He’d have to show up eventually for a change of clothes, but this time there’d be no hot meal or puckering pussy waiting for him. All that he’d brought was neatly packed in boxes blocking the driveway. I placed the sign close to his things so he wouldn’t miss it.
Darryl had exactly twenty-two boxes waiting for him outside. That meant he’d have to make several trips to get them all. His game systems, clothes, shoes, toiletries, the one television he’d dragged into my house, acting like he’d contributed to the household, and all the shit he’d bought with my money was waiting for him to take.
I didn’t care about material things. Women who held on to items they’d purchased didn’t honestly want the things. They wanted the man. They wanted to give him a reason to stay or come back. Not me. I was done with him, and he could have all his shit.
Putting away the dishes, I poured myself a glass of champagne to celebrate my new beginnings. I’d probably keep the child. Maybe. I wasn’t sure, but I was positive that I needed a drink.
Slowly I sipped. Tisha, what in the world did you commit to? This man literally did not have a pot to piss in. He’d been locked up for ten years. He didn’t have a steady job. All Darryl did was talk a good game and slap good dick. Girl, were you that horny and lonely? I asked myself, knowing the answers.
I felt like I had a lot to give and I wanted to share it with someone. What was the point of having this big house and not having a man in my bed? My place was a peaceful space before I let Darryl in. Honestly, I was beginning to feel at ease already.
I heard his car. Refilled my glass. Bubbles rushed to the top. Gliding toward the door, I took my time. Standing in the front window like a mannequin, I stared at him.
Darryl’s car was parked on the street. He bypassed the boxes, as though they’d belonged to someone else, approached the door, and held his key. He tried to shove it in. It didn’t fit. He tried harder. It didn’t work.
Finally he walked to the window where I stood. Hurling his arms toward the moonlit sky, he shouted, “Tisha! What’s up? Let me in.”
I closed the curtain on his dramatic performance, turned, then walked away.
Darryl had exactly five minutes to start packing his things into the Benz he’d bought with my money, or I was calling the police. He’d had enough sense to ask me to pay cash for the car, saying, “I don’t want a note.” Without a job, he couldn’t afford a car note.
Some men knew but didn’t care how good they had it until a bitch pulled the rug from under his lying ass, rolled him up in it, and kicked his trashy behind to the curb.
CHAPTER 11
Madison
What a difference time made. For once, I was happy to be yesterday’s news.
Since Roosevelt hadn’t died, haters and the media had moved on. Houstonians were anxiously anticipating the free tickets to Oprah’s Lifeclass with Pastor Joel Osteen. Rumor had it that Tyler Perry would be there too.
I had no interest in going to church, but I was thankful for the prayers, support, and outreach received from breast cancer survivors that didn’t know me. Their caring helped me understand why some women gave freely with no expectations in return. It was their good nature.
Chaz had taken his brother’s job for the upcoming football preseason. I’d bet no one could wipe the grin off Loretta’s face. Blue Waters—who gave a care about his lying ass? My refusing to date him before my engagement to Roosevelt was no cause for him to tell my husband we’d had sex. That was a lie. Considering what I’d done with Granville, it wasn’t worth my trying to convince Roosevelt it wasn’t true. Why would Blue do that?
Reality was registering and I was feeling remorseful for signing that authorization. Guilt had kept me away from my husband long enough. I had to find a way to mend my marriage. Tired of hiding out at my parents’ home, I opened the dresser drawer. I started packing the suitcase I’d emptied. The clothing my mother had at her house for the trip abroad was going home with me.
First stop was Tisha’s, to pick her up. She’d agreed to go with me to my doctor’s appointment. It was my pre-op, but I’d lied and told Tisha it was a routine checkup for my baby. The results from the pre-op would determine if I were ready to have breast surgery. After my appointment, we were going to my house and I was going to listen to my friend’s concerns. My problems weren’t going anywhere, and neither was I. I was sexy, beautiful, and alive.
I was determined to beat cancer.
Sleeping in my bed was what I’d missed most. My fluffy pillows, thousand-count sheets, soft silky comforter. My body relaxed at the thought of soaking in my Jacuzzi tonight, with a glass of champagne, surrounded by soft instrumental music and the sounds of me exhaling. No Mom checking on me like I was an infant. No Dad constantly trying to convince me to get on his jet and go.
He acted like anywhere outside of the Texas state line would be fine. I wasn’t accustomed to doing nothing all day. Going back to work would’ve occupied my mind until I went in for surgery. My papa was a one-step-at-a-time, or jump-in-and-find-out-how-deep-the-water-was type of businessman. He’d done a one-eighty. At first, he wanted me to help him. Now, each time I offered to go to the office, he emphatically declined, saying, “Focus on your health, sweetheart. Papa has got things under control.”
Granville’s hearing was coming up soon. The reporters would be at his trial, but I would not. There were some advantages to some people not having lots of money. I was glad Granville’s family hadn’t posted his bail. If they had, I’d have to do like Loretta and get myself a gun.
“Okay, Mama. Love you. I’ll call with the doctor’s report.” I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek.
She hugged me. “You sure you don’t want me to go with you, baby?”
After the last visit I was certain. When the doctor explained the risks to my unborn child if I had to start radiation before delivery, Mama cried more than I had. All she had to do was share my history with me. If she had, I might not be in this situation. I hated to keep holding that against my mother, but it was the truth. I could’ve tested early to see if I had the gene, which obviously I do. Or if I felt like my mother was on my team and not straddling the fence with my father’s wishes to send me out of the country, I’d let her go with me.
“Madison, please,” Mama begged.
Rolling my suitcase out the door, I said, “I’ll be fine. Love you. Bye.”
Settling into the luscious Ferrari my dad bought me, I sighed. I inhaled the scent of fresh leather. It felt so good getting into my ride. Being out of my parents’ house was liberating. I’d been there for two weeks and that was thirteen days too long.
The drive to Tisha’s reminded me of the congested commuter traffic in Houston. I cruised along the freeway until I took the Westheimer exit, off Interstate 610. Bypassing my house, then Loretta’s, I parked in Tisha’s driveway.
Tempted to go home, I resisted. If I entered my living room, I’d go straight upstairs, get in bed, and miss my appointment. I was happy to see my girlfriend. I watched her lock her front door. She turned the knob, then pushed. Turned it again and pushed harder.
When she got into my car, I said, “Dang, girl, you act like you slept with Granville too.” I laughed.
“Worse. I moved him in, married him, took care of him, put him out, and still can’t get rid of him,” she said. “He calls me every hour.”
“Really?” I headed back toward Post Oak and turned left. “Send his trifling ass back to jail.”
“I don’t hate him. I don’t want anything to do with him. Hopefully, it won’t come to my having to bury him alive in my backyard.”
“I’d say do the world that favor. I never gave a damn about Darryl. No sense in pretending that’s changed,” I said.
“Madison!”
Women need to stop being so damn nice to men who didn’t deserve it. The one year Darryl had been with Tisha had financially set her back ten. The free rein she’d given him to her money, Tisha could’ve invested toward her kids’ college tuiti
on.
I looked at my friend. She was glowing. Her smooth, chocolate-colored skin was flawless. The whiteness of her teeth and clarity in her eyes shined bright. The spikiness of her Afro glistened at the tips.
“I was just kidding about burying him alive. How are you?” Tisha asked. “I can give you details on my changing”—she spread, then fanned her fingers—“all the locks on my house later. Darryl does not have, and will not ever get, a key again.” When she said “a key,” it sounded like she’d sneezed.
I laughed. “Oh, we have to talk about that. I know he’s blowing up your phone because that’s what men do after they fuck up a good thing. You were the best he’d ever had, girlfriend.”
Tisha’s cell rang. She held up her iPhone and pressed IGNORE.
“Good girl.”
“Enough of Darryl,” she said. “What’s happening with you? You excited?”
Of course I wasn’t happy about not knowing who my child’s father was. I never imagined sympathizing with women on talk shows who had had sex with two or more men, but now I got it. If cheating men could get pregnant, they wouldn’t be so damn quick to call a woman “slut.”
I didn’t want to focus on my fears. “I have to say you look amazingly happy, girlfriend. Like you’re at peace.”
“I am, but I can’t say the same for you. You seem stressed. Are you worried about what to do with your marriage?” she asked. For a second, her eyes connected with mine.
I inhaled, long and deep. “Tisha, I haven’t been completely truthful with you. This checkup isn’t for the baby. Tisha, I have breast cancer. Stage two. Both breasts. Thankfully, it’s not worse than my initial diagnosis. I’ll find out if I’m healthy enough to undergo surgery and what to expect next. Whatever you do, please don’t be mad at me for not telling you. When you told me you were pregnant, I couldn’t be happy or sad for you because I knew taking Roosevelt off of life support was wrong. I can’t have my last best friend hating me.” I wanted to lean into my steering wheel and cry out, “I love that man!”
She looked out the passenger window, back at me, and then said, “How long have you known?”
“As long as I’ve been pregnant. The doctor said my having cheated with Granville might have saved my life. If I hadn’t had sex with him, I wouldn’t have had a reason to get a complete checkup.”
I went in for a Pap and came out a mother-to-be.
“You’ve known for four months?”
I nodded. “Don’t pretend you’re surprised. I know Loretta told you.”
Tisha shook her head. “It’s kind of hard for her to tell me anything. We don’t talk. But we’re going to beat this. You know our councilwoman is forty-five years cancer free.”
If attitude dictated the outcome, I’d live another thirty-five years, have a few grandkids, and die a billionaire.
I became silent. I was mentally ready for my pre-op. Parking in the garage, I recalled the time Granville had tracked me here using that GPS he’d secretly installed on my cell phone. I locked my car. Tisha held my hand—like we were a couple on a date—all the way into the doctor’s office.
My oncologist said, “I’m glad you’re not putting this off any longer. You’re doing the right thing for your and your baby’s health.”
Tisha squeezed my hand like she’d temporarily forgotten about her baby.
Looking at Tisha, the oncologist said, “I’m going to have to ask you to go to the waiting area.”
I gripped Tisha’s arm. “No, I need her to stay.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Tisha said, holding me tighter.
The oncologist nodded then. “It’s okay, Madison. She can stay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When the doctor left, my eyes met Tisha’s.
“Can you believe we’re both pregnant?” she asked. “This could be a good thing.”
She didn’t have to worry about jeopardizing her baby’s life. I did. She wasn’t four months yet. I was.
As I was about to comment, the doctor returned. She showed us on the computer where the infected areas were. Fortunately, it hadn’t spread to other parts of my body, but I was still having both breasts removed in hopes of the surgeon getting all the cancer. Plus, I didn’t want to have to deal with multiple surgeries if my margins weren’t clear after the first operation.
There were studies that showed having a lumpectomy was better. Opposing research indicated having a mastectomy was best. No study proved radiation or chemotherapy extended a person’s life. I had to make the decision that made me feel most comfortable.
“Assuming your final tests today come back the same, I’ve already scheduled your procedure for next week.”
Tisha went with me to the lab. When we met back with the doctor, we went over every detail. Some twice.
“She’ll do everything you said, Doctor. I’ll personally hold her to it. I know her tests will be favorable and I’ll be back when she checks in for her procedure.” Tisha gave me a long, comforting hug.
I needed someone to keep me on track. The drive back to my house was exhausting. Parking in my driveway, I said, “Thanks, girl, for being more of a friend to me than I’ve been to you.”
“No such thing,” Tisha said. “I’m just going to see you inside, let you get some rest, and then I’m going home to do the same before my mom drops off the boys. We’ll continue our conversation later. Just think—we can raise our babies together.”
Pushing my key into the lock, I laughed. It didn’t budge. I tried again. “Your locksmith didn’t change my locks too, did he?” I asked.
Tisha shook her head, went to her house, and returned with her duplicate set of my keys. Hers didn’t work either.
I phoned my dad.
“Hey, sweetheart, where are you? How was your visit this time?” he asked, laughing.
“Daddy, I need you to come help me. I can’t get into my house.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
“I, um . . . we . . . Where are you right—”
I yelled, “At my house! All I want to do is get in!”
“Madison, sweetheart, we needed the money to save the company, so I—”
It was like someone pushed a dagger in one ear and out the other. A MUTE button turned on in my brain. I looked at Tisha. “I think my dad sold my house.”
“With all your things in it? Don’t think the worst. I knew something wasn’t right with him but I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation.”
“For locking me out of my own house! He can’t explain that! He had no—”
“Well, you’re right. There is no reasonable explanation. There’s a misunderstanding.” Frowning, she continued, “He wouldn’t sell your house. Hear him out.”
I did tear up the power of attorney, didn’t I? I couldn’t remember. “You’d better pray to God. . . . If you—”
My dad chuckled. “Don’t do that. Give me a minute to finish this call. Madison, sweetheart, meet me at my house and I’ll explain everything. I should’ve told you sooner, but I thought you were okay staying with us.”
No way in hell was he serious. “You’d better not have my house online as a vacation rental. Don’t you do anything else in my name!” I ended the call.
The nerve of him! Who is he with? What is he doing?
Tisha asked, “You don’t really believe he’s renting your house?”
I tried to unlock the door again. The key did not fit. “I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.”
“Come to my place until you calm down.”
“Thanks, but I need to find out if I legally terminated that power of attorney. Right now, I think it’s time I go home.”
“You sure you want to go to your dad’s?” Tisha asked.
“Not to my parents’ house. My other house. I am Roosevelt’s wife. His house is my house too.”
Tisha’s eyes grew the size of golf balls. She stared at Loretta’s house, then back at m
e. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
I hugged Tisha, then told her, “Loretta is playing house like we did when we were all six years old. Ken is probably the only man she’ll ever get to propose to her, and she ain’t nobody’s Barbie. I should buy her ass a dollhouse and leave it on her doorstep. Contrary to what some people believe, I love my husband. Honey, he’s only got one wife, and I’m all the woman he’ll ever need. It’s time I start acting like it.”
I went to get into my car. Tisha stopped me.
“Madison, please. Come to my house. I don’t want you driving while you’re upset.”
Maybe she was right. I left my car in my driveway and followed Tisha. “I refuse to spend another night at my parents’.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you want,” she said, unlocking the door.
“I’ll stay until I calm down. When I leave, I’m headed to Roosevelt’s.”
CHAPTER 12
Loretta
“ ‘And you know this . . . man.’ ”
Leaning into Chicago, I nestled my head between his shoulder and his chest. We’d said it at the same time; then we laughed to the ending of one of our favorite movies. Chris Tucker was hilarious. Each day was a matinee with a different feature. Chicago and I had seen this picture three times since his release from the hospital. Laughter was healing and I loved the sweet sound of his hearty projection. I was so in love with him, a simple touch could give me a subtle orgasm.
I wished Madison knew that he was enjoying Friday. Or that I’d created Chicago’s new preferred dish—stuffed chicken breast with Italian bread crumbs, mushrooms, and cheese, topped with a garlic creamy lump crabmeat wine sauce.
Their honeymoon destination had been a five-star resort in Bora Bora, but being here in Houston with Chicago was paradise. He’d reserved a bungalow with a glass bottom, where they could plunge directly into a pool and skinny-dip in the ocean water. A private yacht would’ve taken them on a cruise, where they would sip champagne and enjoy caviar. Roosevelt couldn’t get a refund so I prayed one day he’d invite me to Bora Bora.
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