I'd Rather Be With You

by Mary B. Morrison

  I cracked myself up on the inside. I felt like a real lawyer.

  “Late.”

  “And why were you late for your own reception?”

  His eyes met mine as he said, “Because I was making love to my beautiful wife.”

  My eyes narrowed; my lips tightened. He was messing with me. I looked to the prosecutor for an objection. There was none. The judge didn’t say anything either.

  Fine. Take his side.

  “Did you have a gun in your possession at the time of the shooting?” I asked him.

  “No.”

  “Did you know everyone at your reception?”

  “No.”

  “Do you recall approximately how many people were at your reception?”

  “I clearly remember seeing one uninvited guest who pointed a gun at me, and that was you.”

  Who made him GM? This guy couldn’t even give the right response. I shook my head; then I said, “You didn’t answer the question.”

  The judge told him, “Answer the question, please, Mr. DuBois.”

  Why she respecting him? Were they friends? Was she trying to send me to jail for almost taking Roosevelt’s life?

  He spoke slowly. “I think my wife had approximately two hundred on the list.”

  It seemed more like two hundred and fifty to me. “Is ‘approximately two hundred’ your answer?”

  “Move on, Mr. Washington,” the judge insisted.

  What is up with her attitude? She’s prejudiced. Fine. Be that way. I didn’t need her to side with me. The jury was making my decisions.

  “Do you recall what happened the night someone shot you?”

  “My brother was making the toast. You pointed a gun at me, fired twice. I dove into the swimming pool, and the next thing I remember was being in the hospital on life support,” he said.

  I started frowning, then stopped. “So you never saw the person who shot you pull the trigger?” I asked him.

  “No.”

  “Do you have any enemies or jealous women who didn’t want you to marry Madison Tyler?” I asked, looking back at Loretta. Why was she sitting in the last row in the corner? Sindy was her name. The woman that met with G-double-A. She was on the last row across from Loretta.

  I faced Roosevelt, awaiting his response.

  “Not that I know of,” he said, glancing at Loretta before redirecting his attention to me.

  “Why did your wife take you off life support? Did she want you to die so she could get your millionssss?” I asked, dragging out the s, and then added, “And save her daddy’s company?”

  He looked at the prosecutor. The prosecutor, who hadn’t said anything prior, stood. “Objection, Your Honor. He’s leading the witness.”

  “Overruled. Answer the question, Mr. DuBois.”

  “I don’t know. Ask her when she takes the stand.”

  “Did you see what type of gun the shooter had?”

  Roosevelt said, “I have your bullet that was removed from my leg. One is still in my body and—”

  Yadda, yadda, yadda, dude. I cut him off. My last question was “Do you have knowledge of your fiancée/wife having a sexual affair or encounter with another man at any time during your relationship?”

  His exhale into the microphone resounded throughout the courtroom. “Yes.”

  “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  The prosecutor didn’t cross-examine Roosevelt either. Wherever they got him from, I was glad. I’d fire him if he was my lawyer.

  “The court will take a fifteen-minutes recess,” the judge said, motioning for the prosecutor to approach the bench.

  I sat beside my standby counsel and started reviewing my questions for my next witness. G-double-A and No Chainz would be proud of me. I had to use the bathroom so bad, I wanted to piss in my pants. I knew Roosevelt had to know that man who’d slept with his fiancée was me.

  I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.

  CHAPTER 30

  Madison

  Now I understood how a good case could turn bad. Even if he lost, by the time this was over, Granville’s stupid ass would have exposed and humiliated all of us. I was a fool for sleeping with him. I blamed Loretta, but was it really her fault that I’d opened my legs?

  She didn’t invite Granville to my house. She didn’t undress me and force Granville’s salami dick inside me that night. She wasn’t the one who impregnated me. But . . . yes, she was indirectly responsible for all of us being here today.

  Soon as we got into the hallway, I grabbed Loretta’s bicep; then I ushered her to the women’s restroom. Tisha followed us.

  Loretta pulled away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me.”

  Tisha closed the door. I adjusted my padded customized bra. It was the same DD-cup size and shape as the real ones I had a month ago. My baby was five months and one week. My stomach was starting to round out.

  “If I weren’t pregnant, I’d do more than touch you. I’d beat your ass.” I removed my sunglasses so she could see my eye was still slightly bruised. The blood clot was slowly going away, but it wasn’t completely gone. Black had faded to purple, and purple had turned to blue. “I should’ve pressed charges against you.”

  Loretta’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. It’s still there. You sure I did that? If I did, Madison, I’m so sorry.”

  This was a time when I wished God would strike Loretta down for lying. “I agree. You are pathetic. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Tisha said, “You’re not sorry, Loretta. And if we weren’t at the courthouse, I’d beat you down for Madison.”

  Tisha didn’t start fights. But she didn’t run away from one either. If she threw the first punch, this would be a first. The two times she had physical altercations in school, no one messed with her afterward. She’d whipped one guy so bad, he was too embarrassed to return. He transferred.

  I knew Tisha supported me. With her conniving, coward ass, Loretta wasn’t dumb or brave enough to do her dirt in front of anyone. I didn’t care who came into or was already in the bathroom, but it appeared to be empty.

  “Let me make myself clear, Loretta. I have an ass whupping with your name on it. Soon as I drop this baby, you are going to wish you were a Christian bitch,” I told her, shoving my pointing finger close to her face.

  She stood there, staring at us.

  “You satisfied with the chaotic mess your jealousy has created?” Tisha asked her.

  Loretta folded her arms; then she hunched her shoulders. “Y’all done? This friendship should’ve ended years ago.”

  “You’re right,” I replied, then touched my stomach. I felt my baby twitch. I smiled. He or she was growing. Soon my baby would be kicking. This child was exactly what I needed right now. Hoped I felt the same after delivery.

  “I’m not apologizing again,” Loretta said, placing her hand on the door.

  “Walk away. Because you’re the only one who’s not vested in this. I have to live with having cheated on my husband. And your ass gets your daughter, goes back to your job, and starts all over.” I yelled in Loretta’s face, “I hate your ass!” Then I started crying.

  “The feeling is mutual. Same for you, Tish.” Loretta left. She’d taken all of her problems to the Lord in prayer and left them there, I guess.

  “Madison, she’ll get hers,” Tisha said, drying my tears. “We’ve got to keep you and”—she touched my belly—“this baby healthy. I love you, Madison. You’re a good person. With all the things you’ve said, you’ve never done me wrong. Neither of us can say the same about Loretta.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Madison

  Granville trailed my every step. He stared at me with lustful eyes as I approached the stand. I felt his eyes on my stomach. I could tell he thought the baby was his.

  Loretta was probably jealous that Roosevelt and Granville wanted me, and neither of them wanted her. She was stupid to let Chaz use her. What man in his right mind would want a woman like her?

  Roosev
elt was having a difficult transition; but as long as he continued to love me unconditionally—in time, if my baby was his—we’d stay together. If he had been done with me, he would’ve filed for a divorce by now. Men shouldn’t stay married if they were unhappy.

  I wasn’t sure why the two women on the last row were here or whom they were with. They were too beautiful to be related to Granville but the one with the long cinnamon hair was somewhat familiar. I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her.

  “Hello, dear,” Granville said. “You look nice. I miss you.”

  That fool was still crazy. My head snapped in the judge’s direction.

  The judge responded, “Mrs. DuBois, please remove your sunglasses. And Mr. Washington, do not address Mrs. DuBois in that manner.”

  The faces on some of the jurors were fixed on Granville. His love for me was genuine. I believed the jury felt it too. His was an obsessive kind of love I didn’t want.

  Staring at the floor, he said, “Yes, Your Honor. I apologize.”

  It was best for me to say as few words as possible. Not knowing what to anticipate, I did as the judge requested, then braced myself for his first question.

  An overwhelming gasp came from those who had thought I was being stylish. Helen sat between her boys. Martin was next to Chaz. Wally sat beside Roosevelt. I was surprised to see Roosevelt’s grandfather. He’d stayed away from the hospital when Roosevelt was there, but Wally had made his way to the courtroom. My parents were seated on the opposite side of the room from my husband’s family. Tisha and Loretta were on the side with my family. Other than the two women sitting on Roosevelt’s family side, I imagined that at my funeral the seating arrangements would be almost the same.

  Granville looked at me. “Who did that to you?”

  I shook my head.

  The judge told me, “Answer the question.”

  I sat for a moment, recalling the oath I’d just taken: “Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you, God”; before I answered, “I do.”

  The woman with the long cinnamon hair watched me intensely. Where had I seen her? Why was she here?

  My cream-colored dress, which was slightly tapered, stopped right above my knees. I’d worn black shoes and a skinny black belt to accent the bulge in my stomach. I felt like a woman of honor and dishonor. I could lie for Loretta. With the exception of family and friends, no one knew a padded bra replaced my breasts. My hair was eloquently covered with a black wrap. No makeup. No lipstick. My only jewelry was my wedding ring.

  Now I was the one looking down. I didn’t want to get her in trouble. If I did, I would’ve pressed charges. Quietly I answered, “Loretta Lovelace.”

  Granville gazed over his shoulder. If looks could’ve killed her, he would’ve committed another crime.

  “Mr. Washington, proceed with your questioning.”

  He faced me. I wondered if underneath it all was a good man with a foolish heart.

  He stood tall and squared his shoulders. “Mrs. DuBois, did you have a gun in your possession at the time of the shooting?” he asked.

  “No.”

  His suit was nice. I’d never seen him dressed up. I could tell from the formfitting attire that he had developed what I’d call a “prison physique.”

  “Mrs. DuBois,” he said in a romantic tone, “why did you hire me?” His hoarse voice still annoyed me.

  “I didn’t hire you.”

  “But I worked for you, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, but my staff hired you.”

  He stood taller, as though he’d suddenly realized he was slouching.

  “Okay, then why did you fire me?”

  “I didn’t. Your supervisor fired you.” I was indirectly responsible, but I didn’t want him to drag me under his bus.

  He followed up with asking, “Based on your recommendation?”

  “Yes” was all I said, hoping it would all be over soon.

  Glossiness coated his eyes. He seldom blinked.

  “Why did you invite me to your house, cook dinner for me, serve me alcohol, then proceed to initiate sexual intercourse with me?” A tear fell from his left eye.

  The entire jury leaned forward and stared at me. I was sure they were holding their breaths.

  At that precise moment I couldn’t choose which one I hated more—Loretta or Granville. I sat quietly for a moment. Again I reminded myself I was under oath.

  The judge said, “Answer the question, Mrs. DuBois.”

  Roosevelt’s mom, Helen, sat on the edge of her seat. I moved closer to the microphone and whispered, “It was a bet.”

  “Could you please speak up, Mrs. DuBois?” Judge Owens asked.

  I repeated, “It was a bet.”

  “And exactly what was this bet?” Granville questioned.

  Softly I exhaled; then I placed my hand on top of my stomach, hoping to gain sympathy from the jurors. “Loretta Lovelace dared me to have sex with you. So I did. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  Roosevelt knew some of what had happened. Today he might hear it all. I’d lied and told him Granville was my ex, someone I’d dated before we’d met. He knew that already. But he didn’t know I’d cooked for this man.

  Granville asked, “Who was your chauffeur driver on your wedding day?”

  No, he did not bring that up! “You, but—”

  He cut me off, and threw me off by asking, “What was the prize?”

  Granville wasn’t as dumb as I’d originally concluded.

  “If I won, she’d sign her house over to me.” I looked into Roosevelt’s eyes, then continued, “If she won, I’d call off my engagement to Roosevelt DuBois.” There, I’d spoken the truth in front of everyone. The worst was finally over.

  “I’d like to show Exhibit A to the court, Your Honor.”

  Judge Owens announced, “The video is graphic. If anyone would like to leave the courtroom, you may do so at this time.” She waited a minute. No one moved. The judge nodded at the deputy.

  The lights dimmed just a little. Staring at the flat screen, I sat in disgrace as I watched Granville undress himself down to his wife-beater T-shirt. He dropped his clothes beside my bed as I removed my dress, then placed it on the chaise lounge in my bedroom. Next I lay down on my back and spread my thighs, inviting him to go down on me, giving him instructions on how to pleasure me orally.

  Roosevelt had seen the tape before, but seeing him watch it in front of his family embarrassed both of us. It reminded us that I’d lied. Without turning my head I shifted my eyes and glanced in Loretta’s direction. Her attention was glued to the video—so was everyone else’s, including my parents’, and the two women seated on the back row.

  I couldn’t win the bet without intercourse. I watched myself put a condom on Granville’s long, dark, thick shaft; then I mounted him. His dick felt amazing. I came instantly. It is only for a short while, I’d thought, convincing myself to enjoy the ride and win the prize. He grunted as he came.

  Thrusting my hips, I bounced higher and higher; until the last time I came down, I saw how his dick went inside my ass, but there was no condom.

  Now Roosevelt could connect the dots as to why I couldn’t have sex with him. I’d lied to him again. I’d told him I was suffering from an allergic reaction to coconut. I was never allergic to coconut. Since I was a little girl, I didn’t like the way it felt inside my mouth.

  Thankfully, there were no cameras in the courtroom. The condom that my gynecologist had pulled out of me the next day during my exam was Granville’s.

  I screamed. He shouted, “Yeah!” He was pushing himself deeper. My face was red. My ass was too, but it was covered in blood. The video stopped as I’d passed out. The lights came up in the courtroom. My husband also found out why I was at the hospital the night he couldn’t contact me.

  I wanted to kill Granville as he hung his head, then said, “Sorry, dear. I have no further questions.”

  The prosecutor looked at me, then raised h
is brows. “No questions, Your Honor.”

  Granville said, “I’d like to call my next witness.”

  Judge Owens stared at me. Her lips were tight; her eyes narrowed.

  CHAPTER 32

  Granville

  I wished I hadn’t shown that videotape of Madison to everyone in the courtroom. I wanted to make Chicago watch it—prove to him that no matter how much money he had, I was the stronger bull. Seeing Madison break down and cry as she left the stand broke my heart. I didn’t want to, but I cried too.

  Drying my eyes, I didn’t expect much from Loretta’s testimony.

  Had second thoughts about subpoenaing her, but G-double-A and No Chainz had said, “Man, you have to call her. She’s the one who introduced you to Madison.”

  They were right, but Loretta also had a restraining order against me. I thought that might hurt my case. Wasn’t sure how that worked with the distance thing. Guess this was an exception.

  G-double-A had told me, “Man, you never know what the jury is thinking. Things you believe will help your case will hurt you, and vice versa. Focus on creating reasonable doubt, dude.”

  Loretta took the stand. She was my last witness for today. Maybe Raynard was here to support her. I didn’t care about him. The DJ and a few of the employees who worked the reception were coming in tomorrow and the next day. I wished this were the last day, because the jury might forget all of this by the end of the trial—especially if the gun turned up. I had to make sure my closing arguments included the key points from today’s witnesses.

  She raised her right hand and then sat. Loretta’s hair was pulled back into that dreadful ponytail she wore most of the time. Guess she was too afraid to cut it off like Madison, or too lazy to style it, or maybe she believed looking homely would give people in the courtroom who didn’t know her the impression she was a Christian. She’d worn a silver cross necklace. Every time I’d seen her, she’d worn raspberry lip gloss. Today her lips were dry.

  My first question for Loretta was “Why did you go out with me?”

  Sighing heavily, she pressed her lips together.

  Damn, girl. This is the first question, not the last.