by La Jill Hunt
He smiled, winked at her, and said, “It’s all good.”
“We’ll pay for both bottles,” Titus assured him.
Titus reached on the shelf and passed Janelle another bottle and asked, “Did you need me to carry this to the front for you?”
Janelle snatched it from him and walked away without saying a word. She got to the register, bottle in tow, and told the cashier to ring up all three bottles of wine. Just as she reached into her purse for her check card, Titus reached across her and paid.
“You don’t have to do that,” Janelle told him.
“Well, technically, I do,” he said. “Especially since I was the reason you dropped the other two.”
“You have a point.” Janelle apologized to the cashier again, grabbed her bag, and rushed to her car.
“Nelly! Janelle!” Titus called behind her.
She got to her car, unlocked and opened the door, and got in. Just as she was about to close the door, she felt him grab it.
“Titus, please just go,” she pleaded with him.
“Fine, I’ll go. After you give me your number,” he said. “I promise. Give it to me and I’ll go.”
“Give you my number for what? What sense does that make?”
“So that I can call you, check on you, and make sure you’re okay. And it makes sense because you’re my friend. I care about you. I lo—”
“Stop it, please. I’m not giving you my number. Your friend? Friends don’t do what we just did in the aisle of the store. You’re married, for God’s sake. Anybody could have seen that shit!”
“I know, and I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t resist. I promise it won’t happen again. But I don’t regret it. It felt good and it felt right, and you know it.”
Kissing Titus did feel good, but the fact still remained that he was married, and Janelle didn’t do married men. Even if it was Titus.
“I’m not giving you my number. Now, please get out of my way,” Janelle said, slamming the car door shut. She started the engine and pulled off so fast, Titus barely had a chance to get out of the way.
For days afterwards, she thought about the kiss and wondered if she should have given him her number. Maybe he was right; there was nothing wrong in their being friends. It wasn’t as if she planned on sleeping with him. She pondered and wondered, thinking about him constantly. Then late one night, she got a random friend request from some guy named “Ty Boogie,” which also happened to be the pet name she’d had for him. Instead of hitting delete, Janelle accepted the request.
Now, three years later, she and Titus were friends.
Sylvia
“Where’s Garry now?” Kenny asked later as Sylvia walked him to the door after they finished the proposals.
“He’s off making final resting plans for his side chick, I guess,” Sylvia told him. She could see Kenny trying not to laugh, but even she couldn’t help smiling at her comment.
“You know you’re gonna have to tell Peyton. She’s a bright kid and knows something is going on. She’s worried about you.”
Sylvia knew he was right. Although she hadn’t said anything, she knew her child was confused by her behavior recently, starting with her announcement that her father wouldn’t be home for a while. Sylvia didn’t give her a specific explanation, just that he wasn’t coming home anytime soon.
“Why should I be the one to tell her? Garry is the one who’s been screwing around on us and hiding his other family. Shouldn’t he be the one to confess his indiscretions? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter who tells her, but someone needs to. As a matter of fact, it would probably be best if both her mother and father talk to her. This doesn’t just affect the two of you; it affects the entire family.”
“I can’t believe Garry would do this to us. I hope Miranda . . . Randy . . . whoever she is was worth losing his family over.”
“So, it’s over? I thought you hadn’t made your decision.”
“Yes, it’s over. The man had a child with another woman years ago that he hid from me. The only reason I found out was because his mistress is dead. Who in their right mind would stay with him? Why should I?”
“Well, because he’s your husband and you still love him,” Kenny told her.
“What? People would think I was crazy!”
“Wait, wait, wait, calm the hell down and listen. First of all, this is definitely not a decision to be made based on what people think. That’s stupid. You shouldn’t give a damn about what people would think. Now, listen, I ain’t telling you what to do with your marriage. It’s definitely not for me to say. What I am telling you is that you need to think things through before you make a decision. You said yourself that you haven’t talked to Garry. What you should’ve probably done was go to church today and prayed about it.”
“Shut up, Kenny. I can’t talk to him. Every time I hear his voice, I get so fucking mad! I didn’t do anything to deserve this, and you know it, Kenny. I am . . . was a good wife. He couldn’t have found a better woman than me.” Sylvia was angry all over again—angry at Garry for what he’d done, and angry at herself for not even realizing what had been going on. Sixteen years. Sixteen years he’d had a mistress, and she’d been too stupid to even know about her. Was she that gullible, or was Garry that good of a liar?
“Who said he did? And you should be telling him all of this.”
“I don’t even know when he’s coming home, Kenny.” Sylvia sighed.
“Um, he’s pulling into the driveway right now,” Kenny told her.
Sylvia looked out of the cracked door and saw Garry’s Honda pulling into the driveway beside Kenny’s Infinity truck.
“Shit.” Sylvia sighed heavily. Suddenly her stomach was full of butterflies, and her heart was pounding. She grabbed Kenny by the arm and said, “Don’t go. I need you here to protect me.”
“Sylvia, I’ve known Garry almost as long as I’ve known you. He doesn’t seem like the type that’s gonna put his hands on you, and if he has, you’ve never mentioned it.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe he is the one who needs you here to protect him.”
“You’re crazy. I’m outta here.” Kenny snatched away from her. “Think things through, talk to your husband, and talk to your child. I will see you in the morning. Nine thirty sharp.”
Kenny slipped out the door, and she watched him from the window as he walked over and slapped palms with Garry. The two men talked for a few minutes. Sylvia tried to read their lips and even their facial expressions so that she could get an idea of what they were saying, but she was too far. Anxious, Sylvia ran upstairs and into her bedroom. She paced back and forth, taking Kenny’s advice and praying that somehow God would help her.
“Daddyyyyyyyy!”
She heard Peyton squeal and run down the stairs.
“Hey, baby,” Garry’s voice cried out. Sylvia could picture him lifting Peyton off the ground and swinging her around as he always did when he came home. The relationship Garry and Peyton had reminded Sylvia of the one she shared with her own father. The bond between both fathers and daughters was one that was unbreakable. For a second, Sylvia was happy that he was home, until she remembered that Garry had another daughter to bond with. Feelings of betrayal and hurt came flooding over her. She closed the bedroom door and sat on the side of her bed.
“Sylvia.” There was a knock at the door.
“What, Garry?” Sylvia snapped.
The door eased open, and he walked into the room. Sylvia pretended to be looking at the folders that were still on the bed where she and Kenny had been working.
“How are you?”
“Please don’t try and patronize me to feel me out, Garry. I’m still pissed, I’m still hurt, and I still don’t want to talk to you. That’s how I am. Next question.”
“Sylvia, I know you’re pissed and hurt. I don’t blame you—”
“Why would you blame me? I’m not the one who’s been cheating for the past sixteen years, so I gues
s I’m blameless in this situation. Can you say the same thing?”
“I haven’t been cheating for the past sixteen years, Sylvia. I swear.”
“Well, you have a fifteen-year-old daughter, and your mistress carried a baby for nine months, so that’s damn near sixteen years.” Sylvia stood up and hissed, “Can you explain that?”
“I did sleep with Randy a long time ago. It wasn’t an affair; it was a mistake. The mistake resulted in Jordan.” He walked over and tried to touch her, but she pulled away from him.
“Stop saying it was a mistake like you accidentally washed a black sock in the white clothes, or you forgot to tell them no tomatoes on the burger you got me. It’s bigger than a fucking mistake. You had a whore on the side. That’s not a mistake.”
“She isn’t—wasn’t a whore. It wasn’t like that.”
“And now you’re gonna stand there and defend her? To me?”
“No, I’m not.... Sylvia, listen to me. If you just let me explain—”
“The person you need to explain this to is your daughter, who has been worried sick about you.”
“Why? What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything. That’s not my place.”
“You’re right. It’s my place—”
“No, it’s our place to tell her. This doesn’t just affect you or me. It affects us! Peyton!” Sylvia called her daughter’s name.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Come in here!”
“Sylvia, I don’t think—” Garry told her.
“No, Garry, it’s obvious you don’t think. You didn’t think all those years ago when you decided to sleep with your friend. But unlike you, I’m not hiding any of this from our daughter.”
The door opened, and Peyton walked in and looked at her parents. There was a look of fear on her face that Sylvia only saw when she took her daughter to the doctor. She knew something was up, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“Peyton, we need to talk to you, sweetie. Come and sit down,” Sylvia said as she patted the side of the bed and beckoned for her.
Peyton took a seat beside her mother and began to cry.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Garry said, sitting on the other side of their daughter.
“Are you sick?” Peyton asked her father. “Do you have cancer?”
“Why would you think that?” Sylvia asked.
“Because you keep crying, and you said Daddy wouldn’t be home for a while. And Aunt Lynne came over and Aunt Nelle and Uncle K, and you all have been so secretive. I heard y’all talking about the hospital and a funeral.” Peyton’s face was full of worry, and her voice cracked as she spoke.
“Peyton, baby, your father is fine. But we do need to talk to you about something very serious,” Sylvia told her. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Peyton any kind of pain or stress, but she knew this situation wasn’t one that they were going to be able to keep a secret. She reached out and rubbed Peyton’s back and said, “Your father will explain.”
Garry gave Sylvia a slight frown that she quickly ignored. She knew she was putting him on the spot and he probably wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with Peyton at this moment, but she didn’t care. He had caused this mess, so it was his responsibility to explain it, not hers.
He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Baby girl, um, the reason we were talking about a hospital is because a woman I know, a . . . friend of mine and her daughter were in a car accident.”
“Oh, no! Daddy, that’s terrible.” Peyton gasped.
“Yeah, it is.” Garry nodded.
“Are they okay?” Peyton asked.
“Well, yes and no. My uh, friend . . .” Garry’s voice became faint as he spoke. “She died.”
“That’s sad, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Peyton hugged her father.
He looked over at Sylvia in an effort to get her to contribute to the difficult conversation, but she only gestured for him to keep going.
“Um, baby, there’s something else.” He lifted Peyton’s head and stared at her.
“Jordan . . . my friend’s daughter . . . she . . . I’m . . . um . . .” He looked over to Sylvia for help, but she rolled her eyes, letting him know that he was going to have to say it himself. “She is my daughter. She’s your sister.”
“What? How?” Peyton pulled away from her father and looked at Sylvia.
“It’s a long story,” Sylvia said, deciding that this was enough information for Peyton to digest right now. “And we don’t need to get into that part right now. We just feel that you needed to know about what’s going on.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s fifteen,” Garry told her.
Peyton looked at Sylvia in disbelief, and Sylvia nodded, letting her know that it was true. The tension in the room instantly became overwhelming. Sylvia could tell that Peyton’s emotions matched her own: pain, confusion, anger, and shock. She wondered if telling her had been a selfish move.
“I’m sorry, baby. I messed up big time. I know I did. But I’m going to do any and everything to make it up to you and your mother. I promise I will.”
“Are you all getting a divorce?” Peyton asked.
“No!” Garry’s voice was so loud that Sylvia and Peyton jumped. “We aren’t getting a divorce. I love your mother, and she loves me. I am not losing my family and everything we’ve worked so hard to build. We will get through this.”
Garry reached around Peyton and touched Sylvia’s shoulder. She flinched slightly, but oddly enough, she didn’t snatch away as she’d done the past couple of times he’d touched her. Maybe she was beginning to process everything, and even though she still hurt, it didn’t sting as it had a couple of days earlier.
Her eyes remained on her bedroom floor. She wondered if Garry was right. Was this one indiscretion worth losing all that they had? Had it only been one indiscretion, or were there more of “Garry’s kids” floating around that she didn’t know about?
“So, you have a fifteen-year-old daughter who is in the hospital, whose mother just died? What’s gonna happen to her now?” Peyton asked.
“She is scheduled to be released from the hospital in a few days, in time for the funeral. She doesn’t have any other family. It was just her and her mom.”
Peyton looked from her father to her mother, then back to her father. “So, where is she going to go?”
Garry shrugged slightly and said, “I guess that’s what I’m gonna have to figure out.”
Janelle
“Lemme get a frozen margarita with sugar, not salt,” Janelle told the bartender. The club was packed, as it normally was for First Fridays, and she and Nivea were sitting at the bar, enjoying the scene. Looking across the bar, she saw Kenny walk in, and she waved.
“He is so fine,” Nivea whispered.
“If you say so.” Janelle laughed.
Kenny was a nice-looking guy. He was tall with a slender build, skin the color of dark chocolate, and a smooth bald head. Born and raised in North Carolina, Kenny still talked with a Southern drawl and used it as part of his charm to attract women, which he had plenty of. The fact that Nivea was gushing over him came as no surprise to her. Janelle had to admit he looked nice in the blue Polo shirt and jeans he wore.
“OMG, he’s coming over here!” Nivea squealed.
“What’s up, ladies?” Kenny said, hugging them both.
“Hey, Kenny,” Janelle said.
“Hi.” Nivea smiled.
“You’re looking sexy as ever, Nivea. When are you gonna let me take you out?”
“You know that means when are you gonna let him hit that, right?” Janelle leaned over and said.
“Stop hating, Nelle. I’m sure you don’t believe that, do you?”
“Of course not,” Nivea told him. “I know better than that.”
“I also hope you know that he is a man-whore.” Janelle laughed.
“Whoa, how you gonna call me that?” Kenny pretended he was appalled by what Janelle sai
d.
“The truth hurts, huh?” Janelle laughed. The bartender put her drink in front of her, and before she could touch it, Kenny picked it up and took a sip.
“What the hell? You need to be paying for that too, asshole.”
“Again, why I gotta be all that?”
“Do real men even drink margaritas? I didn’t think you were the ‘fruity drink’ type, Kenny.” Janelle winked.
“Girl, please, you know ain’t nothing fruity about me. Don’t even try it. Ask your girl.” He pointed in Nivea’s direction.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Now, that I don’t know nothing about,” Nivea corrected him.
“Yet,” Kenny said. “Give me a couple more minutes.”
“You are such a jerk,” Janelle said.
They ordered another round of drinks, making sure they were on Kenny’s tab. A few minutes later, Janelle noticed another woman at the end of the bar staring in their direction.
“Do you know her?”
Kenny looked over to see who Janelle was talking about. He smiled at the woman, who smiled back at him. “Not yet I don’t,” he said then told the bartender to send a drink over to her.
“You are such a pig. How are you gonna try and holler at my girl while buying another chick a drink? Who does that?”
“Is your friend gonna give me some ass tonight?” Kenny asked.
“Ewwww, no!” Janelle told him.
“That woman down there probably will.” Kenny smiled and walked away.
“Where is he going?” Nivea whined, peeking through the crowd.
“Who cares? Again, he’s a man-whore,” Janelle told her. She reached into her purse and took out her phone. She had texted Jarvis earlier to see if he would be up for company later, but he hadn’t responded.
“Aren’t all men?” Nivea asked.
“You do have a point.” Janelle laughed. “Where’s Natalie? Isn’t she supposed to be here?”
“She has to work until eleven. Hey, isn’t that Jarvis?”
Janelle looked up, and sure enough, Jarvis was walking through the crowd, surrounded by three women.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Did you know he was gonna be here?”
“Nope.”