“If you say so.” Stretching her feet across the seat, Fancy’s head weighed heavily on his thigh.
Darius wanted to sleep, too, but all kinds of shit ran through his head. Especially when Ashlee had the audacity to say, “I love you no matter what.” Liar. Love didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with what she’d said.
The driver was already cruising on Interstate 5 south, practically a straight shot to L.A., but hours away. Folding his limp dick in his pants, Darius closed his eyes trying to understand how a woman’s need to be loved vastly differed from a man’s desire to love a woman.
Perhaps his mother’s need for love or her desire to be adored was the reason it took Darius Jones twenty years to discover her lie. After a paternity test confirmed the truth, Darius took back or should he say claimed his real name and irrespective of whether his mother was to blame he could never eradicate the pain or escape the shame of having to explain why, at twenty years of age, he’d changed his last name. From Jones to Williams.
With the exception of not marrying Fancy and losing his firstborn, the day his mother told him who his biological father was was the worst day of Darius’s life. Darryl Williams. That was his real daddy’s name, but how could Darius regain the years? Years lost. Not knowing the man he’d idolized growing up. His dad was a former NBA-star. Darryl was his college basketball coach when Darius played at Georgetown.
Darius’s mother knowingly sent him to Georgetown, knowingly allowed him to play an entire season coached by his father, knowingly attended all of his high school games but never attended any of his college games, and knowingly never said a frickin’ word until after she’d tricked Darius into quitting the team to accept the executive vice-president position at her company. To repay his mother, Darius fucked all four of her top-level executives the same way she’d screwed him, secretly.
Darius imagined what his mother might think now that a few years had passed since her confession. “I’m sorry I fucked up your life sweetie. Get over it. Move on. Be a man about it. Okay, if you won’t forgive me then I’ll just have to forgive myself and you’ll have to get professional help.”
Be a man about it! About what? Her emotional autopsy gutted his insides, ripped out his beating heart, then tagged his toe, “John Doe,” like she’d done no harm. Suddenly, without cause, he’d become a heartless stranger to her. Women. They always wanted men to forget their mistakes, especially after they’d told their cure-all truth. If a man lied to his woman, she’d nag the hell out of him, reminding him every chance she got. That’s why men had two choices. Bury the lie and never tell the truth or bury his soul for the rest of his life. A man in love eventually forgot his woman’s errors but his subconscious never forgave her.
A tear sat on his left eyelid as Darius, disguised the bitterness in his voice instructing the limo driver, “Man drive faster.” The ride from Oakland back to Los Angeles seemed a lot longer than the trip going.
For a moment, Darius chuckled at how neither Fancy nor he showed up at their wedding in Los Angeles. Instead both of them ended up at the pier in Berkeley, the first stop of their first date, forever their special place. Darius would never take another woman there. Yeah, Fancy was right. They were two of a kind. Over five hundred miles away from their matrimonial service, they’d stood on the planks overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Undoubtedly, Darius loved Fancy. Fancy excited him in every way imaginable. Challenged him. Confronted him on his lies.
In his heart, Darius also loved Ashlee. Only God knew how much he loved Ashlee. Ashlee, no matter what the circumstances, supported him. Every man needed a supportive woman. Ashlee shouldn’t have had to carry his baby for nine months without him. Bury their son without him. Now that Ashlee needed him, she shouldn’t have to deal with her illness without him. He’d already failed her several times.
Glancing down at Fancy while she slept, Darius thought, Stop trippin’ dog. Your commitment isn’t to Ashlee. You’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world on your lap.
Darius had already revealed more of his skeletons than he’d intended to Fancy, but how could he explain to his fiancée the phone call he’d received from Ashlee? He couldn’t. Hopefully, things would work out and he wouldn’t have to.
Quietly Darius leaned closer to Fancy making sure she was asleep. Then, he quietly dialed Ashlee’s number.
“Hey, how are you?” Ashlee answered like she hadn’t just given him the worse news of his life next to the day she’d told him their son died.
Angrily, Darius whispered, “How do you think I am? Were you serious about what you said earlier or trying to fuck up my wedding?”
“I was at your wedding. You weren’t.”
Darius’s lips tightened. “So what you sayin’? You was gonna drop that shit on me in front of over a thousand people?”
“You mean like the way you dropped me?”
Darius became quiet. Biting his bottom lip, his eyes automatically shifted to the corners whenever he lied or avoided telling the truth. He had no nonargumenta-tive response, so he waited for Ashlee to say something.
“Darius, I need to see you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now or ever,” Darius replied, worrying how he’d feel about Ashlee if he did see her.
Firmly she asked, “Where are you?”
Darius whispered, “On my way home,” checking on Fancy, praying she was still asleep.
“Which home?”
Lowering his voice more, Darius mumbled, “The Valley. Why? What’s up with all the questions? You haven’t called me in months.”
“How close are you?”
Darius hissed, “Where are you?” then tightly ground his back teeth flinching his jaws.
“Close.”
“To what? Ashlee, don’t. Look, I can’t ignore what you said earlier, but right now I gotta go. Don’t call me. I’ll call you later.”
“I’m sick of being your fuckin’ puppet!
Widening his eyes, Darius’s forehead tensed in disbelief giving him an instant headache as he continued listening.
“Ashlee, please move in with me. Ashlee please don’t leave me. Ashlee I need you to work for me. Let me lick your pussy. Ashlee let me fuck you! Well, I’m tired of being fucked! Doing every damn thing your damn way just to make you happy when you obviously don’t give a shit! About me! So I’mma tell you the fuck what!” Ashlee breathed heavily into his ear, then softly said, “Better yet, hurry your ass home. I’ll talk to you when you get here.”
Quick sharp puffs of air escaped Darius’s flaming nostrils as he shut his eyes rolling his eyeballs to the top of the sockets. “Ashlee, you’d better not be at my house.” Darius wanted to exceed her anger but said, “Fancy’s carrying my baby and she doesn’t need to deal with your nonsense.”
Darius could’ve simply said Fancy was with him, but Ashlee already knew that and that wouldn’t have convinced Ashlee to stay away from him. Damn, did he trust Ashlee wasn’t daring enough to trespass on his property that he hadn’t changed the locks? Fuck! How stupid.
“Our house. I love you Darius. I’ll see you when you get home. Bye, baby.”
Smothering his voice, Darius hissed, “Ashlee. Ashlee. Damnit,” then sucked in all the oxygen he could before blowing the hot air out of his mouth.
A woman sure knew how to fuck with a man’s head. Heads. Both of his were in pain: one from not getting enough pussy and the other from hearing too much bitchin’. Was any of the shit Ashlee said true?
How could Darius tell Fancy he couldn’t make love to her? Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe never again. He definitely didn’t want Fancy to hear the bad news from Ashlee. Why, of all days, had Ashlee called him on his wedding day to fuck him up?
Interrupting his mental monologue, the limo driver said, “Mr. Williams, you’re home,” cruising into the driveway.
Darius lowered the rear tinted window staring at his house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen lights were on. Seconds later, all of the lights went
out.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2004 by Mary B. Morrison
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-0726-5
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