With This Ring

by Allison Hobbs

  “Wow.”

  “You’re new blood, and I’m sure she’ll be trying to get at you at some point tonight, so be careful,” the bartender cautioned and then moved along, going about her tasks behind the bar.

  The message had been delivered as a dire warning, but the possibility of getting to know Zenith better was more than appealing. It wasn’t as if Vangie was looking to get engaged or married to the chick. A one-night stand with that hot-ass stallion of a woman was exactly what she needed to take her mind off her numerous personal problems.

  Deciding to take the initiative and introduce herself to Zenith, Vangie took a big sip of her drink, giving herself a bit of liquid courage.

  She scanned the crowd and spotted Zenith sauntering toward the deejay’s booth. She had crazy swag, moving like a sleek, well-muscled panther that was creeping up on prey. Vangie couldn’t help feeling letdown and envious of the female deejay whom Zenith had apparently singled out as her sex partner for the night. She couldn’t get a clear view of the deejay, but the chick must have been really hot to snag Zenith.

  While Zenith was cozied up with the deejay, Vangie had to practically fight off the several women who seemed desperate to get her in bed. Some made suggestive comments and others got their point across with lewd gestures.

  Disappointed with the way the night had turned out, Vangie tried to drown her sorrows in Cadillac Margaritas. She guzzled down each and every drink that had been bought for her, and when she finished the last one, she still wanted more. She lifted her hand to beckon the bartender, but thinking better of the idea, she abruptly lowered it. She’d had more than enough to drink, and with all the trouble in her life, the last thing she needed was a DUI.

  She had a meeting scheduled with her attorney first thing in the morning, and it would be wise to take her butt home and get a decent night’s sleep.

  She placed a twenty under her margarita glass, tipping more generously than usual since she hadn’t spent a dollar of her money on drinks. With lots of thoughts running through her head, she was only vaguely aware that the playlist had changed from thumping party music to a slower and softer song.

  No sooner had she recognized “How Many Drinks?” by Miguel when a low voice murmured in her ear, “I requested that song for you.”

  Vangie jerked her head to the left, her face scrunched in agitation. She was prepared to tell one of the horny broads to fuck off. She wanted one person and one person only, and the rest of the bitches could kiss her ass. She shot a disdainful glare upward, but her tense facial muscles instantly relaxed when she found herself staring into Zenith’s beautiful, ebony eyes.

  HARLOW

  The wizened elderly man in the hospital bed looked to be around ninety years old. What kind of monsters could have beaten such a frail, old man within an inch of his life? The old man must have had a lot of grit to withstand the level of torture he’d endured. Harlow winced when her eyes fell upon the bandaged hand that was missing several fingers.

  “I thought you said they cut off one finger?” she whispered to Drake.

  “They only sent one.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  The old man’s eyes blinked open. He moved his lips, trying to talk.

  “You can’t talk, Lucio, your jaw is wired shut,” Drake said.

  The old man’s rheumy eyes shifted to Harlow and his lips twitched—his version of a smile.

  “That’s Harlow, my wife. And don’t forget you still owe us a wedding present,” Drake said with forced laughter in his voice.

  “Hi, Lucio. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances. But I hear you’re doing better, and you’ll be out of here soon,” Harlow said in a honeyed voice that she hoped was convincing. She felt like a liar. This man was so banged up, he didn’t look like he’d live to see another week.

  Lucio coughed and Drake immediately picked up a container of water with a straw and carefully inserted the straw between his lips. Lucio sipped and coughed, but never took his eyes off Harlow.

  Uncomfortable under his gaze, she moved her chair a little closer to Drake’s.

  “Before you know it, you’re going to be sipping vino all day in Naples. That’s the life you worked hard for, right, man?” Drake patted Lucio’s arm. “I have a little secret to share with you.”

  Lucio looked at him attentively.

  “We’re having a baby. If it’s a boy, we’re going to name him after you.”

  Naming their child after the old mobster was news to Harlow, but she managed a concurring smile.

  “And don’t worry, man. I’m not going to rest until I find those punks who did this to you. They’re going to pay—an eye for an eye, Pops,” Drake said with conviction.

  Lucio worked himself into an upright position and banged his good fist down so hard on the bedside table; he toppled a pitcher of water and overturned a vase filled with flowers.

  Somehow Drake and Lucio communicated. Lucio would grunt in different tones and Drake would respond.

  Lucio let out a rumbling growl and Drake said, “Don’t worry about how it’s going to get done. All you have to do is relax on the vineyard I put in your sister’s name years ago. I want you to spend your remaining years enjoying wine and women at home in Italy. When you start receiving body parts in the mail, you’ll know I’ve taken care of those goons that hurt you.”

  Grunting and jabbing the air like a prize-fighter, Lucio’s face was twisted in fury as he fought an invisible opponent.

  “I know you want to take care of them yourself, but you’re not in top shape. You’re going to have to trust me to handle it for you, Pops. I got it, man. Okay?”

  Suspicious, Harlow stared at Drake. “What are you talking about, Drake?” He gestured for her to be quiet, and she dropped the subject, for the moment.

  A big guy dressed in scrubs and carrying a clipboard entered the room. “Lucio Pegliasco?”

  “Yes,” Drake answered for Lucio.

  “He’s scheduled to get some tests done. I have to transport him down to the radiology department. You can wait for him, but it’s going to be a while.”

  “No, I have to get back to work. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, Pops,” Drake said, patting Lucio on the shoulder.

  Harlow waited until they were in the parking garage to voice her concerns. “Your pal, Lucio, seems to be itching to retaliate. As badly as he’s injured, I would expect him to want to live in peace at this point.”

  “Retaliation is all he knows. Lucio is the last of a dying breed. Most of his old cronies are either in old folks’ homes or they’re six feet under.”

  “Apparently, not all of them are elderly and incapacitated. Obviously, one of them is alive and vibrant—someone from his past is still holding on to a grudge.”

  “Nah, it wasn’t anyone from his past. Whoever got to Lucio is new blood,” Drake said knowingly.

  “Who do you think did this to him?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s probably someone he did time with. Lucio may have bragged to a cellmate that he had a big nest egg waiting for him when he got out. Who knows? But I’m certain this wasn’t a mob hit.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Lucio took the fall for his mob family, and they gave him an extravagant payday for his trouble. If nothing else, those guys have honor.”

  Harlow stared at Drake for a moment. “One minute you’re my loving husband and the next minute, you’re a stranger who knows all about mob laws and prison conduct.”

  “I only know what Lucio has been telling me over the years.”

  “I still have a feeling that you’re not being completely honest with me.”

  Drake groaned in irritation. “You met Lucio; you saw with your own eyes that I didn’t make up the story. I don’t know what else you want from me, Harlow. Seriously, what more do I have to do to prove that I’m being truthful?”

  “I don’t know. You claim to be a legitimate businessman and a law-abiding citizen, but that’s not how you
sounded in Lucio’s room when you were telling him the gruesome ways you were going to avenge him.”

  “That was only talk, babe. For a man like Lucio, hearing that I’m going to seek revenge is music to his ears. I was only trying to make him happy. You know, giving the old man a reason to pull through this. Trust, the minute he’s well enough to travel, he’s out of here. He can spend his remaining years bickering in Italian with his sister, Gina.”

  There was a long silence as they walked to the car. Harlow had an uneasy feeling that she couldn’t shake.

  He opened the car door for her. “If you’re worrying about our safety, you don’t have to. We’re going to be all right, Harlow. Please believe that I’d never risk your safety. You have to believe that.”

  “You paid those thugs, and who’s to say they won’t come back for more?”

  “They won’t.” Drake got in the driver’s seat and gave Harlow a serious look. “I’d insist that you stay in a hotel—I’d send you out of the country before I’d allow you to be in harm’s way.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” He placed his hand against her face. “I’d never let anything happen to you. Don’t you know I’d die for you?” He gazed down at her stomach. “Do you think I’d jeopardize the life of my child?” He stared at her. “Answer me, Harlow. Do you honestly believe that I’d tell you we’re safe, if we weren’t?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you ready to come back home?”

  “I am, but you have to promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Stop hiding things from me, Drake. I’m not some weak little woman who can’t deal with the truth. And please don’t ever shut me out like that again. Thinking you’d stopped loving me was unbearable. I thought I was going to have to raise our baby on my own.”

  “I’m sorry I put you through that. I let my anxiety over Lucio get the best of me, and I was wrong. But I got a reality check when I read your note. When I saw the word, ‘divorce,’ my legs almost gave out. I honestly saw my whole life flash before my eyes. Do you think for a minute that I’d put myself though something like that again?” He gazed at Harlow. “No more secrets; I promise.” He squeezed her hand. “I swear on my life.”

  VANGIE

  Exactly as the barmaid had predicted, there was drama. As Vangie and Zenith were leaving, a white girl who turned out to be the deejay, ran up behind them and grabbed Zenith by the arm. “Where are you going?” she asked anxiously. She looked like a college student, dressed in hideously scuffed, brown ankle boots that were decorated with looping chains and metal studs, shapeless shorts and a David Guetta T-shirt. Her unflattering pixie haircut did not complement her round face. Wearing her hair a little longer might have given her a more angular look.

  “It’s all good; I’ll get with you some other time,” Zenith said as she extracted her arm from the deejay’s clutch.

  “I thought we were gonna get together after I got off.”

  “Yeah, but something else came up, sweetness. Some other time, all right?”

  “It’s not all right!” Desperation gleamed in the girl’s eyes and Vangie wouldn’t have been surprised if she suddenly grabbed onto one of Zenith’s long legs and clung to her.

  Embarrassed for her, Vangie gave the girl her dignity by looking away.

  “You’re such a bitch; it’s not all right to treat people like crap!” Her tearful glare traveled from Zenith to Vangie. Her lips curled in anger as her gaze settled on Vangie’s face. “You’re the cause of this,” she yelled at Vangie, seeming to be on the verge of attacking her.

  Vangie cautiously backed up.

  Zenith smiled in amusement at the girl. “Come ’mere, baby,” she said, holding out her arms, and the deejay slumped into them, crying. Zenith consoled her, stroking her hair and speaking to her in soft tones that only made her cry harder.

  “Shh. You’re causing a scene. Don’t do this, okay?”

  “But you’re the one who’s being all heartless and cruel. Why do you always treat me like shit?”

  “Pull yourself together; I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  Vangie shook her head in amazement. The bartender had called it; she’d warned Vangie that someone would be crying tonight. That fights would break out. Vangie was relieved that she wasn’t the one being left behind, weeping and wailing and she was also grateful that the deejay hadn’t tried to attack her over Zenith. A bar brawl was the last thing she needed. Zenith was hot and everything, but Vangie had an open case, and she wasn’t willing to go back to jail over some pussy or anything else for that matter.

  Vangie, shifted from one foot to the other, feeling guilty and conspicuous. But she didn’t feel guilty enough to bow out gracefully. She took a few more steps backward, drifting into the background, and waiting patiently while Zenith comforted the brokenhearted deejay.

  She consoled her with gentle words and soft kisses. Zenith covered the other woman’s face and lips with so many tender kisses, Vangie began to squirm uncomfortably. It would be so embarrassing if Zenith suddenly changed her mind and told Vangie she’d prefer to go home with the deejay.

  Zenith finally disengaged from her weepy lover. “It’s you and me tomorrow night,” she told her, while reaching for Vangie’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

  “You sure?” the girl asked, sniffling and wiping away tears that were mixed with black eyeliner.

  Other than Vangie’s S&M sessions with Alphonso and the fight with Jojina at court, this particular scenario had to be the third most fucked-up situation she’d ever been involved in. She felt ridiculous and completely humiliated. What the hell am I doing standing around and waiting while she’s kissing on that cry-baby bitch? Zenith is no better than a grimy dude and I need to tell her to kiss my ass and go to hell.

  But Vangie didn’t say a word. She stood there with her arms folded, waiting around like a groupie.

  Zenith convinced the deejay that she was making a big deal out of nothing, and gave her a pat on the ass and sent her back to her post.

  And then, hand in hand, she and Vangie left the bar.

  Vangie felt victorious, as if she’d been hailed as the lucky winner of an amazing grand prize.

  Striding down the street with Zenith, she told herself that the events of tonight and also the tryst with Frieda would be secrets she’d take to the grave. Never, ever would she breathe a word to anyone about her secret lesbian escapades.

  In the morning, Vangie arrived at the lawyer’s office fifteen minutes early, feeling positive and optimistic. Considering that she hadn’t had a wink of sleep last night, it was a miracle that she felt so energetic.

  Thoughts of last night with Zenith put a smile on her lips and gave her a quick case of butterflies. Though she’d planned to only hit it and quit it, the way things ended up, she was sure she and Zenith would be seeing each other again. She’d left her female paramour stretched out, sound asleep and naked in her bed. Zenith hadn’t stirred when Vangie got out of bed and gently kissed her on the cheek. She looked so damn luscious, it had taken all Vangie’s willpower not to fling off her clothes and dive face-first between those long, strong legs.

  Being sort of a virgin and all, when it came to actually participating during lovemaking with a woman, it was astounding how quickly things had progressed between her and Zenith. Last night when Zenith told Vangie to follow her to her apartment in Northern Liberties, Vangie obliged without question. In her memory of their night together, she couldn’t recall the details of the drive. All she recalled was standing in Zenith’s living room and being taken by the hand and led into the bedroom, which was decorated with enlarged black-and-white photographs of female genitalia and asses. Framed pussies and asses everywhere. And it was beautiful.

  In mere seconds, they were undressed and all over each other.

  That first kiss would be seared into her mind for eternity. So soft and sensual. As Zenith
had walked her backward to the bed, and gently had urged her onto the mattress, Vangie’s body had throbbed in anticipation. Zenith had straddled her, and Vangie had reached for her, running a hand through the wild tangles of her hair.

  At the spa with Frieda, Vangie had lain still and enjoyed herself while the masseuse had pleasured her, but being with Zenith had brought out a different side of her. The desire to touch her was so overwhelming, she couldn’t stop herself from sliding her hand over her bare skin, starting with her collarbone, roaming up and down her arms, and trailing down to her toned abs. Yearning to touch her in more intimate places, her shaky palms had jerked behind her and anxiously had squeezed the swollen mounds of her ass.

  “I love the way you feel,” Vangie had confessed.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she’d responded, fondling her lover all over, touching and exploring her body almost obsessively. A woman’s skin felt so different from a man’s. And it was weird the way this kind of taboo intimacy aroused Vangie so much more than having sex with Shawn or any other man.

  “God, I want you,” she’d moaned, licking the part of Zenith that was closest to her mouth, which happened to be her forearm.

  “It’s your first time, huh?” she’d said knowingly.

  “Sort of.”

  “Have you ever sucked a pussy?”

  Vangie felt her face flush and she’d almost choked. “No, I haven’t. The only time I was with a woman…well, she went down on me,” she’d answered sheepishly.

  “There’s a big difference in giving and receiving, and you need to know something about me.”

  “What?”

  “I like my bitches to be on point with their tongue game.”

  Vangie had flinched. She didn’t have any tongue game that she knew of. And she’d never been referred to as a bitch while in the midst of making love. But being so completely smitten by Zenith, her judgment was a little flawed, and for some sick reason, she didn’t mind being considered as simply another bitch in the hot amazon’s bed. It wasn’t like they were a couple or anything. They were only indulging their sexual cravings.