Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

  “Don’t stop,” she purred. He wished he could honor her command. She had no idea how badly he wanted his body to cooperate.

  The room felt suddenly hot and suffocating. He rolled over, watching Keisha and her smooth ass going to waste.

  Keisha’s hand slowly rose, coming to the rescue. He grabbed her wrist before she reached her target. “Don’t.”

  “But, baby, I need you.” She pressed her chest against his, letting her tongue circle the cross he wore on a chain. He inhaled her fragrance. Something stirred in him then quickly died when the phone began to ring again.

  “I have to get this.”

  “Just turn it off.”

  “Too late for that,” he said. “If I shut it off and he calls back, it’s an instant flag that says he’s being ignored. This guy does not like to be ignored.” He rose out of bed, slipping on his robe and grabbing the phone. He stuck his earpiece in and headed to his den.

  Gray slumped into a leather chair before answering the phone. “It’s midnight, East Coast! What?” Gray found himself shouting.

  “I can tell time, muthafucka, can you? Where’s my money?”

  “Oh, so now I’m all you got to think about, night and day?” Gray got up and closed the door. “Let me tell you something, and I’m only going to say this one time. You do whatever you have to do. Because in the end, you’re still not going to have a dime if you’re trying to squeeze it out of me. If you want blood, then kill me. Other than that, stop fucking with me over some bullshit I don’t have any control of.” He pushed the power button. This time he made sure the juice was off.

  “Baby, what’s wrong? I heard you yelling.” Keisha came inside.

  Gray’s head was down, his silk robe hanging open. She rushed toward him, pressing herself against him. She raised his face and kissed him softly. She was the only thing good and right in his world. She had put on her silk negligee. He pressed his lips against the smoothness. Underneath was the smooth taut belly where he couldn’t wait to plant his seed.

  “I’m just about ready to take you up on the elopement idea.”

  “Tell me what happened?”

  “Clients. Some of them need babysitters.”

  She spun into corporate high gear. “Who? I can help. Lloyd has me working on that baby diva girl group, but it’s not that much to do. Long as I supply them with plenty of Bubblicious packs of gum, they agree to whatever I tell them to do. I can help you out, whatever you need.” As an associate agent, she was eager to build her own roster. But seriously, she wouldn’t be working long, not once they were married. He didn’t want her to be a stray lamb for the wolves in his pack. When she’d first started at Shark and Boyd, there was a bet on the table as to who would fuck her first. Gray had won. He certainly hadn’t planned to fall head over heels, to boot.

  “You can’t help. Trust me.”

  “Fine. If you say so. But if this is how you’re going to start treating me once we’re married, I don’t like it. Suddenly I’m incapable of advice or help. When you first hired me, you acted like my every opinion was gold.” She tried to pull away. He held a tight grip.

  The look she gave him . . . Gray released her arm just as quickly as he’d grabbed it. “Please, I’m just not in the mood for emotional blackmail. Let’s just go to bed. Everything’s fine. I really don’t want to bring our work home and let it get between us.”

  “A little late for that.” She folded her arms over her pink nightie and eyed his flaccid Johnson.

  “So, you do have some of your mother’s quick wit. I was wondering when that side of you was going to rear its pretty little head. Let me know when you’re going to start charging so I can make sure I don’t waste your time,” he quipped.

  Keisha looked as if she’d been slapped, though it was her hand that had connected with Gray’s face with a hard snap. She even held her own face as if the blow had come directly from his right.

  He reached out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “You meant it.” She left him standing there. He listened as she slammed the bathroom door. Fuck. Ronny was messing with his head and messing with his life.

  “Baby, I’m sorry. Please, please don’t cry.” He spoke to the closed door. “You know what this is, baby? This is our first fight. Thank goodness, right? We got it out of the way, and that’s it.”

  He waited and listened. A couple of sniffs, and she blew. “I love you, you know that. I’m having a hard time with a client. He’s making my life a little miserable,” he spoke louder and eased his face next to the hinge. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle, baby. That’s all I was trying to say. I tell you what, I can handle anything with you by my side.”

  Still nothing. “Keisha? Come on, now. The thing about your mother, that nonsense, now you know I didn’t mean that. I was just hurt, so I lashed out.”

  “You will never speak like that to me again.” Her stuffed nose made her sound even farther away.

  “Baby, it’s over. That’s the end of it. I swear, never again.”

  “All right.” The door to the soft-lit bathroom cracked. He’d had a dimmer switch installed for soothing soaks and midnight showers. Some of the most beautiful women in the world had used his bathroom. Celebrities, actresses, singers, video dancers—all knowing he wanted nothing more than their panties. He never had to pretend it was more than what it was. After a while, they all began to look alike, smell alike, feel alike. One long constant string of sameness. Same hairstyles, same clothes, shoes, and handbags. If something was left behind, he didn’t know whom to call to pick it up. And then there was the expectation that once he’d had the goodies, he would give them preferential treatment in the agency. When the call came in from a media rep wanting a hip current soul artist to represent, they would be the one he’d sanction.

  Too bad it wasn’t that easy. He hardly felt like working that hard, trying to push a second-rate persona when he could simply suggest the current hotness of the moment. He’d had enough of wannabe-famous pussy to last him a lifetime. Especially after one-who-shall-remain-nameless refused to understand or accept the way things worked. Though she was married, she hounded him on a level that made Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction look like a model citizen. The long scratch all the way around his special-edition Jaguar was the last and final straw. He made sure every media outlet that gave a damn got the anonymous press release that the reality star was a thousand-dollar-a-day cokehead. After she quietly disappeared, Gray made a promise to stop fucking around and settle down with one bedmate. He chose Nikki because he trusted her and she wasn’t afraid to let him do everything he’d ever dreamed of doing to a woman. Most of all, she wasn’t looking for fame and wasn’t going to tell two friends, who would then tell two friends . . .

  Nikki was back from her visit to Trinidad.

  If Keisha didn’t bring her ass out that bathroom in ten seconds or less, that’s exactly where he was headed.

  He waited and she still didn’t come out, so he knocked on the barely open door. “Keisha, baby, please. Let me hold you. Okay. Open the door.”

  When she appeared, her nose and eyes were as pink as her nightgown.

  “Aww, baby.” Enclosing his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I will never hurt your feelings again. I swear. I promise.” He kissed her tender lips. She would be his answer to a better, safer, life; this much was sure. “I love you, baby. Okay? Don’t ever doubt it.”

  TLC

  Everyone thinks money will solve their problems, heal every wound, and fix every past pain. The truth—nothing could heal like a simple hug. I’d give everything I owned to feel arms around me—safe, trustworthy arms.

  It was so cold. Even in the box where I should’ve felt suffocating heat, I couldn’t stop the chill that made my teeth clatter. Cold, uncaring fear had taken over my mind. Then I heard it. The trickling sound. But it wasn’t pipes, as I’d first thought. I felt the wetness seeping around me. For a moment, I thought I’d pissed on myself. Fear mixed in with trying t
o hold it in for more hours than I could count. How much longer could I hold it anyway? But no. This liquid was cold, and it was coming slowly but surely from the bottom slats. It pooled around my bent knees, then went on to fill every lower corner of the wood box.

  In the darkness, I searched around with my fingers, trying to find where the water was streaming in. If it was open enough for a water surge, maybe I could push my fingers through and get a good grip. I stopped when I heard voices.

  The moans of lovers. Hushed whispers. “No, stop. We can’t do this.”

  The sloshing footsteps faded. The water stayed level, but I didn’t know what kind of rain to prepare for. I didn’t know what was supposed to happen that would save my life. Since I’d given up on the kindness of strangers, I had no one to depend on but myself. A new blast of energy pumped through my veins. I was determined to save my own damn self. Sometimes you had to realize that’s all you had: yourself.

  Venus

  Another rough night. I woke up angry. Get used to it, I told myself while I brushed my teeth in the mirror. I dressed and moved quickly, grateful Jake was still sleep. I scooted Mya in the backseat. She grumbled about not having eaten breakfast. I told her we would go to McDonald’s and get her favorite chicken nuggets, even though I wasn’t sure they sold them at eight o’clock in the morning.

  I put the baseball bat in the front seat next to me. I refused to be under house arrest. If someone followed me today, they were going to get a solid crack of my bad attitude. I was angry and knew that was no way to start the day. I tried to think of things I was grateful for. I only came up with one.

  “Mya, I love you, baby.”

  She didn’t bother to answer me back, just smiled. I checked my rearview mirror and was grateful no one was there, so that made two things to be thankful for. Jake called as I entered the McDonald’s drive-through. He didn’t wait for me to say hello. “I asked you to stay home. Where are you?”

  “We’re at McDonald’s, Daddy!” Mya yelled from the backseat. She was excited to hear Jake on the speakerphone.

  “You need to get back here, now.”

  “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?” The young lady on the intercom and Jake were speaking at the same time. I had no choice but to prioritize. I pushed the mute button on Jake.

  “Yes, a order of chicken nuggets, orange juice, and a coffee.”

  “A Happy Meal, Mommy.”

  “Can you make the nuggets a Happy Meal?”

  “Sorry, we don’t serve Happy Meals till eleven,” the intercom girl said. When she heard Mya’s shrill voice, she quickly changed her mind. “I can give her the toy.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pushed the button to see if Jake was still there. “. . . right now.”

  “We’re going to have breakfast and then I’m taking Mya to school. After that I’m heading to In Bloom. You and Legend have yourselves a good day playing cops and robbers.”

  “Bye-bye, Daddy,” Mya said, playing right along. School meant Jory, so for the first time my baby was on my side.

  “Don’t you—”

  I pushed the button, cutting him off. Jake would have to tell it on the mountain. Mya and I were on our merry way.

  “So you’re a woman on the run.” Vince grinned, showing the gap of his missing tooth. He rarely smiled. “Sexy.”

  “I’m not on the run. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” I pulled the tearsheet orders. The window was already fixed, and the place was good as new. I could see the deep grooved scratches in the hardwood, but felt no regret. “I’m not going to play victim. If somebody wants a piece of me, they’re going to get all they bargained for and more.”

  “Oooh, I like it.”

  “Oh, quiet. You. Mr. I-can’t-be-there-for-you. What was that about? Why were you afraid to report the break-in?”

  Silence. Vince acted like he didn’t hear me. His wide back stayed tense and unmoving.

  “Okay, don’t tell me. But if you did some unspeakable crime and they never caught you, you’d tell me, right?”

  Still no answer. “Vince?”

  “Lil’ lady, I’m too much of a gentleman to burden you with bad business. Ladies should be treated with the respect of protection and the luxury of not knowing everything.”

  “Archaic. Okay, Vince. If you haven’t heard, women aren’t fragile creatures. We actually have jobs and take care of ourselves.” I spoke to his back, since he still refused to face me. “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “We have orders to fill.” I spread the fax sheets and zeroed in on the last one. “Ohmigod.”

  “What?” Vince turned around alert and in defense mode.

  “This order . . . it’s for me.” I tried not to smile. I tried not to revel in the flattery or even bask in the five seconds of joy. Why would I? A man, a married man, orders flowers to be sent to me from the flower shop I own. I shook my head. “He knew they’d never get filled. Just him being kind,” I said mainly to myself. After all, I’d blubbered profusely in the man’s shirt. He probably thought I was a basketcase and felt sorry for me.

  Vince was behind me, reading the tearsheet. “Sounds like it’s you who got some explaining to do, lil’ lady.”

  I smiled. I seriously tried not to. I balled the sheet and tossed it in the trash. “Why, Vince—you know how sensitive you men and your egos are. Some things are best left unsaid. You know, to protect you.”

  Vince picked it up and unfolded it. “ ‘Deliver to Venus Johnston from Mr. Robert B. Stanton. You deserve to smile today,’ ” he read. “Nice message. Who’s this guy?”

  I snatched it, this time tearing it into pieces. “You’ve got your secrets, and I’ve got mine.”

  “If I’ve learned anything in my fifty-two years on this earth, it’s one thing: You’re either in or you’re out. There’s no delusions. You know from the minute you set your sights on somebody what your intentions are. So my advice, lil’ lady, be honest with yourself and decide. In or out.”

  I threw my head back and sent a hardy laugh in the air. “Please, really. Do you know I’m running around with a baseball bat in my car? I don’t have the emotional energy to expend on Senator Robert Stanton or anyone else.” I got up and went to the bathroom and closed the door. I flicked on the light. I leaned over the sink and got a close-up of myself in the mirror. He was just being polite, making sure I had no hard feelings from my daughter being left in harm’s way. It had been so long since I’d felt beautiful, smart, or clever. When I worked in corporate marketing, I spent my days confident or at least appearance-wise. Corporate hair to go with my suits and high heels. Now it was sandals, jeans, and wiry hair that could use a major trim and condition. What in the world . . . Mr. Stanton? I counted the freckles like moles around my cheekbones. My slanted eyes needed some eye shadow and liner.

  But what I knew was that men liked to rescue and feel needed. I knew my crying in front of him had just about made the man’s day. Contrary to the corporate creed, men liked to see a woman cry. It made them feel strong in their otherwise dull, uneventful lives. Also contrary to popular belief, women were the ones who hated to see other women cry. Because we secretly knew it was the ultimate dirty trick in getting attention and getting our way. What was I doing, falling into another man’s arms anyway? Maybe I did need a little attention. Hell, maybe just a hug. It wasn’t against the law.

  “Hey, lil’ lady, telephone.” Vince knocked on the door. “Robert Stanton,” he answered before I could ask. “Shall I tell him you’ll call him back . . . like never.”

  I pushed the door open, nearly hitting him. “Mind your manners. I’m your superior.” I took the receiver and closed myself back inside the bathroom, hiding behind the door. I waited until I heard Vince tearing open a box before pressing the line. “This is Venus,” I said lightly, as if I hadn’t just experienced a full fantasy starring him.

  “I’ve sent a car over. You’re going to get in that car. The car is going to drive you to the spa, where you will have a fu
ll massage, strawberries soaked in champagne, followed by lunch served in your private room. And no, I will not be joining you. I’m a married man as well as a public official. But I do know when someone needs a minute to themselves. This is not a negotiable offer. You will not tell me some other time. The car should be outside. Thank you. This is Robert B. Stanton, and I approved this message.” The line went silent.

  I came out, smiling ear to ear. I gently put the phone in the cradle. Vince said nothing. “I’ll be back. Can you handle the orders?”

  “You’re making a risky decision,” he sneered.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Risk used to be my middle name. Lately it was predictable. Waking up, taking Mya to school, then showing up at In Bloom had become a ritual snorefest. The little-floral-shop-that-could had me working sunup to sundown, all for the joy of self-employment. Self-fulfillment. But I wasn’t fulfilled. I felt like Waldo. Where in the world had Venus Johnston gone?

  The black town car sat in the red zone of the old town district. The driver waited patiently with his hands folded behind his back.

  Vince was right on my heels. “You get in that car, you’re dead to me.”

  I blew him a kiss. I got inside the backseat while the driver held the door open. There was no rearview mirror for me to check to see if I was being followed. In fact, I didn’t turn or twist one way or the other. Leaned back, exhaled, and enjoyed the ride.

  Orange Alert

  One hot stone and reflexology session later, and I was a new woman. I’d always scoffed at women who spent their hard-earned capital in narcissistic establishments. Whether it be hair, nail, or pampering, I’d believed it a waste of money. Men would take that three hundred or so dollars and have something to show for it—stocks, CDs, a new stereo, but women were forever two paces behind, and needed to be coiffed or carry the latest designer bag when we earned 30 percent less income. Go figure.