The Marriage Pass

by Briana Cole

Dorian rubbed his face. “Yes, ma’am. I just hadn’t heard from her, and now she’s not picking up the phone. I’m sure she probably stopped somewhere after she got off work, though. No biggie.”

  “Okay, well you tell her to call me when she gets home. Let me know she’s all right.”

  “Will do.” Dorian paused when he heard the garage door open. “In fact, that’s her coming in now.”

  “Okay, good. Still have her call me, though.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dorian hung up as Shantae entered the kitchen from the garage. She jumped, startled when she noticed Dorian waiting by the counter.

  “Baby, you scared me,” she said with a small smile. She sniffed, her eyes glancing at the grill and the pans on the stove. “You cooked dinner?”

  “Yep,” Dorian answered.

  “Aww, how sweet. I’m really not that hungry, though, but I’ll still eat a little something, since you went through so much trouble.” Shantae tossed her blazer on the back of the barstool and crossed to peck Dorian on the lips. Then she turned and plucked a roll from the basket on the counter.

  “I tried to call you,” Dorian prompted when Shantae made no move to divulge her whereabouts. “You were a little late, so I didn’t know if you had stopped at the store or stayed late at work. Your phone went straight to voice mail.”

  Shantae nodded as she chewed. “Yeah, it’s completely dead. In fact, let me put it on the charger now.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the cell phone.

  “By the way, your mom said to call her.”

  “My mom?”

  “Yeah, I called her to see if you had gone over there.”

  Shantae sucked her teeth. “Damn, Dorian, why would you do that? Worrying my mother.”

  “I didn’t mean to worry her. I was just looking for you.”

  “Well, thanks a lot.” Shantae rolled her eyes and carried her phone, purse, and jacket up the stairs.

  Dorian waited to see if Shantae would return and groaned when he heard the shower running from their bedroom. He made himself comfortable at the table, sipping his wine to pass the time.

  Long after the water had stopped, his wife still had not come back downstairs. The food was cold, he knew, and even his own appetite had diminished.

  He went upstairs into the bedroom they shared, and frowned. Shantae was done with her shower all right. She had changed into her silk pajama set and even wrapped her hair under a bonnet. She sat up in bed, the glow from her cell phone illuminating her features in the dark as her fingers scrolled on the screen. She was close to the edge of the bed so the cord from the charger could reach the socket.

  “Well, damn, you could’ve at least told me you weren’t eating at all,” Dorian said, struggling to contain his anger.

  Shantae didn’t even bother looking up. “I told you I wasn’t very hungry.”

  Her nonchalant attitude only heightened his frustration and he began to undress, snatching his T-shirt over his head.

  “What is your problem, Shantae?” he asked. “I get off early to cook for you, bought you flowers. Hell, I even baked a cake. And you can’t even eat, much less say thank you. What kind of inconsiderate shit is that?”

  Shantae sighed and placed her phone on the nightstand. She folded her hands in her lap and finally lifted her eyes to meet his. “Baby, what’s going on with us?”

  “Hell, that’s what I want to know.” Dorian sat on the edge of the bed. “That’s why I wanted us to have a little date night. To try and talk or deal with whatever is going on.”

  Shantae nodded. “Maybe it’s work,” she suggested. “I’ve just been so stressed out lately.”

  “I told you, you didn’t have to work if you didn’t want to,” Dorian said, reaching for her hand. “I told you I make enough money for the both of us. You know that.”

  Shantae laughed. “Yeah, but your money is your money, and my money is my money. You made that clear when you had me sign that damn pre-nup.”

  “Oh, here we go.” Dorian rose and headed toward the bathroom. “We not about to argue over something that happened when we first got married. It’s been a year, Shantae. Damn. Don’t I take care of you? Don’t I give you whatever you need and want? What difference does a pre-nup make if we are not about to get divorced?”

  Shantae climbed from the bed and crossed to wrap her arms around Dorian. “I know, babe. That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want to feel like I’m depending on you, you know? My job makes sure I pull my fair share. We got us, remember?”

  “Yeah.” Their saying had always held weight, but for some reason, it didn’t really feel the same. Maybe it was the tension of the evening, maybe it was the way she said it. Maybe he was just off since the whole Reagan issue. He didn’t know. And the shit was aggravating the hell out of him.

  Dorian turned to kiss Shantae, and she parted her lips to receive him. Their kiss was passionate and for a brief moment, it felt genuine. Then she pulled back.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “Love you too.” He eyed her a moment longer. She looked as if she wanted to say something else but didn’t. Instead she climbed back in the sheets and picked up her phone once more.

  “Babe,” Dorian said, remembering. “What was it you and your mother were talking about at dinner that day? When I walked into the kitchen?”

  Shantae glanced up as if she were having to remember.

  “Don’t do that. You know what I’m talking about,” Dorian pushed and Shantae sighed.

  “It’s nothing,” she murmured. “I just had a little pregnancy scare, that’s all.”

  He nodded but kept quiet. So, he was right to be concerned about the pregnancy test he found.

  Shantae quickly dismissed the idea by shaking her head. “I was just having a little case of baby fever, but trust me, it’s gone now. That’s not something we need to worry about. And I’m not pregnant anyway, thank God.” She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  That alone told Dorian it was indeed something he needed to worry about. But rather than say all of that, Dorian kept his mouth shut and went into their adjoining bathroom.

  For some reason, he didn’t feel like they had accomplished anything.

  When he came out from his shower, Shantae had her back to him and was snuggled under a pillow, snoring lightly. He debated waking her for sex, but he didn’t feel like dealing with the attitude. So instead, he climbed in beside her and picked up his cell to see what porn he could please himself to. Damn shame a grown man with a fine wife sleeping next to him still has to gratify himself.

  Dorian had just settled on one of his old faithful videos when the notification icon appeared at the top of his toolbar. He opened his texts and was pleasantly surprised to see the one-word message from Reagan.

  HEY STRANGER.

  He glanced at his wife still sleeping beside him before deciding to respond. It wasn’t like he had to worry about Reagan anymore. She was laid up in Texas somewhere. What difference did a little text message make?

  WHAT’S UP LIL SIS?

  He had to laugh when he saw her eye-rolling emoji.

  LIL SIS, HUH? SO, WE DOING IT LIKE THAT NOW, BIG BRO?

  HEY, I’M JUST TRYING TO ESTABLISH BOUNDARIES.

  I DON’T DO BOUNDARIES.

  APPARENTLY, YOU DON’T EITHER.

  NAH. BESIDES, YOU LIKE ME DOMINATING YOU. IT’S FUN. NOT LIKE YOU HAVE FUN WITH MY BORING ASS SISTER.

  Dorian cringed before responding.

  LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT SHANTAE. WHY ARE YOU TEXTING ME SO LATE?

  I MISS YOU.

  Dorian’s fingers hovered over the keys. How was he supposed to respond to that? Reagan’s next message came through, as if she had sensed his hesitation.

  YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING. I KNOW YOU MISS ME TOO BABY. HEY, WANT TO SEE SOMETHING?

  Again, Dorian hesitated. Damn right he wanted to see something, but did he need to? He typed yes, then erased it to type no. Then erased that and thought a moment. Thankfully
, he didn’t need to respond, because a multimedia message came through. He hit Download and waited while the picture digitized on his screen.

  It was a close-up between her thighs. Reagan’s legs were spread wide, revealing an erotic new piercing. It was red and swollen, but he had to admit, the silver bauble looked sexy.

  WOW. DID IT HURT?

  NOT AT ALL. IN FACT, IT TURNED ME ON. I’M INTO KINKY STUFF.

  Dorian was getting more and more turned on himself. Shantae was pretty routine when it came to sex—whenever she found time to give it to him—and though it was still great, it was refreshing to change it up a bit. One reason he had begun to look forward to the hall pass.

  He flipped back to the picture again and used his thumb and index finger to enlarge it so he could see the details of her delicate pink folds. He wanted her. That much was clear. The frustration had his body aching.

  Dorian put his phone down and, without a second thought, eased Shantae over. He dipped his hand inside her pants and began stroking her body until he felt it humming to life. She moaned, still on the edges of consciousness.

  When he was satisfied she was ready, Dorian entered her from behind, bracing her upper body down into the mattress.

  “Ooh,” Shantae murmured. “Babe, what are you doing?”

  Dorian shushed her and squeezed his eyes shut. Shantae felt nothing like Reagan, but it was better than his hand. So he began working against her, visualizing the picture Reagan had sent. He then remembered her playing with herself in the bathroom and sped up. Below him, Shantae was moaning and moving in sync to his rhythm, but his mind was consumed by Reagan.

  When he felt Shantae’s body convulse, he felt his own building and had to bite his lip to keep from yelling out Reagan’s name.

  “Damn, babe.” Shantae collapsed in exhaustion. “You always know just what I need.”

  Dorian rolled to his side and eased his briefs back over his hips. His body was soaked, but he would deal with it in the morning.

  Dorian waited until Shantae had drifted off back to sleep. It never took her long afterward, and sure enough, he soon heard her heavy breathing once more. Dorian used the opportunity to grab his phone and saw Reagan had sent two more messages.

  HEY WHAT HAPPENED?

  YOU STILL THERE OR YOU FELL ASLEEP ON ME?

  Dorian responded to the latter.

  NAH, I DIDN’T FALL ASLEEP. I’M ABOUT TO THOUGH. HAD TO PUT YOUR SISTER TO SLEEP FIRST.

  He added the laughing emoji and hit Send. He really didn’t know why he had told Reagan that, but part of him felt it was reestablishing their boundaries even though Reagan had already made it clear she didn’t care.

  Dorian gave it twenty minutes before deciding she wasn’t going to respond. He texted her good night before setting his phone on the nightstand and turning to pull his wife into him. Instinctively, Shantae’s body folded into his, her head resting on his chest.

  He didn’t realize he had drifted off to sleep until he heard Shantae’s phone vibrating on the nightstand. It stopped and then immediately started back up again. Dorian nudged her awake, at the same time glancing at the clock. “Shantae, get your phone,” he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Who the hell is calling you like that this time of night anyway?”

  Shantae sat up, wiping her eyes. “What?”

  “Your phone, Shantae,” Dorian said again, nodding in the phone’s direction.

  Frowning, Shantae leaned over and pulling out the charger, swiped the screen to answer. “Hello?” Her voice was still clogged with sleep.

  Dorian waited, his frustration immediately turning to concern when he saw Shantae’s eyes widen.

  “Oh, my God. Okay, Mom. Which hospital?” She was already tossing the covers back. “We are on the way.”

  Dorian jumped up. “What is it, baby?”

  “That was Mama. Reagan’s in the hospital.”

  Dorian paused in confusion as Shantae began snatching clothes out of her drawers. “Wait, hospital? Where is she?”

  “Southern Regional.”

  Dorian pulled on a pair of sweats. What had happened? He was just talking to her. And more importantly, why the hell was she still in town?

  Chapter Fifteen

  They had been at the hospital for hours, it seemed. Dorian shifted in the uncomfortable waiting room chair and eyed the emergency room’s occupants.

  It was fairly crowded for a Tuesday night, with a compilation of men, women, and children dozing on the various pieces of hospital furniture. A few coughs or sneezes here and there and the lobby was quiet, with the occasional roll call from the triage nurse. The stench of antiseptics was strong enough to make his eyes water.

  Shantae had dozed off next to him, and Barbara was there beside with Charles holding a sleeping TJ in his lap. “Attempted suicide,” Charles revealed, as soon as Dorian and Shantae had arrived.

  Apparently, Reagan had never left town. She had been at her parents’ and she had called her father. Charles said she was crying and apologizing for being an awful mother and an awful person before hanging up. He had gone upstairs and realized she had locked herself in the bathroom. He broke the door down and found her body in the tub, the water already stained red with the blood oozing from slits in her wrists.

  Shantae had cried while Barbara insisted her daughter had done it for attention. Which had Dorian wondering why. Whose attention was she seeking?

  For now, he just had to sit and wait, consumed with questions until he could address them with the only person with answers. And since Roman was her on-call physician, he’d last provided an update that Reagan was restrained and heavily sedated.

  Shantae stirred and Dorian reached over to pat her thigh. “Babe, why don’t you go home and get some rest,” he suggested as she yawned. “Or go back to your parents’ house with your nephew. I can stay here until the doctors have more information.”

  Shantae shook her head. “No, you can go. I need to be here with my sister.”

  As exhausted as Dorian was, he felt he needed to be there too. Not just for the moral support, but because it was Reagan. And his gut was telling him he was somehow more involved than he realized.

  A few moments longer and Roman pushed through the doors and headed their way. Dorian was glad his friend had been the one to see Reagan when she first arrived by ambulance and had been the one to update the family a few hours before.

  All of them stood when he approached, a professional smile in place and clipboard in hand. “Good news,” he said. “She has stabilized, and we did not need to do the blood transfusion after all.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Shantae murmured.

  “We are going to admit her for a few days, just to monitor her, but I don’t see where she struck any arteries or caused any permanent damage.” Roman paused, his eyes glancing toward Dorian for a brief moment. “Now I’m not trying to insinuate anything, but it’s my job to ask.” His brows furrowed in worry.

  Shantae spoke up. “Roman, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  Roman sighed. “Has Ms. Reynolds been previously treated for any . . . psychological issues?”

  Dorian looked to Barbara and Charles, who immediately shook their heads.

  Roman nodded but Dorian could see he didn’t necessarily believe them. “Just have to ask. Suicide attempts are often referred for psychological evaluations, since that’s typically where it stems from. So, no depression, no bipolar or any type of mental diagnosis that you are aware of?”

  “Roman.” Barbara’s tone was clipped. “There is nothing wrong with Reagan, I assure you. Now can we see her?”

  Roman let a defeated sigh fall from his lips. It was apparent this was something he witnessed all too often. “Absolutely,” he said. “Just let me get her moved and checked in and I’ll be out to escort you.” His eyes lingered for a second on Dorian before he strolled off, and he already knew what that meant. They needed to talk. Understanding, Dorian excused himself and rushed to catch up with him.

&nb
sp; “What’s up, man,” Roman said as soon as they were alone. “For real. Does Reagan have some mental issues or not? I know she didn’t just wake up this morning and say she wanted to kill herself.”

  Dorian shrugged. “Not that I know of,” he said. Truthfully, he really didn’t know. He thought about Reagan, their recent conversations, and even how she acted in the time he was dating Shantae. Flighty, yes. Unstable, absolutely. But for Roman to mention it, it had to have some shreds of truth.

  “Is she gon’ be all right?” Dorian asked again, just to be sure.

  Roman sighed, the night’s events showing in visible lines of fatigue across his face. “Yeah, man,” he said. “But y’all need to get her checked out. For real.” He paused, then added, “You know your boy blowing me up.”

  Dorian wondered how Myles knew about Reagan. Had she called him too? “Don’t tell him anything,” he said. “Let the family deal with this first.”

  “You know I can’t tell him nothing anyway,” Roman reminded him. “But you need to. Or somebody, because he’s about to go crazy trying to figure out what happened to her.”

  Dorian nodded, though he really didn’t want to be the one to tell Myles. Was it even his place? That was his friend, but Reagan was . . . hell, he didn’t even know. But for some reason, he felt like he would be breaking some invisible code. Especially considering she just might be in that hospital bed because of him.

  “I’m just glad she’s all right,” Shantae was saying when Dorian rejoined the group and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his embrace. “Why would she do some shit like this? She knew she could’ve talked to me about anything she was going through.”

  “Has she ever attempted something like this before?” Dorian asked, and Shantae shook her head.

  “I was thinking. Do you mind me asking her if she wants to come stay with us for a while, Dorian?”

  Dorian swallowed, struggling to keep his face casual. “Do you think she can just stay at your parents’?” he asked, avoiding the question.

  Shantae’s eyes slid to Barbara and Charles, who were whispering between themselves. “That’s where she was when she did this shit, Dorian. I don’t want her over there giving my parents a damn heart attack. And in front of TJ.” She sighed, massaging her temples. “I think I would just feel better if she was at the house and I could keep an eye on her myself.”