Nappily Married

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “Were you looking for me?” The voice from countless nightmares landed directly in front of me. I was practically staring up her nostrils. I’d forgotten how tall She was, a full-fledged woman, all right. Picked up a few extra pounds in the breast department—something she didn’t need.

  “Kandi Fairchild, this is Venus Parson.”

  I took a noticeable step back when She extended her claw … I mean hand. “It’s good to see you, Venus.”

  When I realized there were no secret weapons attached, I shook her hand. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Both of us will be vying for the same position?” Dry gasps followed. My mouth was still open, but nothing was coming.

  She smiled wide with the sides of her mouth turned up like the Joker in Batman. “I thought it was a perfect idea. Two candidates competing toe to toe for the same position.”

  “I guess I’m a little in the dark.” I looked to Morgan for clarification, but she’d found something more interesting in the opposite direction and refused to look my way.

  “You both get to handle PR. The person that exudes the best qualities will get the job. Sort of like a trial period for both of you.”

  I felt my right eye twitching. I swallowed and adjusted my tone, remembering that She was probably enjoying my reaction. “Great. I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Excellent.” Morgan looked satisfied, as if she were actually in control of the situation. She reached out and touched Kandi’s hand and then mine. “I really appreciate you two going along with this. It’s unusual, I know, but I already like what I see. Kandi, please show Venus to her new office. I have a nursing staff meeting I need to look in on. Then we can all three sit down together at noon for an all systems go.”

  We watched Morgan’s heels pump away at high speed. Left alone, we dropped the pretense energy.

  She faced me. “This should be interesting, don’t you think? Us working together, I mean. Who would have thought?”

  “Not in a million years. I didn’t know you had a background in public relations. I guess working with third-graders may qualify?”

  “I’ve worked here at this hospital for the last year. I’ve prepared most of the press releases for Morgan since all of this media hype broke out.” She wasted no time getting to what really mattered. “From what Clint told me, you’ve been doing the housewife thing for the last couple of years.”

  “Right, yeah. Loved being at home, but it’s time to get back to work.”

  “I’m sure your baby and husband are going to miss you. He’s a rapper, right? JP … Juicy hips … luscious lips. I remember him. He only had that one song, right? Like a one-hit-wonder kind of thing. So is he covered head to toe in bling-bling?” She covered her mouth to stifle her fake amusement. “Do you guys know P. Diddy?”

  I attempted to answer at least one of her stupid questions, but she was faster.

  “What’s that like … being married to a—”

  “—successful businessman,” I spoke over her. “I’m sure it’s nothing like the calm peaceful life of being married to a doctor.” I held my breath steady, trying not to let on she’d pushed every one of my buttons. “JP Wear is a multimillion-dollar company. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

  “Right. And yet you still feel the need to work?”

  “Same as you, I guess. I didn’t know doctors’ wives needed extra income.” I kept my focus and calm. In a different setting, she would’ve been eating my pointed-toe slingback.

  “Of course I don’t need extra income, but I like feeling needed, having goals and purpose.”

  “Exactly, I couldn’t have said it better. Sounds like we’re on the same page.” I was still breathing shallowly. Her perfume was doing a number on my sinuses. Seems the doctor’s wife should’ve been able to do better than Lady Stetson.

  “You know what, I can see where all this conversation is going,” I said, swallowing my pride. “It’s going to be awkward, us working together. But honestly, the past is the past. I wish you nothing but the best.” I had no reason to be bitter. She got Clint, and I got a great life.

  She seemed relieved. “We never really got to know each other back then, you’re right. Let’s start over.” Her hand extended, poised for a shake, then suddenly drew to her belly. She circled and rubbed as if she had a tummy ache.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, only slightly concerned.

  She held up her claws in truce. “Oh, yes, fine. I’m in my first trimester. The nausea gets to me sometimes.”

  “You’re pregnant.” I, too, felt nauseated. “Congratulations.”

  I followed Kandi into an office no bigger than my walk-in closet. “Here you are.” Her hand lifted like a Price Is Right model. The small space was filled with file boxes stacked against the wall with dates felt-penned on the sides. The prison shade of gray on the walls told me it probably was used for storage at some point.

  “Knock, knock.” A short stocky man came behind us and stood in the doorway with another box. He moved past me and shoved it on top of the others then offered to shake my hand. “I’m Jasper Callaway.”

  The shiny dome on the top of his head caught my attention. At five feet two and a half, I didn’t usually see the tops of many people’s heads. “Welcome aboard.” He put out his hand, onions, garlic—possibly both—emanated from his breath, skin, and, well everywhere.

  “Thank you.”

  “Jasper is my assistant. He can answer any questions you might have.” She turned and left with a crawly wave of her fingers.

  Jasper closed the door. “Nice lady. I’ve worked at this hospital for twenty years, and she’s the most pleasant of additions.”

  “You’ve been here twenty years?”

  “Actually, twenty-three.”

  “And you’re an assistant?” I said, visibly mortified.

  “I’ve had a variety of positions at this hospital. Assistant is a general term.”

  “Great. Well, I’m glad we’ll be working together. Someone who’s been here that long will definitely be an asset.” I walked to the door and pulled it open. “I’ll give you a shout if I need anything.” I stood off to the side, waiting for him to use the door I’d opened for him.

  “No problem. I’m right here with you. I’ll help you get organized.” He took a seat behind a stack of boxes.

  “No, really, you don’t have to stay.” I peered over, surprised to see a desk and chair set up with a telephone and a tiny plaque that said, jasper callaway.

  “Jasper. Is this your office, or mine?”

  He looked up, adjusting his flat square glasses. “Ours,” he said somewhat amused. “We’re sharing. Mrs. Fairchild is in charge of office space assignments. She decided we should share.”

  This wasn’t happening.

  “Execuse me. I’ll be right back.” I moved swiftly tothe door and outside to a maze of cubicles filling up as the morning progressed. I made my way down one aisle, then up another, looking for any seat open. Bingo—a cubicle devoid of family photos or dead-flower-filled vases from three birthdays ago.

  “Is anyone using this space,” I asked the young woman sitting on the other side.

  “That’s Tammy’s desk. She’s on maternity leave,” the young woman said without looking up.

  “I am,” a voice called from a short distance away. Kandi came gliding toward me. She slid into the cubicle and sat down, crossing her cinnamon stick legs that extended far past her skirt.

  “Don’t you have an office?”

  “I do,” she said gleefully, “but I wear many hats around here, and I need a place to spread out.”

  Spreading out was her forte, as I recalled. The affair she’d had with Tyson Edwards, while seeing Clint at the same time was proof she was very good at spreading herself out and around. I’d told Clint about her affair with Tyson Edwards, a married man: “Hello, she was messing around on you.” Clint didn’t want to hear what I had to say on the subject of Kandi back then, and I was sure nothing had changed.r />
  “This is the last empty space.” She scooted closer to the desk.

  “I can’t share a space with Jasper. That won’t work out for me.”

  “I definitely understand where you’re coming from. It’s like he’s wearing garlic around his neck or something.” A pruned smile rose on her face.

  “Jasper just told me you were in charge of office spaces. I think it’s a little strange you would have me sharing such a small space with him when there’s a perfectly good open space right here.”

  “We really are limited on space around here.” Her voice was like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard. She let her hand slide to her belly. I refused to let my eyes drop to what she wanted to be the center of attention.

  “I have an idea,” I blurted out, needing to shut her up, “why don’t we share, just like the old days. You remember how to share, don’t you?” I winked and backed away slowly. “See you around.”

  I felt the rush of air as she sucked in a gasp. Water under the bridge, my foot, I was thinking as I did my best switch and stroll. She had no idea what kind of hidden fury lurked underneath my mild-mannered suit. The soft pink must’ve given her the impression I was cotton candy. Wrong. Let the games begin.

  Catfight

  I took my shoes off in the car and drove home feeling like I’d boxed thirteen rounds with Laila Ali. I was boiling mad at the thought of the She-whore running around like she owned the entire hospital. I wanted nothing more than to show her up, prove once and for all who was the better woman … for the job, of course.

  Jake’s car was parked and still a bit warm when I pulled into the garage. The house was quiet and dark. Music trailed from our bedroom as I took each stair with great labor. Jake was just getting out of the shower.

  I debated on telling him how my day went. Somehow I knew he would not be amused.

  “Hey, baby.” I kissed him softly on his moist nose. He drew me in for a full tongue exchange. I was thinking what a far better kisser I was than She. Not that I’d kissed her myself, just an educated guess—with her mouth so wide and those juicy sticky lips, fine, if you like that kind of thing.

  I gently eased off Jake’s bottom lip, thinking this was how it’s done, simple, pleasurable, not too messy.

  “How was your first day?” Jake sputtered the magic question.

  “Great. Where’s Mya?” I backed up gently.

  “She and Trina are having a bath.”

  My eyebrow raised.

  “You know what I mean.” He dropped his towel exposing his naked bottom and headed toward the closet. “So you plan to let me in on your day, or what?”

  “It went well.” I began undressing. I sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off my pointed-toe shoes and vowed never to wear them again. My big toe pulsed as the blood rushed to the pinched skin.

  “Did you see the doctor?”

  “There’s lots of doctors. I’m working at a hospital, remember?”

  “Okay, let me be more clear. Did you see Dr. Ex-Lova?” He came out buttoning a pair of his nicer trousers.

  “No. I did not. If you want to know how my day went, ask about My Day. None of this is about him. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Jake’s shoulder had a small tattoo barely the size of a quarter with his initials, JP, in a delicate swirl. I pulled him down toward me until the small tattoo was at eye level. My lips lingered before I put a moist kiss against the spot.

  He softened immediately, sitting down next to me. “I’m sorry.” He lifted my legs over his lap and began to rub and knead the tension away. I rubbed his shoulders simultaneously so we were wrapped around each other.

  “Seems I’m in a competition for the job. The PR director’s position is up for grabs between me and someone else. The administrator isn’t ready to just hand it over. She wants to see some kind of showdown, a battle for the ultimate job. I’ve never been in this kind of situation. It feels weird.”

  “You mean competing for the same job openly?” He grinned from ear to ear. “Are there cameras following you around like The Apprentice ? Have you met the other person?”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaving out the part where the woman who’d married Clint right under my nose was my actual competitor. I knew there was something really wrong with this situation, yet I couldn’t pull myself away.

  “Is it a female?”

  “Why do you ask?” I said, feeling like there was an information ticker on my forehead.

  “Girlfights can get a little nasty.” He scratched at the air. “Want me to teach you some moves, baby?”

  “You’re enjoying this way too much. I’m going to jump in the shower.” I made a swift exit before the truth spilled out of me.

  When I came out, Jake was fully dressed as if he had a date. I squeezed more water out of my hair with the towel then wrapped it good and tight. That was one thing I could say for Trina, she knew how to make a towel as soft as cotton candy. Something I could never do, no matter how much fabric softener I poured in the load.

  “You washed your hair? You knew we were running late.” He stood before me with a loose linen shirt exposing the right amount of smooth pecs with the silver cross hanging from his chain. Modern bohemian, it worked for Jake with his slim goatee and finger-combed hair.

  “Running late, for what?”

  “You forgot.” Disappointment shrouded his face. “That’s okay. That’s cool.”

  “What did I forget?” Then it hit me. He was having a buyer’s party, an excruciatingly boring mixer where he fed and watered the people responsible for getting his clothing on the retailer floors. “It’s tonight. Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”

  “No, really it’s cool.”

  It wasn’t cool. I could see the way his lips tightened up to one side then released.

  “Let me get dressed. Is Trina going to stay with Mya? I’ll just pull my hair back, throw some gel on it. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “Nah, fifteen is going to turn into thirty, and I can’t be late.” He attempted to move past me without so much as a kiss.

  I grabbed his sleeve. “I’m sorry, really. Go on ahead and I’ll come soon as I’m dressed.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Stay home, get some rest.” He kissed my forehead and left.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and reasoned that it was probably for the best. I was exhausted. Not to mention he hadn’t invited me to one of his mixers in months. Many months, to be exact, which led me to believe I was invited only after I’d complained that he left me out of everything concerning JP Wear. Suddenly, now, it was important that I be by his side. I pitched myself underneath the down comforter and closed my eyes to the muffled sounds of Trina and Mya in the next room. Mya’s tickled laughter put a smile on my face. I had every intention of relieving Trina of her duties—that was until sleep knocked me over the head, sending me into dreamland.

  Inside and Out

  Jake arrived late. He blamed his wife. If he hadn’t sat around listening to her work tales, he would’ve been on time. Still he couldn’t keep from smiling, inside and out. He was betting she wouldn’t last a week. A week and two days, max.

  “J-man, over here.” Legend nursed a sparkling blue martini that matched the eyes of the woman standing next to him. “I want you to meet Fenny Maxwell. She’s the new buyer for the Rocknell department stores.”

  “Nice to finally meet you. I’m a big fan.” Fenny Maxwell may have had blue eyes and wild spiraling blond hair, but she was a soul sista through and through. Her soft sandalwood complexion glistened from too much California sun. Her voice was thick and sultry. “You’re every bit as handsome in person as you are in all those magazines I’ve seen you in.”

  Jake extended his soft manicured hand. “Thanks for the compliment. So you’ve replaced Deon. What happened to him, promotion or demotion?”

  “I ate him.” Fenny Maxwell laughed at her own joke.

  Jake and Legend grinned for sales’ sake.

  “No, really, he
’s moved on,” she said. “He’s repping for FUBU. I told him he better be nice to me or that crap won’t see the light of day in one of our four hundred stores.” She winked. “I’m on the barter system.” Wetness slid off her glass, and she licked her finger lightly.

  “My goodness,” Legend chimed, figuring the overtures were up for grabs. “A fair exchange ain’t no robbery.” He moved closer to Fenny Maxwell.

  She moved an arm through Jake’s. “So tell me about this new line. Kind of high risk going straight, don’t you think?”

  Legend watched, temporarily mystified as the two slowly marched arm in arm toward the bar. Let Legend tell it, Jake was hopelessly pussy-whipped, hen-pecked, and stupidly satisfied with his wife. When he saw a woman go stir-crazy over his friend, he simply shook his head. “Another one bites the dust.”

  Jake saw it merely as an opportunity to pitch his new line. “Eventually these boys are going to be men. They’re going to have to get real jobs, paying real bills. They can’t do that with their pants sagging. And they sure as hell aren’t going to start wearing Dockers or Nautica. Those pants were made for men without the proper equipment.”

  “Sounds like someone’s bragging. Do you have the right equipment, Mr. Parson?”

  Jake gave her his slanted smile. “I’m just saying, you check any college campus and you see these cats running around with their pants still banked at their knees, shirts still five times too big. All of a sudden, they’re graduating, they’re ready to hit the world serious, and what are their choices? They need an urban contemporary line to bridge the gap. I’ve got the entire implementation planned out from the production to the marketing. Better get in,” he said, satisfied with himself.

  “Sounds like we should talk about this further.” Fenny Maxwell was coming for him. A woman with confidence and beauty was a dangerous combination.

  “We’re talking about it now,” he said.

  “Well, maybe we can talk about it … alone.”

  Jake wet his lips and thought about his choices … and there were always so many choices.

  For the better part of his life, since he was thirteen, fourteen years old, he continually had to make the choice. The pressure never relented. In high school the girls threatened to tell everyone he was all show no go, a pretty boy who probably preferred other pretty boys. In his music career, not much had changed. Only then the silent threats came from women who had the power to go public, in the spotlight with their reasoning for why he wouldn’t play along. He has to be gay. Not gay, just extremely sick and tired of women who thought that’s all they were good for.