“No,” I cried. “Damon. Please. No.”
The tears in his eyes matched the ones flowing from mine.
“I’m so sorry, Damon. Please. I’m sorry.”
My words did nothing. He still raised his Glock.
He readied.
“No!” I screamed.
He aimed.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
He fired.
But the air didn’t explode. It . . . rang.
Like a bell . . . it rang and rang and rang.
I was too scared, but I had to open my eyes.
I did. I blinked. Where was I?
More ringing.
I was in DC.
The bell again.
In the Willard.
I shot up in the bed and a quick glance around the room brought back all the memories.
Another ring of the bell; I jumped up and grabbed the hotel’s plush bathrobe that hung in the closet. As I scrambled to the front of the suite, I pushed my arms into the robe, then tightened the belt.
My hand was on the knob and I was already pulling the door open when I thought about slamming it shut. Supposed it was Trey? Or Damon . . . with the gun. Had Trey gone to Damon while I slept? Is that why I had that dream?
It was momentum that opened the door and then, with “Happy Wedding Day!” Sonia greeted me as if this were a national holiday.
When she stepped into the room and dropped her bag, I grabbed her into a hug, so grateful that she was the one on the other side of the door. I had to tell her what happened, what was going on, and then she’d help get me out of DC.
When she stepped back, her face was bright, with her smile and her expression the same as my grandparents’ last night—like she was so proud of me.
That was when I knew I couldn’t say a word to her. There was no way I could share my shame.
“How are you feeling?” she asked when she stepped back from our embrace. It was a question, but she continued as if I’d answered. “Are you ready? Are you excited? Oh, I know, you’re just so happy, aren’t you?” she sang, clapping her hands.
If she only knew.
But then her applause slowed and she frowned. “¿Qué pasa?”
I was about to cry, I could feel it. She was going to find out that I was a woman with no honor. Then something (it had to be God!) took her attention away.
My glance followed hers to the sixty roses that were sprawled on the floor.
“Dang, girl. What happened?” She lifted the vase, saving the few still inside. “Must’ve been some party last night,” she said as if that were a joke and not the truth.
My lips were about to quiver, but with a strength I never had, I held the tremors back. “I must’ve knocked them over and didn’t realize it.”
Her frown deepened as she squinted at me. As if I’d just told a story she could not believe. But then, like a moment before, there was a new distraction. Where she stood, she had a view into the bedroom.
“Oh, my God, Tiffanie! Is that your dress on the floor?” She barreled into the bedroom, making all kinds of groaning sounds. “What is it doing down here?” She sounded like she was about to cry as she gathered my dress in her arms. “Oh, Dios mio.”
I just stood there as she laid the dress on the bed, then smoothed it out and turned, like she was searching for where it should have been hanging. But her glance instead found me, and while she was the one who sounded like she would cry, I actually did.
Now there was more than a frown on her face. “Tiffanie, what’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to tell her, I never wanted anyone to know what kind of woman I really was, but before she grabbed my hand and led me to the bed, I was spilling the story.
She was careful to sit us on the edge of the bed, away from the dress. Even as I talked, she still held my hand (a great sign!) as I told her about last night, from finding that purse to finding Trey. And then, how I grabbed him, and kissed him, and begged him.
She only released me when I got to the part where he had me on the bed with my legs spread from east to west.
“And then, and then . . . he left.” I finished telling the story, and I had finished crying, too, because I had no more tears left.
Sonia let moments go by. Then, “Wait. What?” She sounded as if she thought I was leaving out the most important part.
“He left,” I repeated. “He left me on the bed and told me to remember him when I was with Damon tonight.”
“Damn!”
My chin tapped my chest when she said that. “Please don’t start that again.”
“Okay.” She took a breath. “¡Eso es una locura!”
“I know. It was crazy to me, too. The whole night.”
“So . . . nothing happened?”
Even though I’d just told her that, I understood her need for clarity. “If you’re asking me if we had sex, no. But something happened. Which is why I can’t marry Damon.”
“Huh? ¿De qué estás hablando?”
“I can’t marry Damon,” I told her when she asked what was I talking about. “How can I marry him when . . .”
“Don’t say it,” she warned.
I finished anyway. “I’ve become my mother.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“It is. Something is clearly wrong with me if I was so willing to jump into bed with Trey.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Not because of me, because of Trey.”
“Minor technicality.”
I stared at her.
“Okay, major technicality. But here are the facts: nothing happened and you love Damon.” She paused. “You do love Damon?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Then, case closed.”
I jumped up from the bed. With my arms crossed, I paced in front of her. “It’s because I love him that I can’t marry him. He deserves better than what I almost did.”
“It was one mistake, niña. You’ve known this man for eight years and you’ve made one mistake.” She glanced at me sideways. “It’s just one, correcto?”
I gave her one of my really-you’re-asking-me-that looks.
“Well, I don’t know. I mean, from what you just told me, I don’t know you at all. I would’ve never pegged my best friend as a freak.”
A second passed, and then I discovered that I’d been wrong. I did have some tears left, and they rolled out of me.
“Oh, come on, Tiffanie. I was playing and you’ve got to stop crying, because we only have eight hours and it’s going to take at least nine to get all of that puffiness to go away.” She pulled me back down onto the bed. “Here’s what I know. You love Damon and you are not defined by one mistake. And from the moment you met him until last night, you’ve been good to Damon.”
I let her words settle and it only took a couple of moments to agree with her. I’d made a single mistake. But there was the other question, the real reason why I couldn’t show up at that church this evening. “What if Trey tells Damon?”
She shook her head so hard, her long hair swung from her right shoulder to the left and back again. “That ain’t gonna happen. Damon may be walking the straight and narrow now, but he’s still from the streets, still carrying his gun. That’s to let everyone, even his boy, know that he doesn’t play. So, not only does Trey not want to mess up his friendship, but I’m pretty sure he ain’t trying to get shot either.”
I had my question ready. “Then why did Trey do all this?”
She leaned back so that she could get a better look at me. “’Cause he thinks you’re fine,” she said as if that answer was so clear. “And his heart was filled with lust, too.”
It made sense enough for me to nod, but I still wasn’t sure. The lust part, that was me. But with Trey, it felt like something more.
&
nbsp; “So, can you stop all this so that we can start getting ready for your wedding?”
I only nodded because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Okay.” She jumped up and clapped her hands in a chop-chop fashion. “First thing we have to do is get some nutrients into you. I’ll order breakfast while you go take a long bath,” she commanded.
When I didn’t move, she took my hand, pulled me up, and then shoved me into the bathroom. “Take your time, but not too long. You only have three hours before Candy and Ebony get here,” she said referring to my hairstylist and makeup artist.
She closed the door and I staggered to the sink. My thoughts were like shooting stars, exploding inside my mind, but I couldn’t capture a single one.
I turned to the shower instead of the Jacuzzi, thinking that inside there, I could scrub, not soak; I’d scrub Trey right off.
I stepped out of the bathrobe and then, under the hottest water my skin could take, I scoured every inch of my body. As the water beat against me, I wanted to cry again, but I pushed the tears back.
Sonia was right, this was one mistake. And one mistake shouldn’t stop me from experiencing the lifetime that I truly wanted with Damon. I needed to suck it up and shrug it off. Last night had happened . . . period. Last night would never happen again . . . fact.
The first thing I saw when I stepped back into the bedroom was the bed. Sonia had made a bit of an effort to make it up, but still the image flashed:
Me.
Naked.
Spread-eagle.
Waiting.
Wanting.
His laughter.
I squeezed my eyes and pushed those thoughts away.
One mistake.
I was forgiven.
I had to believe that.
21
Damon
I stared at my reflection, wondering why I couldn’t get this bow tie straight. Dropping my hands to my side, I just stood there. Was I nervous? Was that why my fingers were fumbling? Being nervous wasn’t a state I was familiar with, but I couldn’t knock myself too much. This . . . this was about to really go down. I, Damon King, the Chocolate City playa, real-time gangsta was about to get married.
Taking a quick glance at the ceiling, I pointed my finger toward the heavens, my way of once again giving God thanks. And with my eyes still raised, I said, “You blessed me with the girl, now can I get some help with this tie?”
I chuckled, then squared my arms, ready to conquer what I’d done thousands of times. That was when the door behind me opened and through the mirror, I watched Trey stroll in. His eyes settled on me, then just a couple of seconds after that, he shook his head.
He didn’t say a word as he strutted toward me, already decked out in his tux. His tie was perfect, but why shouldn’t it be? He had no reason for clumsy fingers.
Standing in front of me, he took the ends of the tie from my hands, and in one, two, no more than five swift folds and tucks, he had me looking like I could step right into the role of some kind of James Bond.
With a final glance, and then a nod, Trey said, “You’re set, bruh.”
As he moved away, I stood straight, checking out my look in the mirror. “Thanks. Always there. Always having my back or this time, should I say, my front.”
I chuckled, but Trey did not as he sat down in the middle of the brown velveteen sofa that I was sure had been in this room that Reverend Cooper used for counseling since the beginning of this church, sometime in the early 1900s.
With a shrug, he said, “We’re fam, damn near blood. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
I nodded, liking the way he said that. Taking a glance at my watch, we still had almost an hour before Reverend Cooper would come for me. Until then, it would be just me and Trey. So, this was the perfect time, and in all the world was there a better place?
I said, “I wanna finish what I started to talk to you about last night.”
He looked at me but didn’t say a word.
“You know, about us partnering up.”
Again he had no words, there was hardly an expression on his face.
So I kept on. “I want to make a place for you in my business.” And before he could come back at me the way he did last night, I said, “No charity, straight business, side by side.”
Now he spoke. “Let’s not talk about this.”
I frowned and let a moment pass to see if he would expound on what he’d said. When he said nothing more, I asked, “What’re you saying? You don’t want to do it? You don’t want us to be partners again?”
“I’m just saying that I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He spoke in a tone like his decision was made and there was no need for further discussion. “I told you last night, I got some things in the works, some things I’m trying to handle.”
“What does that have to do with what I’m offering?”
“Nothing.” He paused and added, “Everything.”
“Look,” I began, “why’re you being so cryptic? Just come out and tell me what’s going on. Are you back in the game?”
He shook his head. “Not that I owe you any kind of explanation.” He paused. “I just have some things I have to take care of before I can talk to you or anyone about my next steps.”
I stood there, staring down at him, trying to get what he was saying to make sense. Because I knew that he couldn’t have much going on in Atlanta. I was offering him an opportunity to stand up again.
He added, “I’m not saying that I don’t want to do it, I’m saying that I can’t do anything right now, so there’s no need to talk about it until I’m free to make decisions and moves.”
I still couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell me something, or if he was just keeping secrets. I wanted him to talk to me the way he used to, because then, maybe I could offer him some direction. Not that he would take it, but I really didn’t want him getting another bid. If he got back in the game, if he got caught up, then locked up again, he’d be down for the count.
But when he said nothing more, I didn’t push, out of respect. Because if the tables were flipped, I’d want that kind of respect given to me.
“So, we good?” he asked.
I gave him a slow nod, still trying to read between his lines. What was up and why couldn’t he share?
“Yeah.” I finally gave him an answer. “We’re straight. Maybe you’ll have your business handled by the time I get back from Dubai.”
He took more time than I thought he needed to answer that question, like he was calculating his situation in his mind.
He said, “Yeah, maybe. Maybe it will be done.” Then, as if he were throwing me a bone, he added, “Yeah, it’ll probably be done and you and I . . . we’ll sit down and talk.”
“Okay. Good. So, you’re gonna hang out here till I get back?” Before he could give me an answer, I told him, “’Cause I got you covered at the Willard.”
His face brightened with his grin. “That’s the spot. I had something go down there last night.”
I grinned with him. “You hooked up with somebody?” It wasn’t that I was surprised. He’d been on lockdown for all of these years; there wasn’t a female within thirty feet of him who would be safe.
He shrugged a bit. “Kind of. I just set the wheels in motion for the big hookup.”
I had to give my man dap. “That’s what I’m talking about. Is she visiting DC?”
“Nah, she lives here. She was at the hotel for some kind of special function.”
“Well, see, son, that’s another reason for you to stay now. Maybe something will come of this.” And I laughed.
But Trey’s face stayed as hard as stone.
I said, “Wouldn’t it be something if you came up here for my wedding and you ended up getting married yourself?” I was still laughing ’cause that was a joke.
Trey settling down? Not happening.
But he didn’t find anything funny with what I said, because at first, he just stared as if my words sounded foreign. Then he said, “You know what? It wasn’t until you said that at this moment that I realize that’s what I’m hoping.”
That stopped my chuckles. “Really? You ready to jump the broom?”
Before Trey could answer, the door opened and Reverend Cooper stepped inside the room that he’d set aside for the grooms of any weddings he performed. He was already donned in his purple robe trimmed in gold, looking like some kind of African king. “Just checking on you, son.”
I smoothed the lapels on my tux. “I’m fine, Rev. I’m ready to do this.”
He smiled, nodded, as if my words pleased him. “We’re going to have to do something about you calling me that.” He held up his hand before I could protest. “I’m giving you my granddaughter’s hand in marriage, and that means everything, including that you’re family now.”
I dipped my head a little, wanting to give him respect for his words, wanting to show him that I was grateful, because the road to acceptance from him and Mrs. Cooper had been rough. “Thank you, sir. I think you know this already, but I promise to take care of Tiffanie.”
My words were meant to give him life, though that’s not what happened. Instead of him shaking my hand and giving me one of those brother-to-brother slaps on the back, his whole countenance went left; his smile dimmed and his eyes looked like they’d gone black when he looked through me.
I was relieved when he finally spoke. “You do that, son. You take care of my granddaughter.” He stopped, stared, made me shift from one leg to the other. “And don’t you ever do anything to hurt her. Or I promise, I’ll hurt you.”
Now, I’d met many boys and men in the streets and there was not one that I feared. That’s how I got my rep, that’s how I’d made my money in the past. But standing here, in this church, in front of this man of God, who’d just made a promise to me that was similar to ones I’d made, all I could think was that it was a good thing my pants covered my knocking knees. My voice was still strong, though, when I said, “I’ll never hurt her,” because I was still Damon King. And . . . Trey was watching.
Lust Page 15