Secrets of a Kept Woman (Volume 1)

by Shani Greene-Dowdell

  Her father would say, “You ain't nobody’s ho, and I damn sho’ ain’t raising no punk bitches. If you know these things about yourself early on, you will be much better off when dealing with the no good men that are definitely out there waiting to take advantage of you.”

  “We’ll see about me being your lady, Mr. Tee,” she said to Titus, cracking a slight grin. Then, she handed him the note with her name and number, placing the pen and remaining paper back into her purse.

  He looked at the paper and said, “Shayla. That’s a pretty name.” He smiled, and she blushed for the second time during their conversation. “Tonight around eight, we have a phone date?”

  She confirmed, “It’s a date.” On the inside, she nearly melted – not from the sweltering hot summer heat, but from the heat that radiated from his tongue as he spoke. Titus was all of that and a bag of chips to look at, and from the small talk, she could tell that he would be all of that to conversate with. She had some words that definitely fought to escape her lips, but it was too soon to be trying to get all frisky or mushy with him. Not wanting to miss her bus, or stand there another moment looking dazed and mesmerized, she nodded and parted ways.

  As soon as she walked off, smiling like she’d hit the lotto, a thick, red-boned chick marched over to his car, arms crossed, and full of ‘tude. The girl’s curly black weave bounced in the wind as she rolled her neck and became locked up in an intense conversation with Titus. The unnamed bandit, sporting a floral sundress and hot pink sandals, pouted and waved her arms back and forth between her outbursts. Then, she pointed in Shayla’s direction and pouted some more. Her cute and cuddly, girl-next-door appearance did not match her disposition.

  “What’s up with ole’ girl? I know she don’t want none!” Ronnie’s overprotective, always-ready-to–throw-a-couple-punches behind was rolling up her sleeves and was down for whatever if the pouty girl wanted to start a confrontation.

  “Come on, Rhonda, we have to go. It is what it is,” Shayla said as she picked up her book bag, took the first step toward her public transportation ride home, and motioned for Rhonda to follow suit.

  “Where is Gladys? Did her bus come already?” Shayla asked, changing the subject.

  “Yeah,” Ronnie said, keeping an eye on the fuming female talking to Titus.

  “Just let it go, Rhonda. Let’s go,” Shayla told her, noticing that her attention was still on the arguing couple.

  Rhonda replied, “For now, it’s whatever, but she better not get froggy.”

  Chapter 2

  The Bonding Period

  Later that evening, Titus called Shayla, and they talked for hours about everything under the sun. She wasn’t used to anyone talking to her as if she was a grown woman instead of a teenager in high school. They spoke at length about school, life goals, personal interests, and then they got on the topic of dating. He explained to her that the girl who had come over to his car creating a scene was his ex-girlfriend, and he wasn’t feeling her like that anymore. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to let go.

  “Are you ready to let go?” Shayla asked.

  “I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I have moved on, but she is still on some ‘We’re meant to be together. Let’s get married and have a baby, and I love you,’ shit. The girl is way too bossy. I’m nineteen. I’m not looking for another mother or a wife, but someone that I can connect with as I feel my way through life. Understand?”

  Shayla decided to stroke his ego while at the same time gauging his response. “I feel you. So, you got it like that? You’ve got girls going around tripping about you? Because, believe it or not, girlfriend was acting like you were cheating on her or something. Like she was all sprung over you.”

  “Nah, it’s not that. It’s just that some females don’t know when to let go when the relationship is dead. You know when the lights are out, it’s time to put the baby to bed. When the thrill is gone, it’s gone.”

  “And when it’s on, it’s on, I suppose. Like with us?” At that point in the conversation, Shayla didn’t really care what the girl’s malfunction was. She didn’t care to know her name or her situation. On the exterior, this guy presented himself as the typical sexy thug with brains that sisters always dream about, and on the inside, she was discovering quickly that he was a man with a sincere heart, true integrity, and his whole life ahead of him. She had gotten that much from his intelligent conversation and the dreams he had shared with her.

  To show how much he wasn’t feeling the other girl, he continued explaining, “I don’t care anything about that girl. Let me show you tomorrow, when I pick you up from school and take you home. If she doesn’t know by now, she’ll know tomorrow that I’m digging this certain redbone from around the way.”

  “Is that right?” Shayla raised an eyebrow as she entwined the phone cord in her fingers.

  “Right, and I’m going to show you,” he confirmed.

  The next day, Titus picked her up promptly at 3:15PM. Even though she once again had to dodge several eye daggers that shot her way as she approached his car, she was happy to see him turn the corner. He showed her something special when he hopped out of the car, presented her with a single long-stemmed rose, and opened the door for her.

  Shayla laughed internally at the bug-a-boo that had been tripping on him the day before as she turned red watching Shayla make her graceful entrance into the car, but more importantly, the girl couldn’t help but take notice of the blood-red rose and the other sweet gestures that Titus had made. Her expression was so priceless that she could have been bought and sold for a quarter at that very moment. From that point on, Shayla and Titus were too caught up into each other to notice the girl running off into the building with one of her chicken-head friends following close behind.

  Over the next couple of weeks, the newly-formed couple talked on the phone so much that they’d practically shared every detail of their lives with each other. He’d graduated the year before from Booker T. Washington High’s rival, South Macon. He lived off of J. Anthony Street in the Sloan Mill projects of Tuskegee with his family, including his three brothers and two sisters. He said college wasn’t for him, because “Baby, college ain’t for everybody.” Even still, Titus Wilson was planning to start his own car dealership, and do something three generations of his family had not been able to do – make it out of the Sloan Mill projects.

  Shayla shared her dreams of becoming a clinical psychologist and starting her very own practice either in Birmingham or in one of the surrounding cities. She knew there was a dire need for affordable mental health care in Alabama. Watching her mother and brother both fight a lifelong battle with bipolar disease made her more determined than ever to help people suffering with debilitating psychological problems. There were so many people dealing with mental health problems that they were ashamed to admit, and even those that admitted it did not get consistent and/or proper treatment. This was a cause that she was passionate about, even as a teenager.

  At seventeen, Shayla had her life all mapped out. Not only would she help the mentally-challenged live a better life, but by the age of twenty-eight, she’d find the perfect husband. By thirty, they would have traveled the world over and would be working on starting a family. Also by that time, she would own a three-story home with a Denali sitting beside the latest sport-style Mercedes in her four-car garage. She had not come from much, but her goals for a picturesque future were far bigger than what she could see with her natural eye. When her grandmother told her, “If you work hard to overachieve, Sweet Pea, everything you desire in this world will be at your fingertips,” she had taken those words to heart.

  As far as the new love affair went, things were going so well that after a few months the duo had eventually went on a few dates, spoken on the phone at all times of night, and Shayla had even skipped school a few times to hang out with him. At this point, they were inseparable. Seeds of puppy love had been planted. History was in the making, and on her graduation night, she gave to him her most
precious gift – her virginity.

  From the minute they left her graduation party, they were hugging and kissing and could barely keep their hands off each other. When they had finally consummated their relationship by making love, Titus had no doubt in his mind that he wanted Shayla on his side as his main girl. She had to be on his team forever. And Shayla loved the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. The next morning after graduation, she had to talk to someone, so she called Ronnie to tell her about her night with Titus.

  “Girl, last night everything was so special. Titus went overboard and bought me roses, a necklace, and a ring.”

  Ronnie teased, “Whatever, chick! I see that you just brushed your girls off for yo’ special night wit’ yo’ man, huh?”

  “I’m with my girls all the time, Ronnie. Don’t be acting all jealous and selfish. You know I had something special planned with Titus,” said Shayla, stopping Ronnie before she started tripping. “Now listen, and stop butting in, so I can tell you about it.”

  “Do tell.” Ronnie smirked, secretly a bit envious of the fact that Shayla seemed so happy these days.

  “Besides the fact that I love Titus like my next breath, all I can say is that man is all that and a bag of chips! Can you say three snaps in a circle? That man… that man!” Shayla stopped, as if the sheer memory of the prior night had taken her on a ride.

  “Oh, you are going to have to give up the goods! Give up the goods.” Ronnie rushed impatiently, ready to hear the details of Shayla’s night.

  “Okay, so we drove to the Hilton in Montgomery, right?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “By the way, that’s a nice ass hotel! He had the room decorated with rose petals meticulously placed about the floor and bed. Candles were everywhere, honey. He even had a bottle of champagne, which we didn’t get a chance to touch. That man took his time. He had to, you know, because it was my first time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to make love to every inch of my body. Treated me like I was the most important woman in the world. I’ve never experienced anything like it, ever. I think I love him. No, I know I love him. He’s going to be my husband, girl! I just know it.”

  “Wait a minute, girl. Wait a minute.” Rhonda sounded as though she were at a loss for words as she put Shayla on hold, called Gladys, and then connected the three of them on a three-way call.

  “This is too juicy, so I had to get all my girls together. Shayla don’ let Titus pop her cherry! And now she’s talking about marrying him. Tell Gladys what you told me, but start from the beginning,” Rhonda said, sounding excited for her friend, but at the same time, her voice held a bit of sarcasm.

  “I want details, blow by blow, of what could possibly have you talking marriage after one night of so-called ‘love making’, mija,” said Gladys.

  So, Shayla started from the beginning, inviting her friends into the most intimate evening of her life – the night that she had become a woman.

  Part 2: Eleven Years Later

  Chapter 3

  Shayla

  What is the use of having the world when you had no one to share it with? That was a question that I struggled with all too often for my own taste after six long years of marriage, and the question had become all too cliché. It’s an absolute wonder how time, a whole lot of trials, and many tribulations could change a woman’s outlook on life and love. As it turned out, I did marry Titus, but I never became a clinical psychologist or opened my practice to help others like I had dreamed and my relationship with Titus was far from perfect.

  As I paused a moment to take in the sensual and alluring ambience I’d set for the evening, the question pounded into my head like a meat cleaver. The strongest thud pulsated against my temple, sending a pang from my head through my body. That pain took up residence in my heart, piercing my already tattered soul. My mind raced, pondering a million and two questions.

  “How could he do me like this again? How could I let him? What had we come to? Where were we going? Why do I love so hard that I can’t let go?” I asked these questions to no one in particular. I was all alone, again. I couldn’t pin down the moment in time that the insatiable joy had left our relationship, but that joy had slipped away from our beautiful home without leaving even the faintest trace of existence.

  E-lec-tri-city was in the air, and I was proud to have successfully turned my backyard into a lover’s paradise. Positioned in the middle of the jumbo gazebo in the backyard, the Jacuzzi flowed with warm bubbly water scented with a touch of jasmine oil. Dim post lighting outlined the gazebo creating a glowing allure that could take a lover’s breath away. Pink floating candles shone brightly at the four corners of the gazebo, and an assortment of designer candles meticulously placed around the Jacuzzi added just the right effect. I had anticipated a beautiful night with him.

  Well, that burning anticipation dwindled and finally fizzled out once the champagne got hot, the gourmet shrimp fettuccini I had slaved over got cold, and every bubble in the Jacuzzi fizzled down to faint traces of soap scum. What was supposed to be a night of fiery unyielding passion had turned into a night starring me, myself, and I. I could have screamed when I realized all of the work that I had put in to make this night magical was in vain. Instead of

  screaming, I decided to call my best friend, Rhonda, the only person that I could vent to at the moment.

  Making my way back into the house, I picked up the cordless phone from the kitchen and speed-dialed the familiar number. The anger began to build as I stepped back out into the dreamy setting I had created in my backyard. The romantic aura had now gone stale with unrealized expectations.

  “Ronnie, this negro has done it again!” I fumed, clearing the unused dishes from the picnic table and bringing them back into the kitchen.

  “Girl, don’t start. What is it now?”

  “He stood me up, again. That’s what.”

  “Oh, really?” Her ears seemed to perk up on the other end of the line.

  “Just straight pushed me to the back like some kind of second class wife! He’s not even answering his cell, now.”

  As I spoke the words to Ronnie, my sister-from-another-mother, I fought back a lone tear that kept threatening to break out of its prideful prison and roll freely from the corner of my eye down my cheek. If I wasn’t wearing his platinum and diamond ring on my finger, I would have thought that I was just some sideline ho vying for his attention.

  Aside from the ring and living in his main home, that’s just how I felt. The simple thought of being played to the left by the only man that held my heart cut me deep to the core. He hadn’t been home in weeks. He hadn’t made love to me in over a month, and I hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with him in just as many days. It had been three days ago when he finally called to make tonight’s broken promise to reconnect.

  "I can't believe I let myself fall for his lies again, Ronnie. He doesn’t even respect me enough to show up when he makes plans with me.” My hands shook as I poured myself a glass of the warm champagne, taking a long swig with vengeance. Frustrated, I leaned back against my kitchen counter, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder, one arm crossed under my breasts while the other hand nursed my drink.

  My gaze dropped slightly, and my spirit dampened more. I added, “I mean, who am I kidding? He rarely comes home, and when he does, it’s for less than an hour or two at a time. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

  “Hang in there, sister,” Ronnie encouraged.

  “I love him like sliced bread, Ronnie. You know that, but I can’t continue on like this. I will not sit around here waiting for him night after night as my clock runs out. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’m not getting any younger. Before you know it, this diva will be the big 3-0.”

  Seeming to not address the Titus issue on purpose, Rhonda made a valiant, yet unsuccessful, attempt at cheering me up. With a smile evident in her voice, she said, “Well, look at the bright side, girl. Thirty is the new twenty.”

  �
�I ain’t never fell for that trick!” I exclaimed, standing up straight and slamming my empty glass on the kitchen island in front of me. “Thirty is not the new twenty. Girl, go check that mirror one more time. You and I, we look twenty-eight.”

  Just the mention of my age made me feel worse. I was not getting any younger. Having spent so many years with a man that didn’t seem to realize just how precious time truly was, and the fact that I was not living according to my dreams, added at least five years to my age.

  At that point, I lost my battle with that stubborn tear. It claimed its freedom as it drizzled down my right cheek and fell onto the carpeted floor, alongside my pride and self respect. If my father could see me now, he would be so disappointed.

  This marriage to Titus and ‘the streets’ had me experiencing the weakest point of my life. I couldn’t believe how far gone I was for a man who had somehow managed to inspire me to reach for the stars only to shoot my rising star down.

  I had rearranged and reorganized all of my goals and dreams to accommodate his. He successfully stole my heart, and then just like a thief in the night, he locked me away in this secure palace and left without a trace. In the short period of time that we were together, I had managed to break off nearly every tie to the outside world and put anything that I might have wanted to do with my life on hold.

  My dream of being a clinical psychologist was shelved as I helped Titus strategize and grow his business. When he made his first million, he said, “No wife of mine will be working.” So, at his persistence, I reluctantly settled into the idea of being a pampered housewife.

  I settled myself in. I always believed in his promise that right now we were just stacking chips with the understanding that once the day came when his money was all clean, we would revisit my dream of opening the psych office. That had always been my goal.