husband or our marriage.
18
Trinette
“Hey! We need some more T-shirts over here,” I shouted over my shoulder, then smiled down at the little girl in front of me and handed her the last small T-shirt.
“Here ya go,” Zee said as she carried another stack over to the table.
I mopped my forehead. It had been a long, hot September afternoon, and wearing high heels had been a stupid move on my part. Although I would never admit it.
The Festival Art’s carnival was the college’s chance to shine and showcase everything we had to offer to the community with more than 100 educational sessions and hands-on activities. It was a free, fun, educational event with giveaways, arts and crafts vendors, and so much more. I had spent the entire afternoon handing out T-shirts and pamphlets about our department.
I’d been watching my baby’s daddy all afternoon working at the other end of our booth. Jrue looked delectable in blue jeans, a John Tyler T-shirt, and that coochie-curling smile. I wanted to ask him to meet me in the ladies’ room, but those nosy chicks at the table were bound to notice. Speak of the devil . . .
“Trinette . . . when was the last time you took a break?” Jrue asked as he walked down to our end of the table.
I shrugged and tried to pretend like it had been a while. “I’m okay.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. We’re not going to have you falling out on my shift.”
“I know that’s right,” Zee said, and I saw the way her eyes were traveling back between us like she knew something. I thought we had already been over that?
“Have a seat,” he said and pulled a chair over. My man was thoughtful like that. Always thinking about me. That’s why I loved him so much.
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