by Untamed
Charice scoffed. “Really? There’s literally nothing for him to be worried about when it comes to that. For one, that’s his family and you are not that kind of woman. He knows that. For two, last time I remember seeing his cousin, bruh was not fond of cuteness, if you know what I’m saying.”
Her dig sent me into a fit of laughter. Wiping the playful tears from my eyes, I shook my head. “Nope, girl. You know you’re dead-ass wrong for that. I will not join in with you on that foolery.”
“You know I’m right.” Charice giggled. “That nigga is a straight-up Biggie song.”
“Biggie song?” I asked, confused.
“Black and ugly as ever,” she said, and we both howled.
Holding my stomach from the cramping pain, I said, “See, you know what? I cannot fool up with you. Whew, chile. But you know Biggie said he still stayed Coogi down to the socks now.”
“Shit, that’s ’cause Biggie had a rap career and money. Ain’t a whole lot of women checking for no police detective with a barely-there pension.”
“Shit, these bitches be lucky to get a man that’s loyal. That pension will have them twerking a little sumthin’,” I joked, and this time Charice hollered hysterically in my ear.
“You know what, sis? You right.”
“Ryan done made you forget. A policeman with a barely-there pension is a downgrade for you, Mrs. A-list celebrity Real Housewife of New York, but a lot of these women would just be glad to say they have someone who has a job, let alone an actual career,” I explained, and Charice agreed. “But career, pension, and all, I gotta admit that nigga ain’t nothing cute to look at, though.”
Charice laughed. “See, look at you. Talking about me.”
“The truth is the truth. I can’t argue with you there.” I shook my head. “And like you said, he’s family, so I would never. Hell, if he wasn’t family, I still would never.”
“That motherfucking part,” Charice hollered.
We carried on for a little while longer. I couldn’t help it. I enjoyed joking and talking to my girl. I missed this and her so much; all of them. If there was one thing that I wish I hadn’t had to sacrifice in all this was my time with them. My girls had been so integral in my life, and then all of a sudden, they just weren’t. It was an unfillable void.
“Well, girl, let me get out of this car before one of my workers gets worried about me. I don’t need my warden husband getting upset with me for breaking protocol. We don’t need any more reasons to bump heads.”
“I understand, girl. Your secret is safe with me.”
My shoulders slumped, knowing that our phone call was about to end. “Well, all right, girl,” I said, downtrodden.
“I know. I miss your ass, too.”
“I love you, girl.”
“I love you too, and look, the only thing you can do is tell him the way you feel. If he insists on continuing that bullshit plan, just pray for the best and do what you gotta do to protect your man, your family, and yourself. All things aside, T loves the hell outta you, and though his mindset is ridiculous, he’s only doing this because he loves you and he’s just as scared of something happening to y’all as you are. And for that, you can’t knock the man. He’s doing what most men do. Real men anyway. Trying to protect his family, even if he doesn’t see the detriment in it.”
And that right there was why I had called Charice. Out of all of us, I knew I could speak to her safely and privately, but that she’d also give me very sound advice. More than ever, I needed that.
“Thank you, Charice. You know just what to say.”
“And that’s why you called me,” she joked. “Go inside before the warden calls you to his office.”
“Love you, girl.”
“Love you too.”
We disconnected, and I gathered my things and walked inside to start my day at the gallery. I didn’t have all the answers I needed, but at least I had a sense of calm. Since I already knew Terrence was as bullheaded as they come, I also knew there was nothing I could say to stop him from doing what he felt he needed to do. That part pissed me off, but all I could do was keep myself calm and brace for the impact, whatever that impact may be.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan
This was exactly what I needed. I had my iTunes, my LIFEWTR, a good pair of brand-new running Nikes, and complete and total isolation as I ran around the track. There was nothing better to relieve stress than good old-fashioned exercise, and believe me, I’d be out there all day if I could because I had a lot of stress to unwind. Hell, the way I felt, I could’ve run a fucking marathon. Running was the one thing I was great at. It took my mind off everything and everybody around me. When I was running, I was like one with the wind. My spirit felt free as my body ignited. I was the fastest running back in the league, and when I was in my element, nothing else mattered.
Nothing else mattered but . . .
I met this chick and she just moved right up the block from me . . . and she got the hots for me, the finest thing I need to see, but oh no, no, she got a man and a son, oh oh, but that’s okay.
The lyrics to Nelly’s song “Dilemma” flooded my ears.
“Shit,” I said aloud, snatching my iPhone out of my arm strap to forward to another song. Instead, I pressed the damn fast forward button.
No matter what I do, all I think about is you. Even when I’m with my boo, you know I’m crazy over you.”
I heard the chorus of the song crashing through the headphones.
“Fuck me.” I grabbed the damn iPhone again.
I was a die-hard Nelly fan, but today Nelly was on his way to losing a fan if I didn’t get this damn song to change immediately. I hurriedly hit the shuffle button, glad that “Dilemma” was no longer playing on my iPhone and breaking my focus. I know what I needed—some good hardcore rap. Yeah, that was it. I could always count on my dude T.I. to put down some ol’ gangsta shit for me.
Can’t help but notice how you glowing. I can see in yo’ face. Now I wonder if he know he close to being replaced.
The lyrics to “Why You Wanna” came blaring through the headphones.
Ugh. Hell to the fucking no. What the fuck? I thought as I snatched the iPhone out and just turned it off. Out of all the damn songs about rims, hoes, money, and dope this dude put out, I had to hear the one song he made about taking another nigga’s woman.
So, it’s Fuck with Ryan Week, I thought as my mind unwillingly replayed the event that led me to this moment of stress and mental anguish....
* * *
The blood damn near drained completely out of me. Here I was, dick deep in my wife’s ass, having the greatest anal experience of my life and one of the best climaxes in my life when all of a sudden, she called me Lincoln. My heart felt as if it was going to explode. I’d never in my life felt so low and hurt, yet so fucking angry at the same time. My body was fighting all kinds of emotions. It was the first time in my life that I actually wanted to put my hands on Charice and strangle the shit outta her. Out of all the shit in the world to do, she called me another man’s name during sex—and not just any man. Lincoln.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” I screamed at Charice. I spun her around so fast she slipped and hit her back against the wall of the shower with a loud thud.
Instantly, her eyes filled with tears, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. “I . . . I didn’t . . . I don’t—Oh my God,” she stammered as she cried profusely.
I stepped up close in her face as she backed up with nowhere to go but against the wall. My eyes misted, and I could literally feel them burning from anger. “Are you fucking him, Charice?” I asked tensely as I slammed my bare hand against the tile of the shower wall.
“No! I—” She jumped, stuttering weakly.
I shook my head, cutting her off. “Oh my fucking God,” I said, running my hands over my head. “You’re fucking him,” I yelled as I flung open the shower door and jumped out, wrapping a towel around my waist. “Unfuckingbeliev
able.”
Charice jumped out of the shower and threw on her robe, following me as I stormed into my closet. “Baby, wait. No, you can’t believe that. It’s not true. Lincoln and I haven’t been intimate since the night we made . . .” Her voice trailed off.
I turned to face her with anger in my eyes. “Go ahead and say it. Since the night you made Lexi. He was the last man to impregnate you, so I guess that’s where your fucking devotion lies. I can’t believe you. After all we’ve been through, you’d betray our marriage. Our marriage, Charice? For Christ’s sake, we’ve lost a child together, and you do something like this?”
She wiped her tears and looked at me as if she could kill me. “Don’t you dare bring Charity into this. You will not disrespect her memory. Now, I told you I didn’t sleep with Lincoln, and I meant it.”
“So, you just randomly called his name for no fucking reason—during sex, might I add—or were you just wishing it was him fucking you instead of me?”
“Baby, please. It’s not even like that. I love only you. I’ve only been with you.” She cried a river of tears.
I slid on my boxers and some jean shorts. “Yeah, okay. Yet you called his name while I was making love to you. I’m really supposed to believe that.”
“Yes, you are. I’m your wife, Ryan. Do you really think I would do something like that to you?” she pleaded.
I looked at her as if she were crazy. “After all the ill shit I’ve done to you in the past, and let us not forget that last year you were Lincoln’s fiancée, yes, I do believe anything is possible. Why should I not believe it, Charice? You called out his name while I was making love to you. Jesus Christ. I mean, this was a first for the both of us.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat and attempted to grab my hand, but I snatched it away. Right now, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Charice, let alone touch her.
“Baby, listen to me. I would never do you dirty like that. I wouldn’t have agreed to be your wife if I hadn’t forgiven you for all the things you’d done to me in the past. I put that behind me, just like I put Lincoln behind me when I became Mrs. Westmore.”
I looked deep into her pleading eyes, and that’s when it hit me. I laughed. “Oh my God. I know what it is.”
Charice looked confused. “Wh . . . what?”
“This wasn’t your first time being penetrated. Let me guess. Lincoln did it first,” I said angrily.
Charice looked down, and her only response was to nod in agreement.
“Wow. You really had it bad for this nigga. I remember begging you the last time we were together when I was in college to let me try it. Hell, I remember begging you when we first got married. You were so against it, as if it was such a new experience for you, but you let Lincoln do it,” I said, slipping on my Nike slides and white T-shirt.
Charice caught my arm as I was leaving the closet. “Baby, wait. Please. Don’t leave like this. I’m so sorry. I was wrong. It’s just that—”
“It’s just what?” I asked angrily. “You were reminiscing on how good he used to fuck you instead of focusing on me,” I hollered, snatching away from her.
She began crying heavily again. “Ryan, I love you. I don’t want to lose you. Please tell me how to make it right,” she begged as I grabbed my wallet and my keys.
“I need to go right now. I can’t even think past my anger,” I said, grabbing the bedroom door handle.
“Please, baby. Just promise me you won’t do anything crazy. Just come back so we can work this out.”
I laughed snidely. “Oh, you don’t want me to do nothing crazy like kill your secret lover or go dick down some bitch to prove a point?” I threw over my shoulder.
“Ryan, I don’t want you going to jail, and no, I don’t want you to fuck somebody else because I swear on my love for Charity that I’m only fucking you.”
Damn. She swore on her love for Charity. I knew that was one thing she’d never play about. That calmed me down, but not nearly enough. I felt like I was suffocating. I had to get out of there for a while, so I swallowed the lump in my throat and bounced.
I headed straight to Lincoln’s house, because dirty little secret or not, I was going to kick his ass and let the fucking chips fall where the fuck they fell. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but a huge part of me believed Charice when she said she wasn’t fucking Lincoln behind my back. That gave me a little of my dignity back, but not much, because the fact still remained that for some reason, she was thinking of Lincoln during our lovemaking. The anger in me just wanted to be pissed about it and get dick deep in some throwback pussy to even the score, but the part of me that truly loved Charice wouldn’t let me do that, nor would it let me believe that after all this time, those memories came up without any help from Lincoln. Somehow, some way, I knew that bitch-ass nigga had something to do with this. I felt it in my bones.
Not to toot my own horn, but before I settled down with Charice, I was the biggest playa out there right along with Lincoln and our old crew of NFL playboys. So, I knew when a playa card had been played. Knowing Charice and knowing Lincoln, I knew he said or did something that would trigger her to say some bullshit like that. I absolutely knew it.
However, God must’ve been on my side and his, because that fucker wasn’t home. So, I drove around aimlessly for about an hour, trying to give myself time to cool off. I stopped by Starbucks and got a newspaper and a black coffee and just meditated. Once I started getting too many requests for autographs and photos, I left.
Being a celebrity was like that. Sometimes you just wanted to be normal because you had real life shit going on just like normal people, but you couldn’t tell the media and normal people that. They felt you owed them. Don’t get me wrong, I loved and appreciated my fans because without them, I wouldn’t have had this fancy life that I lived, but the main people who’d be complaining were the people who never paid for one ticket to see you play or bought one product that you endorsed. They were what I called spot-a-celebrity fans. Every time they spotted a celebrity, they instantly became your biggest fan just for the sake of getting a picture or autograph to take back and brag to their buddies as if they knew you on some personal level.
Hell, I understood it. As a kid, I would’ve been happy to see any celebrity myself, but the key word was kid. There were grown-ass people still living pipe dreams. They were the main ones who, if you turned down an autograph, wanted to get on every gossip blog and call up the entertainment news or newspaper to say how arrogant you were and that people shouldn’t support you, so they could get their fifteen minutes of shine—when the only thing you needed was some fucking coffee and peace of mind because an hour ago, your wife called you another man’s name while you were fucking. But I couldn’t say that aloud like normal people because that tidbit would be on every media source faster than I could sprint down a football field. So, I learned that while privacy was a right I was entitled to, it was a privilege that I inadvertently gave up the moment I signed my draft papers with the Dallas Cowboys, first entering the NFL. Thus, I signed my final autograph and headed my ass back to my own house for solace.
When I got home, I found Lexi asleep in her bassinette next to our bed, and Charice was still in her robe from the shower, lying on top of our bed.
“Are you asleep?” I asked her.
“No,” she answered, sitting up and facing me. Her eyes were bloodshot red, and her face drenched with tears. “I had Johanna take the boys to school today. She and the boys asked me what was wrong. I just said I had a touch of the stomach flu. I gave Johanna the day off once she dropped the boys off.”
“Oh,” I said as I sat on the bed.
“So, where have you been? Or do I have a right to ask anymore?”
“At Starbucks.”
“Oh.”
To break up the awkward silence, I dove headfirst into this conversation so it could be over and done with. “I am tired of dwelling on this, so I’ll get straight to the point. I’ve already co
me up with the fact that something happened between you and Lincoln. If you’re not cheating, something had to have happened between you two to make you act out of character. I know you. What happened in the shower, that’s not you.”
She exhaled slowly, reaching for my hand, and I let her take it. “I saw Lincoln this morning on my morning jog. He apologized to me for leaving me and started harping on all of these old feelings and emotions. I cussed him out, but he wouldn’t leave me alone at first, and then he . . . he grabbed me and hugged me, trying to caress me like old times. I pushed him off, threatened to tell you, and came home. I guess my mind was so riled up this morning with him on my brain that I just said it. I’m sorry, baby. I swear to God it’ll never happen again.”
It took a second for everything she’d said to process, but when it did, I was mad as hell. I blew up. “Wait a minute. He grabbed you and held you? Are you serious?”
“Baby, calm down. I put him in his place—”
I jumped up. “Hell no. I’m going to be the one to put him in his place. You’re married, and he’s crossing the fucking line. I’m not going to stand for this shit, Charice. What if he’d actually kissed you or forced himself on you? Hell to the muthafucking no,” I yelled as I paced back and forth.
“Baby, please,” she said frantically as she ran in front of me. “Just let it go. I know you want to whip his ass, but really, what would that accomplish?”
“Teaching him a lesson and giving him one hell of an ass kicking are a couple of accomplishments to start out with.”
Frantically, she grabbed my hands, forcing me to focus on her words. “Yes, and momentarily those reasons will seem worth it, but professionally, it will cost you more than what the trouble is worth. You know I’m not cheating. You know what his M.O. is, and you know we’re better than this. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was able to penetrate our marriage. If we are fighting each other, then we won’t have time to protect our relationship. It’s the oldest and most used trick in the book—divide and conquer.”