by Love Belvin
“Sex, love, and pain, too…” were a few of the lyrics I was able to catch.
Around us, the crowd hooted and cheered, encouraging this private expression. Many of them—more than me—were used to this performance behavior from him. Trent came from a family of dancers. He could dance himself. But in this moment, he was raw, vulnerable, and emotional as he sang to me.
Don’t get hard, Trent. Don’t inflate! I begged under my smile.
Then the singing halted. Next the music followed. My face folded as I glanced around to see what in the world the deejay was doing.
“Hold up! Hold up! Hold up!” a voice similar to the one on the record demanded. “Godammit, TB, I know this your day and all…” The crowd burst into laughter. My head twisted all over until it landed on a grand stage where a deejay booth was set off in a corner. A rather short man, holding a microphone was at the edge of it, gazing in our direction. Trent turned for the stage with a perceptive grin. “I know I’m getting paid to be here today, but dammit, this my show. You ain’t gone be outdoing me with ya Magic Mike hip work!”
Trent covered me, tumbling over in laughter. Our guests followed. I strained my eyes to see who this man was. Did we have a cover band for today? Lex told me about her star-lit wedding day and warned me mine would be even more glittery because of Trent’s line of work. She was right. I couldn’t count the number of celebrities I encountered after the ceremony. The line was endless. It was a stunning reminder of who Trent was before he became the angry, lone ogre I met close to two years ago.
“Now, let’s try this shit again.” I pushed up on Trent’s body so I could see who this person was. “There’s crazy star power in the building, and I’m gonna get my shine, dammit.” He nodded and cued the deejay.
When he turned back to the crowd, my jaw dropped.
“Is that…” I couldn’t think of his name right away, I was so shocked. “Tank is performing at my wedding?”
Trent nodded, holding one of my hands in the air then pulling me into him to continue our dancing. The song resumed and Trent never stopped his rendition. He did tone it down, holding me protectively to his chest, though.
He leaned down to my ear. “I’m in a ‘blessing Jade’ mood. Tell me what you want. Anything, and I’ll make it happen.”
He backed away so I could see the sincerity in his eyes. They held a priapic slant that led my mind in only one direction.
I smiled with a closed mouth as I considered it.
“In our marriage enrichment class, we were encouraged to share our fantasies.”
“Say word.” Trent appeared stunned.
“Seriously.” I giggled while swaying in his arms.
He raised a suspicious brow. “What fantasy you got that I ain’t hit?” Trent was offended before I could answer.
“Sex in the locker room.” I watched his eyes intently as I spoke.
“Sex in a locker room? What type of—”
I shook my head, clipping his question. “Sex in the locker room.” I tossed my chin to him. My eyes batted then hid from him. “Your locker room.”
“The Kings’ throne?” Biting my bottom lip, I nodded.
I watched as his eyes rose above my head, pondering. He asked nothing more, so I dropped it. We danced the entire track through, and I was amazed at the performance.
I was given ballerina slippers the moment the song ended. We stood in front of a beautiful ice sculpture with exotic flowers inside and our names, Mr. & Mrs. Trenton Bailey, engraved on top to greet a line of guests. The line seemed endless, but the breadth of people and their history with Trent made the task worth my patience. Then the pictures. There were endless demands to smile and focus by the photographers and guests. Once we were done, there were loads of them to take in between those traditions that kicked off receptions. My dance with George happened first. We cut a rug to Chrisette Michele’s “Joy.” By the time the song ended, Kyree was at my side, grabbing my hand.
“Look, Mommy,” he urged. “She’s crying.”
I was still halfway in George’s hold when I followed his line of vision and saw my mother at the lip of the dance floor with streams of tears shooting down her face. Chéri McDowell never wasted a slayed face on emotions. What was this about? She barely said two words to me all day, opting to be with her sister, Aunt Magness.
The hosts announced Tank’s next performance as I made my way over to my mother. Behind me, I could hear George offer Kyree first dibs at the confection table. I knew it was to distract him. As I approached my mother, I saw a concerned Tessie, drawing near.
“Mom?” I asked when I made it to her.
She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’ve been tortured for some time now.” She pointed behind me, on the dance floor. “And seeing you and George.” She shook her. “Well, I can’t do it anymore, Jade. I don’t want to be locked out of your life anymore.”
My eyes went wild with that unexpected confession.
“Ladies,” Tessie Bell beckoned. “Mr. Bailey believes you two need privacy.” She used her arms to encapsulate us, which wasn’t hard considering our petite frames. She pointed a few feet away to Trent, who stood next to some guys I wasn’t familiar with. With one hand in his pocket, he raised the other filled with a tumbler and nodded. “There’s a room right here where you’ll have privacy.”
I agreed without stalling. I’d guessed my mother looked a sight, crying near the dance floor. The last thing I needed was drama on Trent’s big day.
“I won’t be long,” my mother assured as we stepped into the small room, housing mostly chairs. “I just need to get this off my chest.”
“I’ll be right out here,” Tessie informed before closing the door behind her.
“I’m so sorry for doing this on your wedding day,” she sobbed, bouncing her arms in the air. “but the dance just brought things full circle for me.” I gasped, prematurely concluding. “Seeing you dance with the man I decided would care and provide for you…and how acknowledgement and recognition for the role he played in your life just emanated from you while out there. I just can’t take it anymore. Listen, Jade Renee, I know I may not have been the perfect mother—no one is—but I’ve worked damn hard to be sure you had the best; George is evidence of that. You went to the best schools, enrolled in the most recognized programs, participated in envy-worthy clubs and private associations. George may have sponsored it, but damn it, it was of my vision. My desire to groom you into a lady of grace and class. To develop you into a woman deserving of exchanging her vows at a church like Redeeming Souls, and to celebrate that here, at LaChateau!” She couldn’t breathe the last few syllables, she was so passionate about her claims.
“I may not have been perfect, but I tried. You know I did. And all I’ve asked for recently is access to my precious grandson. That’s it. Even today: you didn’t include me in on the planning. All I got to do was watch you dance in front of some of the most recognizable names in the country with the husband I chose to raise you. My grandson has made me feel more welcome here than you, and I’ve been robbed of his company lately!”
She was heaving at this point. Anger bouncing from her small, delicate stature. If her lungs could slow, she would have continued on her rant. The tears had stopped, being replaced by rage, almost.
I could have been angry. Should have been incensed by her audacity. Would have been more than justified for kicking her out of the place.
But I wasn’t. On the contrary, I rested in a calm and security I’d never known. For the first time, I recognized the insulation of peace I’d developed recently.
A natural smile blossomed on my face, and I watched as my mother processed it. Something in her eyes flipped.
“Mother, if you want access to Kyree, you’re more than welcome to it. He adores you and I can see the feeling is mutual. As his mother, I would never keep him from anyone who nurtures and means him good.”
“Good!” Her chin went into the air. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to have him a
few days while you’re away, honeymooning.”
I nodded. “We can quickly arrange that with Trent’s aunt, April. She’ll be keeping him.” There was a pause. “And I apologize if I haven’t gone out of my way to be welcoming today. As you can imagine, it’s been quite eventful.”
“Of course.” Her tone was clipped, but her overwhelming childishness made it that easy to overlook.
“Is there anything else we should address?” My brows rose.
Her eyes successively blinked as her regard bounced around. She sniffled. “No. I think we’ve covered it all.”
And that’s when the old Jade’s heart would’ve ripped in my chest. Again. Today—the new Jade had a buffer for her disappointments. No mentions of her faults. Similar to Trent’s father; no congratulations on my wedding day or pregnancy. This was totally about her.
“Some of us are still afflicted with those childhood experiences and tragedies. We’re carrying inferiority complexes, low self-esteem, the inability to trust. We’re lacking emotional intelligence, have quick tempers, and other personality flaws that morph into character flaws. And this is all because of an act or actions of others who were supposed to govern us in our childhood. Many of us come from parents who were not emotionally or psychologically prepared to be parents before they conceived us. Or perhaps grandparents or teachers, who could no more nurture us than they were healed of their own afflictions, yet they somehow caused ours. That’s why it’s best to not overdose on people. They’re fallible, unsound, limited, and heavily blemished. There is only one Source that it is safe to lose yourself to. One Entity that never changes, remains consistent in His decrees and deliverances.”
Ezra’s words, the first sermon I heard still resonated true. That was the message that began the transformation of my heart. My life.
As I peered into my mother’s eyes, I saw a wounded and troubled woman. She may not have been equipped to nurture me. Maybe I’d been crying out for something from her she wasn’t capable of giving. But no more. I would monitor her relationship with Kyree and not expect her to love me in the way a mother should her child. I decided right then and there to let it all go. Release my lifelong conflicts with my mother.
The door opened behind us. Tessie peered inside.
“Sorry, Mrs. Bailey, but we have to have Mr. Bailey remove your garter.” Her eyes were apologetic.
I smiled and nodded my acknowledgement.
“Well, let’s finish this day. Huhn?” I addressed my mother with mustered excitement.
She led the walk out and I followed. I wasn’t sure about her feelings in the moment, but I was… Free. I walked out of that small storage room with lighter shoulders. Ironically, the baby kicked on the way out.
The chair was already set up for me and Trent was there waiting with a drink in his hand, engaging the audience in a two step. And he was effortlessly stately in a wine hued tux jacket and black pants. His beard was shaped handsomely, and mustache tapered to expose his full lips. I watched from a distance as he engaged in some footwork to house music. People were snapping away on their phones and others cheering him on as he moved skillfully. At one point, he emptied the contents of his tumbler then loosened his jacket and added bolder moves.
“It’s Time for Da Perculator” vibrated from the speakers and Trent’s attention went to his feet that moved rhythmically, nimbly, and quicker than my brain could process. His cousins moved closer to him, egging him on while bouncing to the beat. Trent kept moving, his tongue pushed through his teeth as he did. His cousin, Tasha, danced toward him. He welcomed her, bringing attention to her footwork, and the crowd went wild.
This was a Jersey thing. More specifically, a Bailey-Camden dance family affair. The deejay blended Aly-Us’ “Follow Me,” and that cut incited a segment of our guests. I was familiar with the tunes, having heard them played in countless clubs and house parties over the years. As more Camdenites and house music-lovers gathered around, more began to show off their skills, too. It seemed ceremonial.
Tessie Bell glanced over to me apologetically. I shrugged with a smile. It was my husband’s day, and this was how his family celebrated. Next was Two Tons O’ Fun’s “Just Us.” That track I recalled from Trent’s birthday party because instead of helping me place the candles in the cake like I asked them to, his cousins Kevin and Marcey dropped everything to cut a step to that.
I jerked my neck to gesture to Tessie she could kill the impromptu dance off with the Bailey crew. I knew she was teetering on the edge of insanity with time in mind. We had a tight schedule.
While she made her way over to the hostess, I shimmied over to my husband and grabbed him from behind. I swayed with him from behind, holding him possessively. It didn’t matter that my belly was at his tush. I needed my hands on him. Trent peeked over his shoulder and smiled with tight eyes as he recognized me. That’s when the realization hit. My love was tipsy.
He swung around and grabbed me in his arms, hands shooting to my butt.
“You made me the happiest man today, yo!” He smiled as he spoke. “You just don’t understand.”
I felt my face light up at his words. It was unfortunately interrupted by the deejay fading the music and the host announcing Trent removing my garter. Tessie was at our side, directing me to the white tufted chair that had been placed in the middle of the dance floor earlier. As I watched Trent remove his tux jacket and hand it off to Jordan, Tank began to bellow on the stage. It started with similar lyrics to Patti LaBelle’s “If Only You Knew.” The beat was seductive, right in line with Trent’s inebriated state as he made a production of approaching me.
And that’s when I saw the elusive Shoot ‘Em Up! He was coming for me.
Damn!
Trent was a sexy man: gorgeous, virile, agile, and in tune with his emotions. He was also intoxicated, making his display that much more alluring. He rolled his shoulders, thrusts his hips, and even slid the rest of the way to me on his knees. The guests went wild. Not only was I amused, I was turned on.
Making a production of it, he grabbed me by the back of my head to meet his soft lips. Immediately, his warm tongue caressed mine and I was lost to him. His hand reached my ankle and glided sinuously up my thigh. His first destination was to the bed of my thong where he swiped over my swelling clit. I breathed hard into his face. Thankfully, he didn’t stay very long before going back down to my thigh and slowly shuffled the garter down my shaking leg. Once he got it to my ankle and from my foot, Trent leaped agilely into the air, tossing the elastic band around his finger. Our guests hooted at his presentation.
Tank ended the song to a huge applause and I stood to my feet, dancing toward Trent when the deejay began “I Want to Thank You” by Alicia Myers, a pick of mine. My hands reached as far up his neck as my belly allowed. Trent grabbed me from behind and lowered himself with bent legs to allow me closer. My moves weren’t as fluid as his. Trent’s at this point were indecent, but I loved his cheery state.
We moved on to me throwing the garter. That was an eventful fuss between my cousin, Lashawn, and one of Trent’s cousins, Tomeka. Apparently, they both grabbed it at some point. Neither one wanted to concede, so Trent attempted to quell the fire-dragons by selecting Stenton and Jordan to place the garter on them, one after the other. That seemed to satisfy them. And I was happy to see Zoey and Cole were good sports about it.
That was until Lashawn’s drunk ass jumped Jordan, roping a thigh around his waist. She yelled, “I’ll be your private dancer.” Jordan, accustomed to the fanfare was gracious enough to let her down slowly and gently. Aunt Magness all but yanked her off the dance floor. At that point, it was time to eat. We all took our seats as Tank took back to the stage, belting ballads from the soul. Kyree sat next to us and picked over his food. Trent and I were too preoccupied with guests coming to wish us well to eat. We practically wasted our plates.
Before I knew it, the host was calling us to the dance floor for a special presentation. After a few moments of consideration,
I realized what it could be. My stomach toiled anxiously as I ambled with my hand clutched inside of Trent’s big palm to the dance floor, facing a monitor. April was upon us, wearing a conflicted expression. She, too, was excited and nervous at the same time, it appeared.
“What’s this?” Trent whispered to me as our attention was brought to the massive projector screen.
I didn’t answer, not knowing how. Instead, I shifted in front of him, backing into his warm hardness. The deejay asked the room to quiet down as the screen lit up. My chest pounded and mouth went dry as an image appeared on the screen in a homemade video. A figure came into view.
“Bet you wasn’t expecting to see my ugly mug on a day like this one, huhn?” He managed an infectious smile that made my face stretch and eyes well with joy. Instantly, Trent’s big frame pressed into mine for comfort and support. “Well, you know I stay ahead of the times. Anyway,” he basically breathed from the bed. I’d forgotten about his shallow chest breathing, having very little power in his voice box. His cadence was slow, but spirit could be felt through his words. “just wanna say I’m proud of you, man. I think I have an idea how much this day means to you. So many men don’t fully understand the blessing of it. You got connected to your soulmate, man. And if you chose wisely—and I know you did—the rest of your days will be filled with fortune money can’t buy.”
The room was still gasping in sheer amazement at the image of Shank, postmortem.
He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing. “People used to ask me why I looked after you like I did. I still don’t have a answer I can speak—but if I can be honest, it was because you kept me in line. It’s weird and not simple, but when you were underneath me, I couldn’t wild out like I wanted to. The ladies didn’t like it, but after a while, I realized one did. The right one.” His lazy eyes wandered above the camera. April. She was recording him. “I had a long life. A very…active one. But my ‘real’ life ain’t start until I settled on one. That’s what you’re doing today. You’re about to start your real life. Nothing else that happened before today matters anymore.”