Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

I had no choice but to call my own press conference and clear the air once and for all. I paced back and forth.

  It was only a matter of time before the phone began to ring. I was hoping it was Keisha. Instead it was Gray’s drawn-out voice. Tired. Or simply bored. “Interesting news footage.”

  “I’m planning a press conference. I have to speak publicly. Let women know they’re not alone. I’d planned to spin this in my favor all along. It was all an act.”

  Another exhausted sigh. “I’m not telling you what to do. We don’t represent you anymore, remember? That was your decision. Why I’m calling is to tell you TBN doesn’t want to renew your contract.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. Who did you talk to? And if you’re not representing me, why did you take the call in the first place? You don’t have my best interest at heart. I would’ve been better off defending myself. I think we can call this malpractice. I smell a lawsuit, Mr. Hillman. How about that?”

  “Would you really try to sue your future son-in-law?”

  “That remains to be seen. If you think I’m going to let this marriage happen, you have another think coming.”

  “Let’s not go down this road again, Trevelle.” Even in his exhaustion of the subject, he sounded amused. “I’m giving you my free advice because that’s what family is for.”

  “I would have to be six feet under before I let you marry my daughter. Especially now. Your betrayal is unforgivable.”

  “I didn’t create this. You were on national television. This thing is unfixable. The best thing you can do is get quiet, get still, let it disappear.”

  “I will not get quiet. I will scream from the mountaintops. You are not going to get away with stealing my daughter and my career in one fell swoop.”

  More incredulous laughter. “You know what . . . you have some misplaced anger. I am not your problem. Like I said—take some time to recoup. Find a wonderful spa retreat and stay there. Your flock will understand a time-out for restructuring your life. It’ll only help when you make your comeback with a revitalized message. You see, I’m not even on the clock, and I’m giving the best management advice you will ever have. Take care, dear Mom. See you at the wedding. Or perhaps not.”

  His laughter still rang in my ear long after I’d hung up. It felt like everyone whom I’d ever trusted had united against me, except for Keisha and, of course, God. Knowing I had God on my side, the mightiest of all warriors, gave me a minute of peace. I continued to pace back and forth.

  I would not be defeated. I’d come through many fires unscathed. Raped repeatedly beginning at the tender age of twelve by grown men, my initiation into a world of drugs and prostitution. Suffered verbal and real abuse at the hands of a pimp who reveled in demoralizing the weak.

  That child was gone, purified in the blood of Christ. I survived for one purpose, to live through Jesus Christ. It was time to fight as I’d never fought before.

  I picked up the phone again. This time I dialed Telena Gregory, who owned the online gossip rag that seemed to be as popular and more timely than the Associated Press these days.

  “Telena, this is Trevelle Doval. I know, really, you were the first person I thought of. I’d like to tell my side of the story. How’s tomorrow morning’s schedule?” As I guessed, the gossip hound would clear her calendar. “Very good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Sugar Daddies

  “Mr. Parson, welcome. Mr. Hillman will see you now.” The woman stood over him, her bountiful breasts spilling out of a pink strapless dress. All Jake could think of was Good & Plenty, the pink candies that tasted like mint and Pepto-Bismol. “This way.” Her curves and full bottom begged to be followed. She didn’t really have to ask.

  He bet she flaunted for all the potential clients. Then again, Jake had to admit he was working the silk-blend T-shirt that showed his cuts. He wore his relaxed slacks and Bruno loafers. All the look of a man who had not a care in the world, when in reality he was bound and determined to make use of Gray Hillman.

  She didn’t give him much room to pass as he entered Gray Hillman’s office. “Anything else, sir?”

  “Not at the moment.” Gray Hillman stuck out a firm hand then pulled Jake in for a shoulder hug. He winked. “She’s hot, huh? A temp. Making me rethink letting the other one come back at all. Go ahead and have a seat. Looking good, man. You’re looking good. I don’t give male compliments lightly.”

  Jake grinned in appreciation of the truth. Even he had to admit that life wasn’t fair—he’d been overdelivered in the looks department. While he was growing up, his mother liked to remind him good looks wouldn’t pay the bills, at least not the important ones. His mother had been wrong about a lot of things. But he wasn’t there for the money. He had bigger fish to fry. Still, it was nice to know he could clean up well.

  “So tell me, Jake Parson, where do you see yourself? To hell with five years. I’m talking about right now.”

  This was no time to be shy. Jake leaned with ease in the leather chair. “I want to be highly visible.” It was a loaded statement. Jake hoped he wasn’t being too obvious.

  Gray leaned back in his chair as if he were trying to figure out how to split an atom. “Visible.” His eyes narrowed. “Commercials. I’ve got Pepsi’s marketing team on speed dial. They’ve been trying to find somebody to represent them for the last two years, ever since Bill O’Reilly jacked Ludacris of his good standing.”

  “Pepsi, cool.” Jake said, not trying to get too excited. Trying to remember he was there seriously to get information about Ronny Wilks. “Who else you workin’ with?”

  “You know what? Let’s not limit ourselves here. Let’s throw some bigger ideas on the wall. You’re a recognized face. You sold eight million copies of Juicy Lips. Numbers don’t lie. The potential is there for bigger things. I got a friend at Calvin Klein, and I know for a fact they’ve been shopping different people and they might give us a look. They just terminated Fifty’s contract. One too many tats. How ’bout you?”

  Jake patted his right shoulder. “Just one, my initials. Barely the size of a quarter.”

  “This might be the ticket,” Gray said, writing some notes. He tapped his pen for a few seconds, beating around the bush. “I’m assuming the entire mess surrounding you and those nasty homicide charges are a thing of the past, right?”

  Jake took the moment of opportunity. “Right. Buried. So you know all about that, huh?”

  “I’m sorry I had to bring it up.”

  “It’s cool. Just wish I knew who really was responsible. He had connections with a lot of people, but seems my name was the one picked in the lotto.”

  Gray’s light eyes darted slightly to his watch then back to Jake. “All right, man, sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us, but we’re about to make miracles happen.”

  “Thank you, man. I appreciate it. I knew if anyone knew how to jump-start a career, you could do it.”

  “Hey, this is what I do. Let’s work, man.” Gray Hillman leaned from the edge of the desk where he’d sat the whole time and met Jake’s hand with a tight grip. “Let’s make good things happen. I see dream team written all over it. I’ll have a contract drawn up and ready to sign by morning. Can’t wait to thank Sirena for introducing us.” He still hadn’t let go of Jake’s hand, searching his eyes for a response.

  “Sirena’s been a good friend,” Jake said. “Tell her I said hello.”

  He’d come in with an ulterior motive, simply wanting to get some quick public exposure, but the thought of getting back in the spotlight had felt better than he anticipated.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Parson. Will you be needing another appointment?”

  Before Jake could answer, Gray spoke for him: “Thursday, nine A.M., see you then, man—and do a couple of crunches in your spare time. they might want to see you with your shirt off.”

  “They’re not the only one.”

  Jake turned around, looking at the receptionist undressing him with her eyes. Gray had alr
eady disappeared.

  “Mr. Parson, do you need me to call you with a reminder?”

  “No thanks, I got it.” Jake turned and headed for the elevator. Once the doors closed, he tugged both fists in the air as if he’d won a heavyweight bout. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the rush of accomplishment. Only then he remembered there was much work to do. He reminded himself to stay level-headed. He had to clear his name once and for all.

  “I can’t go through this again. Stop whatever you’ve got planned.” Venus entered the kitchen where Jake and Legend sat across from each other. Legend got up like a dismissed child.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “One could only wish.”

  Legend exited without the last word. The tension was palatable. He knew he was running out of time before the two of them ripped each other apart. But he couldn’t let Legend leave until this thing was closed out for good.

  No more living in fear. He stood up and took her hand. “What’s your man say?” He snapped his finger to think of the bishop’s name of the church she’d dragged him to the last couple of Sundays.

  “Bishop Talley,” she answered, folding her arms over her chest and knowing she’d fallen right into this one.

  “There can be no faith where fear resides. You’ve got to kick ’em out.” He shook his head and bounced like a Baptist preacher. “You’ve got to strike fear in the heart and kill it dead.”

  “You are so silly.”

  “Something I’ve never been accused of.” His eyes lowered, and his soft breath lingered near her ear. She pushed herself closer against him, then suddenly backed away.

  “What is that?”

  She felt the small pistol strapped around his torso. He’d forgotten it was there. “Baby, it’s legal. We’re in Georgia, not California.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Please, don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry?”

  “I hate to interrupt, but I need to make my exit,” Legend boomed over their shoulders. He stood in the entryway in a close-fitting sweater, slacks, and expensive Italian loafers. His leather jacket hung over his arm as if he were simply going out for a night on the town instead of the great escape.

  “You’re not leaving till we get this mess straightened out.”

  “You’re forgetting I have a business to run. The one you don’t want to be involved in anymore, remember?”

  “Another couple of days won’t shut the place down.”

  “He wants to go. Let him go,” Venus half whined.

  Jake moved toward Legend. “Let’s roll, man.”

  “Straight to the airport now?” she said as they were going out the door.

  “Man, you know how to push her every button.” Jake drove with one hand steady. He kept his eye on the road but watched the rearview mirror for the car he knew would eventually show up.

  “It’s not hard.” Legend adjusted his seat to get comfortable for the ride. “We’ve never had too much love for one another, you know that. I will admit that she’s the best woman you ever had.”

  “Really?” Jake found this amusing. “I’m shocked.”

  “Seriously. She’s a fighter. Not the weave-pulling kind, although I have a feeling she’d take somebody down pretty quick. I mean the kind that would fight for you, stand by you, no matter what. I respect that.”

  “Thanks, man. I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Jake’s bewilderment was sidetracked. The burgundy Ford showed up like clockwork. It occurred to Jake that his car was probably wired. The only way to explain how they could find him so easily even if they weren’t following out the gate.

  “So I’ll leave you two the way I found you. Hopefully, man . . . no hard feelings.” Legend reached out for a light finger handshake.

  “We’re not going to the airport. I’m putting you in a hotel. You can’t drop me in the middle of this then run like some little pussy.”

  “You trying to blame me? You’re not trying to blame me.” He shook his head. “I’ve had your back from day one. If anything, I’ve shielded you long as I could.”

  Jake hit the brakes and pulled over. He didn’t like the way the conversation had turned. Someone else listening would get the very wrong impression. “Shielded me from what? What’re you talking about?”

  Amends for Sins

  I’m here. Can anybody hear me.

  I thought I heard muffled voices. I’d fallen asleep or gone unconscious—I wasn’t sure how to define my half state of delirium. Dreams or reality. I’d pictured the day my father came to my school on open house. I was eight years old. My teacher had threatened to kick me out of her class if one of my parents didn’t show up. My mother had refused. She’d done her time, she said. Only eight years old, in the third grade, and she thought she’d exerted enough energy trying to straighten me out. Stubborn. Hardheaded. Fast. I’d heard it so many times, it only made sense to act the role.

  My father dressed in a tweed blazer with denims before it was fashionable. He held my hand, and we walked into the classroom. He seemed so tall and gallant in a roomful of mothers. Ms. Macintosh turned giddy and red, greeting him with her big-toothed smile. He let go of my hand to shake hers. I watched her colorless knuckles gripping his hand and thought about all the times she’d dismissed me, telling me to go back to my seat. If I had something to say, raise my hand. “I raise my hand, but you keep ignoring me,” I’d told her. But that day while my father was there and asked how I was doing, Ms. Macintosh said splendid. She only wished I could learn to keep my opinions till an appropriate time.

  My father looked down at me and patted my head. “She’s just too smart for her own good, I guess.”

  I couldn’t remember if it was a compliment. I couldn’t remember if being smart is what had gotten me here. Too smart for my own good. Always seeking the answer to the question everyone else was afraid to ask. Curiosity killed the cat. I had asked too many questions, it seemed.

  Twice Blessed

  “Most people have a hard enough time dealing with only one mother. I have two.”

  “It’s okay, baby.” Gray pushed the pillow into position under his head. Keisha scooted closer and rested on his chest.

  “If I had my way, we’d just elope.”

  “Nah, it’s going to work out.” Gray closed his eyes and said a silent prayer—first for Keisha to stop talking about all the antics of the afternoon, and second to get Ronny off his case. He guessed he really had relatively minor problems compared to most of the people in the world. He drove a nice luxury car never for longer than two years running. He lived in a half-million-dollar home. He ate in the best restaurants and wore the best suits.

  They should fly down to Paradise Island and have a quiet ceremony, just the two of them. Keisha could probably talk him into anything when she brushed her hair across his chest that way. She rested her chin on her hands, looking up at him with her dark lashes.

  “Sweetheart, it’s too late. We’re going through with it. Trust me, it’s going to work out.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I can feel something bad about to happen.” She slipped into the covers like a scared child. “I remember when I was little, I always knew when a bad storm was coming.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s called lightning and thunder. Everybody can see them coming a mile away.”

  “No, this was even before the clouds. The sky would be bright and blue, but I could feel it. This storm, this one is going to be terrible.”

  “Hurricane Trevelle.”

  “Make fun if you want to. I’m telling you. If we go through with this wedding ceremony, I don’t know if we will recover.”

  “If anyone dares try to disrupt our ceremony, I will take them down with my bare hands.”

  “My knight in shining armor. I know something else you can do with your bare hands.” Keisha let him stick his fingers inside her. Usually he had to work his way there. First suckling on her breasts then nibbling at her navel. His fingers ef
fortlessly slipped inside. He was surprised to find her ready for him. “Oh, baby, damn. We have to talk about the weather more often.” He used her moisture to stroke himself. He was long and stiffer than usual. He pressed himself inside her while she arched her back and asked for more. She was wet and tighter than he remembered from a week ago. “Baby, what’re you doin’ to me?”

  “Fuck me,” she panted in his ear. “I want it hard.”

  He reared back, making sure it was his Keisha, his baby. Her sweet mouth uttering words like that. In all the time he’d known her, she may have cursed once, or maybe twice. He could feel her gasp from the pain. Their tongues mingled while he pushed every inch of himself inside her. He let himself go, raising her legs over his shoulders. No holding back, no treating her like the gentle princess; instead he was going to bang her back out just like she’d asked.

  He slowed before it was too late. He didn’t want it to end so soon. He flipped her over. Instinctively she knew exactly what to do, falling to her belly instead of staying on all fours, but keeping her derriere perched in the air. Bare back and shoulders and those firm legs sprawled open. Her wetness still begging for more. He dived in, swearing he’d gone to heaven, sweet heaven.

  Maybe, he was thinking. Possibly . . . No, he told himself. Just because she’d gone all porno on him didn’t mean she was ready to go to the next level. Mimicking the women she’d obviously spied in his DVD collection was nothing like the real thing. That’s what he saved for Nikki.

  But before he could stop himself, he grabbed Keisha’s hair, pulling her neck back into an arch. Trailing his tongue to her ear. “You want it, baby. You want it bad?” He growled, “Tell me what you want, baby?” He massaged his rod and prepared for the real prize.

  “Uh-huh,” she breathed out, having no real idea of what she was agreeing to. “Yes, baby, give it to me.”

  He reached beneath, cupping her from the front so she couldn’t get away. But before he could take hold, the annoying ring on his phone sounded off like an alarm bell. Ironically enough, he’d picked the distinct ring so he’d know not to accidentally answer, especially when his earpiece was in place, without the luxury of seeing the caller ID. More important, he could’ve sworn he’d turned the damned thing off.