Should've Been

by Alexandria House

  Tilting my head to the side, I asked, “How do I look at you?”

  “Like you wanna eat me up,” she hissed.

  “I sure do. I wanna eat you and lick you until you forget I have a wife.”

  Shaking her head, she glared at me. “You’re gonna have to look further for a new side chick. I’m not interested, and as you already know, I have a man.”

  “Again, you call that a man? I thought you were smarter than that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “He ain’t shit, and you know it. I bet you don’t even like that nigga. It’s the money, isn’t it?”

  “Where is your wife?”

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know. Probably somewhere fucking another nigga. Nothing about my marriage is real, Claudette. It’s an…arrangement.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You wanna fuck me that bad? You’re willing to lie like this, risk me telling her what you’re saying just for some of my pussy?”

  I sat up straight, giving her a serious expression. “First of all, I never said I only wanted pussy from you. Second, I’m not lying, and you can tell her whatever you want to tell her. I don’t love her, and I seriously doubt that she loves me.”

  “Then why are you with her?”

  “Why are you with Holman?”

  Neither of us spoke another word until I said, “Did you drive here?”

  “Why?”

  “Trying to see if you need a ride home.”

  “From you? No thanks.”

  “Let me drive you home, and I’ll explain my marriage to you.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I know that, but I also know you wanna hear it.”

  I watched as she dropped her eyes to the top of the table and then raised them back to my face. “My mother—”

  “Sweetness, I’ma catch a ride home with Maggie. Talk to you later. Thanks again, sir!” her mother said, leaving before either of us could reply. In response, I fixed my eyes on Claudette.

  After two or three minutes, she said, “Okay.”

  Her apartment was small and neat, smelled like strawberries, and felt like her—nice but a little rough around the edges.

  “You want something to drink? I got water and apple juice,” she said, standing in the middle of the small space still wearing her heavy winter coat and an unsure expression on her face.

  “No. Holman ever been in here?”

  “Have a seat,” she said, dodging my question.

  I did, sitting on an uncomfortable futon sofa that a quick glance around the one-room apartment told me was also her bed. She remained standing.

  “You don’t wanna sit down?” I asked.

  She grabbed a chair from in front of the lean refrigerator in lieu of a response to my question and plopped down in it, giving me an expectant look.

  “You like me, Claudette? You feel what I feel every time we’re in the same room together?”

  “You’re supposed to be explaining why you’re married to that Hillary Banks wannabe.”

  I grinned. “All right…she’s got something on me, some shit that happened before I went legit, and I ain’t tryna go to jail for it.”

  She nodded her understanding.

  “You ain’t gonna ask me what she has on me?”

  “No. You’re from my hood, the east side. It’s a lot of shit you gotta do to survive in the hood.”

  Damn, she was gonna make me go full stalker on her ass. “How you know I’m from the east side?”

  She shrugged. “Who doesn’t know about Truth Ebo? I, uh…I used to have a crush on you back in the day when I was too young and dumb to realize that men like you bring a girl nothing but trouble.”

  “Is that right? And what do niggas like Craig Holman bring girls like you?”

  “At least three nights a week away from this damn neighborhood.”

  “I can give you a lifetime of that if you’ll let me. How far do you wanna get away from here? How long you wanna stay? If I was your man, all you’d have to do is say the word,” I said, and I meant it. I had no idea why, but I wanted to give this woman the whole world wrapped in a damn bow with her name on the deed.

  “I don’t do threesomes.”

  “I can’t leave her. I just told you that.”

  “How does she know what she knows? Did you tell her like you were going to tell me?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “She was with me when it happened. She witnessed a lot of shit, because she was my woman. I thought she was a rider.”

  She scoffed, “You thought her Regine Hunter-Whitley Gilbert ass was a rider? Really?”

  Now she had me laughing. “Uh, she can be bougie, but that wasn’t how she presented herself to me. I met her in a club wearing a catsuit and smoking weed with these huge braids hanging past her ass. We’d been together months before I found out she was one of those private school chicks. By then, I thought I loved her.”

  “Thought?”

  “Thought. Shit, I don’t really think I knew what love was back then.”

  “But you do now?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her cell phone rang, and after she checked it, she said, “It’s Craig.”

  I didn’t say anything but watched as she ignored the call.

  After a few moments of silence, she stated, “You should go.”

  “He on his way here or something?” I asked.

  “No—I don’t know.”

  “But you know you want me to leave?”

  She nodded, uncertainty in her eyes. “Yeah. I need to get some sleep and you’re sitting on my bed.”

  I didn’t want to leave and I didn’t believe she wanted me to either, but I knew I needed to go, so I stood and watched her take the few steps to the front door and open it for me. “Goodnight,” she said softly.

  Moving close to her, I leaned in and gently pressed my lips to hers and was surprised she let me.

  Resting a hand on her soft cheek, I gave her a smile, said, “Goodnight, Claudette,” and left.

  5

  Claudette

  Tuesday nights were usually a midway point between hectic and slow as hell. A few regulars usually showed up along with new hotel residents or stragglers from off the street, but for the most part, the ebb and flow of work was typically manageable, which was a good thing since it was another solo night for me and I was kind of tired from the previous night’s revival and super late dinner with my mom. The only issue on this particular night was that the laid-back pace gave me too much time to think and to notice things like the fact that Truth was not there, had not been there all night, and well…I wanted him to be there. But I suppose he was keeping true to his word and backing off, giving me time to be ready for him, or to get ready for him, whatever that meant.

  As I handed Bill, a regular who worked at an accounting firm, another vodka tonic, I sighed, gave him the best smile I could muster, and tried not to think about that time, a week or so after Truth paid for me and my mom’s dinner, when Craig and I attended Tiana’s birthday party. I really tried to erase the feel of the electricity that occupied the air between me and Truth that night, the look in his eyes every time they rested on me in the crowd of people in the Grand Ballroom at the Sable Inn, or the way he found me outside in the cold winter air trying to shake off what I was feeling for him despite not wanting to feel it.

  I was there with Craig because he was my man and because he wanted to be there, not me. I didn’t love Craig. Hell, I didn’t like him, either, but he seemed to like me, was generous for the most part, and took me places I’d never get to go otherwise. Yes, he was a drunk and could be an asshole sometimes, but I figured if I held on long enough, a ring might be in my future. I could deal with a drunk rich man. After all, I’d dealt with sorry broke niggas all my life, and regardless of this attraction I shared with Truth, he was married. According to him, he was trapped in that marriage, so I would take my chances with Craig.

  “Out here by yourself? No coat?
You ain’t cold?” His voice didn’t startle me. On the contrary, I’d been expecting him, or maybe I’d manifested him with my thoughts. Either way, his arrival was a welcomed and anticipated one.

  “I like the cold. It was stuffy in there,” I replied, without turning to look at him. I’d already memorized his handsome face, neat haircut, and divine black tuxedo. “What are you doing outside at your wife’s party?”

  “Looking for my second wife who should’ve been my first and only wife.”

  That made me turn to face him. “Cute.”

  “No, truth.”

  “Truth is your real name or your street name?”

  “Real name. Truth Daniel Ebo. My mama’s only child.”

  “And your father’s?”

  “Never met him. Don’t know shit about him.”

  “Never met mine, either,” I divulged.

  “Just another reason I should’ve waited for you. I had no damn business marrying Tiana when you were in this world.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I skipped over it. “This is a nice party.”

  “It should be. She spent enough of my money on it.”

  I nodded. “Hmm, my birthday’s the first of next month. Craig’s taking me to Cabo.”

  He didn’t reply, just moved closer to me, taking my face in his hands. “You’re so beautiful. You know that?”

  “Truth—”

  His lips met mine, another soft kiss like the one he’d given me at my door, but this one didn’t stay soft and sweet. Before I could stop him or myself, my arms were around his neck and my mouth had opened and our tongues were caressing one another. I kissed this man like he didn’t have a wife and I didn’t have a man, like we weren’t mere feet away from both of them. When we finally broke apart, I whispered, “You could’ve had me a long time ago. Remember, I…I told you I had a crush on you back in the day? I’d hang at Parlay’s and watch you and your boys. I was younger than you, in high school back then, but I wanted you to see me, wished you’d choose me, but you never did. You never noticed me.”

  He stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face before saying, “You…Parlay’s? Did you used to wear a yellow bubble coat all the time? Kept your hair in afro puffs?”

  I gasped. “Yeah…how—you remember me?”

  “Hell yeah. I remember you, and I did notice you, baby. But like you said, you were young, like sixteen and I was probably twenty-five, twenty-six? I couldn’t mess with you. I don’t do shit like that, but yeah, I saw you.”

  And then we stood there and stared at each other in the cold night air, cars whizzing by on the busy city street, until I heard my phone ring in my clutch. I didn’t have to check the screen to know it was Craig. I’d been outside much too long by that time and knew he had to be looking for me. “That’s probably Craig. I need to get back in there.”

  “Okay. Can I see you again? Like, for lunch or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t,” I said, leaving him to stand outside alone.

  I remember that something shifted inside me after that, something that made Craig’s kisses and his touch feel wrong. Something that made me feel like I’d moved too quickly and chosen the wrong mate, too. And now, staring at the empty bar stool that I’d baptized his, I felt a hollowness inside that I knew only Truth could fill.

  Truth

  My ex-wife’s father was a lawyer with a talent for knowing what to invest in and when to pull out of said investments and collect his profits. Him and my relationship with him were the only good things that came out of our five-year marriage. He knew his daughter was spoiled and would do absolutely anything to get her way. He knew that when she set her sights on something or someone, she’d stop at nothing to get it. And while he did not know the specifics of how we came to be a we, he knew I wasn’t totally to blame for our marriage not working. Sitting across from him in the restaurant he’d chosen for this Tuesday evening meeting, I let my eyes scan the dining room as he wrapped up a phone call with his wife, the gorgeous woman who was responsible for Tiana being Tiana. She’d spoiled her only daughter, favored her over their three sons, tutored her on being a privileged bitch, and I’d suffered the consequences, because I made the poor judgement call of falling for her.

  Just like a lot of women, including a too-young-for-me teenage Claudette, she knew my reputation, the weight my name held, and she wanted me and the respect and power that accompanied the role of being my woman. I’d had many girlfriends and some fuck buddies in the past, had cared about a lot of them, but by the time I met Tiana at that club, I was ready to slow down and find my one. Tiana presented herself as this wild chick, beautiful and bold, but she was also smart and cunning, maybe too cunning for me. She also appeared to be a rider, would hide dope and guns for me, never complained about the late hours I kept trying to stockpile money so I could go legit. Hell, she even helped dispose of some evidence after an unfortunate run-in with a nigga who thought it was a good idea to run up on me when I was out with her without my boys. So of course I wifed her, and that was the biggest mistake I could’ve made. Once Tiana was my wife, she decided she needed to be the one to call the shots, tried and failed to rule me and keep tabs on me, tried to clown me in front of my boys, flaunted me as a thug to her father whom she hated, like Craig’s bitch ass hated his. She was proud to have married her father’s worst nightmare—a street nigga. What she didn’t know was that her daddy had been a street nigga, too, because he’d kept that from her. So her using me to get to him actually worked to my benefit. He did everything in his power to help me become a legitimate businessman—investing in my clubs, showing me how to flip houses. Hell, if anyone was owed credit for my empire, it was Tim Presley, her father.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. He’d finally ended his phone call and had placed the phone on the table.

  “No problem,” I replied.

  “It’s good to see you, son.”

  I smiled. He’d told me when Tiana and I split that I’d always be one of his sons, and he’d definitely kept that promise. “Good to see you, too, Pop. How’s the family?”

  “Good. Tiana and that Baker negro are engaged now.” He shook his head. “She thought marrying you would get under my skin, but that fool? I can’t stand his weak ass.”

  I chuckled. “Weak? Sounds like a perfect match for her, then.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I love my daughter, but her mother definitely trained her to be better suited for a man without a backbone. Wish you two could’ve worked out, but I know the divorce was for the best.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Thanks again for your help with that.”

  “What’d I tell you? I only did what was right, and I’m glad you felt like you could confide in me.”

  I shrugged. “When your father-in-law asks you what the hell you’re doing with a woman like his daughter, what else can you do but tell the truth?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you did. Like I said, you’re my son, more my child than she is in a lot of ways. Hell, you’re me. We’re the same, and I couldn’t keep watching you be miserable with my daughter. And she’ll never admit it, but she wasn’t exactly happy with you, either. You wouldn’t be ruled, and I didn’t hate you. Nothing went the way she thought it would.”

  “Yeah, things most definitely didn’t go how she planned them to go.”

  “Mm-hmm. Glad you didn’t end up like me. I love my wife, but I can admit it would’ve been nice to settle down with someone who understood me better. My Vickie was raised just like she raised Tiana.” He shook his head. “But she’s never blackmailed me. Then again, I was already in law school when I met her. She has no idea what I went through in the past.”

  That reminded me of how young and dumb I was to pull Tiana into my world and how evil her ass was to throw my past in my face and threaten me into staying when I told her I was leaving. And after she saw me looking at Claudette at my club that night, she made it clear that I wasn’t going to le
ave her for “some Build-a-hoe charity case bitch.”

  “Yeah, well I know better now,” I said. I wanted to thank him again for making her give me the divorce and for making it worth her while via a bunch of his money, but I also didn’t want to overdo it, opting instead to say, “So, what did you want to meet about, Pop? I’m sure you didn’t ask me to meet you here just to rag on your only daughter.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “No, I didn’t. I heard you were in town on business so I thought it’d be a good time to tell you about an opportunity I want to pull you in on. I think you’ll be very interested in what I have in mind.”

  Leaning forward, I said, “I’m all ears, Pop.”

  6

  Claudette

  I met Craig in the very bar where I was still employed. He was getting drunk, of course, but he wasn’t being an asshole with it. He was actually really friendly, friendlier than most, and that was a pleasant change for me. It wasn’t that the people who frequented The Royale’s bar were assholes. They were quiet for the most part, some were sullen, sad, but few were actually friendly. So I smiled and listened to him talk about some football game that was playing on the TV that hung over the bar before it was taken down years later, and when he asked for my number, I gave it to him. I didn’t find out he was a Holman, the son of the hotel’s owner, until our second phone conversation.

  Our courtship was a normal one—dates, phone calls, and eventually, some decent sex. Craig wasn’t the kind of man you fell head over heels in love with. He didn’t incite butterflies in my belly or make my heart race or my face flush. He wasn’t charismatic or even particularly sexy. He was cute and he was nice to me, paid for our dates, took me to fancy parties, and let me stay with him in his fancy suite a few nights a week, because he hated my place and my hood. I couldn’t be mad at that, because I hated both, too. The bar was set pretty low for me as far as men went, so I believed I had it good. We progressed into a relationship, and as he grew more comfortable with me, he went from being a social drunk to a constant drunk, passing out on top of me after packing his semi-hard penis inside of me, crying about how his father saw him as a disappointment, a fuck-up who’d flunked out of college and lacked the business acumen and ambition of the rest of his family. I did all I could to encourage him, because I cared about him. I truly did. I just didn’t love him and knew I never would, although I tried.