Any Man I Want

by Michele Grant

  “Mentally tired,” I clarified.

  “Why?”

  “Too many thoughts crowding my brain.” I sighed wearily.

  “Let’s take it from the top, ‘tite chou.”

  “Are you and Pops ashamed of me?” I asked the thing that weighed most heavily. “For the sex thing?”

  She gave me a tender, but rebuking, look. “Trina, you know better. We know you. We know what you would and wouldn’t do. You’re a beautiful woman and people don’t always deal well with that. You’ve never caused us a moment’s shame in your life. You are almost thirty years old; we know you’ve had sex before. From now on, maybe you pick a man a l’il more worthy of your favors?”

  Well, she certainly had a good point there. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her expression turned fierce. “Dat Delancey boy better hope I don’t see him in the streets.”

  I did not laugh because she meant it. Alanna Montgomery was tiny, but formidable. I’d spent the majority of my life taking care to stay on her good side.

  “What else is on your mind?”

  I shrugged.

  “Maybe you spend a minute or two thinking ’bout that beautiful man across the way who can’t keep his eyes off of you?”

  “Hmpfh. He looks; he doesn’t touch.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He watches and he talks and he beats me in Monopoly.”

  “That makes him a bad guy?”

  “That makes him a bit of a mystery to me. I’m used to men who are interested in the packaging.”

  “Isn’t it nice that a man sees more?”

  “I guess. It’s just unnerving. Different.” Frustrating, infuriating, and aggravating, but I didn’t want to overshare.

  “Based on your track record, ma fille, I can’t help but think that’s a good thing. I like him for you, I always have.”

  I sat up in shock. “What do you mean, always?”

  “There’s always been quelque chose special between you two. A mother knows,” she said cryptically.

  “I think he thinks we could be special. Like happily-ever-after and all of that.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  I took a deep breath and then admitted, “I’m not sure I believe in all that stuff.”

  Her brows rose. “All that stuff? Really? You sit here with a woman still in love with her man after forty years. You say this on the eve of the wedding of your oldest frère—did any of us believe he’d ever settle down? You see Roman and Jewel. And still you wonder? What made you this way?”

  “I believe in it for everybody else. I’m not sure it’s for me,” I said in a small voice.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because I’ve never felt that for anybody. I’ve never been in love, never got my heart broken. Maybe I just don’t feel things that deeply? Maybe I’m just not that deep a person.”

  Madere pushed up from the bed and glared down at me. “Are you not my child?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am,” I answered quietly.

  “Isn’t Avery Montgomery your father?”

  “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

  “Then you should know better. We cry often, we trust sparingly, we laugh long, and we love hard. You just need to meet someone you’re willing to let down your guard for.”

  “How will I know when someone is worth it?”

  “You’ll just know.”

  I really hated it when people said that. You’ll know it when you see it—what if I don’t? What if I miss it? What if I let down my guard and the wrong person takes advantage? That would suck. I gave her a look full of skepticism.

  “Look at it like ’dis, chère. Your ex is calling you everything but a child of God, your naked hind parts are over the YouTube. In my opinion, your life can only go up from here.”

  “Mom!” I exclaimed. We exchanged glances and then burst into laughter. We fell onto the bed, rolling with mirth.

  The door swung open and Carter entered with Pops and Beau. The three men stood with arms folded. My father remained a great-looking man, over six feet tall, honey-brown skin with salt-and-pepper hair. Avery “Pops” Montgomery reviewed the scene in front of him with a twinkle in his eye. Beau stood an inch or two taller. Though Roman, Beau, and I favored each other a lot, looking at Beau was like looking at the bulkier male counterpart of myself. Carter stood in the middle of them with brows raised.

  Pops smirked. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you feelin’ all right, mon enfant?”

  I pulled myself together enough to hop up and fling myself into my father’s arms. “Hiya, Pops. I’m good.”

  He gestured to Carter with his thumb. “This one taking care of you or do I need to get the shotgun?”

  “Get the shotgun, Pops!” Beau egged him on.

  “Man . . .” Carter warned, looking uncomfortable for the first time all week. So uncomfortable that I left my father’s arms and turned to Beau.

  I kissed him on the cheek. “Behave, brother.” I stepped to Carter and threaded my arm through his. “Don’t shoot him, Daddy, I’m getting kinda fond of him.”

  “Is that right?” Beau, Carter, and Pops said in the same breath and same tone.

  Madere grabbed Beau with one hand and Pops with the other. “Allons, gentlemen. Let the children have a moment. Katrina. Carter. We’ll see you at the restaurant in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carter and I intoned.

  “We have guests. Even your Aunt Yo-Yo and her latest husband showed up. We’ve got a lot to do. I’m telling you, not twenty-two minutes, not twenty-five: twenty.”

  “Not a scintilla of a second past twenty minutes,” I repeated, holding back the urge to roll my eyes.

  “If I gotta come looking, I’m bringing my gun.” Pops slanted a look at Carter as Madere pulled him toward the door.

  “You tell him, Daddy,” Beau said. The minute his back was turned, I took off my shoe and beaned my eldest brother in the back of head. His hand sprang to his neck. “Hey! Ma, Kit’s throwing things at me.”

  “Throw something back,” she called out over her shoulder as she swept out of the room.

  Beau picked the shoe up and tossed it back. Carter and I ducked. It flew past us to land harmlessly beside the coffee table. I walked over and picked it back up, holding it in my hand.

  “Didn’t you used to play baseball? What kind of throw was that?” Carter teased.

  “I’m getting married tomorrow, my aim is off.”

  “Already blaming the little woman.” Carter sucked his teeth.

  “Did you just say the little woman up in here?” I asked incredulously.

  “Woo, bruh!” Beau laughed. “I’m going to leave you to handle that. See you at Emeril’s over by the MGM in eighteen minutes. You two be good,” he joked and ran out the door before the shoe could pop him again.

  I tapped the shoe against my hand and caught Carter grinning at me. “What?”

  Carter noted, “That’s a wicked throwing arm you got there, Kitty.”

  “Growing up with those two, I had to develop some special skills.”

  “I’ll just bet you did,” he murmured and glanced at his watch. “We have seventeen minutes, you want to change?”

  I exhaled. “This dinner should be a hot mess. Four uncles, three aunts, who knows how many cousins. At least I like the bridesmaids.”

  “Who are the bridesmaids again?”

  “Well, we’re down a few. Belle’s two sisters couldn’t make it. One takes her medical boards today and the other is eight months’ pregnant. So now there’s me, Jewel, Yazlyn, and an old friend of Jewel’s that we’ve all gotten close to, Veronica.”

  Carter nodded, “Yeah, I know Roni. Greg the banker’s wife.”

  “Gregory Samson is your banker too?” Roman met Gregory when he started dating Jewel. At the time, Greg had been dating Renee, another friend of Jewel’s. I knew Renee from when she was the marketing rep for Royal Mahogany Cosmetics and I was their spokesmodel. Long story short, B
eau and Renee hooked up. Greg found out and turned to Veronica to get over his trauma. Gregory and Veronica worked out in the long run; Beau and Renee did not. Renee and Beau had an ill-timed one-night stand just shortly after he started working with Belle, but that ended before it even started.

  Veronica had been a friend of ours ever since, Renee was kind of like our mortal enemy. She hated Jewel for finding happiness with Roman. She resented Beau for being Jewel’s brother-in-law and not wanting her anymore. And she disliked me because . . . well . . . I took every opportunity to make her life hell at Royal Mahogany Cosmetics. I just plain didn’t like her conniving ass. Ironically, Gregory and Beau had become good friends.

  “Yeah, Beau introduced us a while back and he’s brokered some deals for me. He and Roni are good people.”

  “Yep. So you ready for all this?” I asked him.

  “To stand up for Beau while he marries the perfect woman for him? Yeah, I’m ready for that.” He smiled widely.

  I studied his face. “You are genuinely excited about this.”

  “I am—why is that a surprise?”

  “I don’t know. Most guys don’t love weddings.” Actually, most of the guys I knew thought they were a waste of time and money.

  “I usually don’t, but this is Beau with Belle. I mean, let’s be real here, it’s Beau . . . and God knows I never thought I’d see the day. Aren’t you excited?” he wondered.

  “I am delighted. Like you said, this is Beau we’re talking about. But he’s my brother.”

  Carter shrugged. “He’s my brother too.”

  “On the one hand, that’s really sweet. On the other hand... ew, what does that make us?” I scrunched up my nose.

  He ran a finger down my nose. “Don’t overthink it, princess. You and I are . . . close.”

  Backing up toward my room, I smiled at him. “Close, huh?”

  “Close like gonna get closer.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . . promises, promises,” I crooned and then pointed at my watch. “Fourteen minutes, baller—we can’t be late.”

  “We most definitely cannot. I’ll see your gorgeous self by the door in about five minutes.”

  I whirled away. “See you then, handsome.”

  9

  I like a woman with a devil dancing a jig on her shoulder

  Carter—Friday, May 27—11:23 pm

  “I’m too old for this shit,” I announced to the group at large as I waved off the topless chick gyrating in front of me, offering a bottle of champagne. It was me, Belle’s father, Percy Richards, Beau, Roman, Pops, Greg, Belle’s two brothers, Davis and Dalton, along with a Louisiana guy Beau and I knew from way back in the day, Batiste Landry.

  “We all are, son,” Pops agreed, watching as a rail-thin woman with surgically enhanced boobs and buns twirled on a sparkly pole.

  Beau stood at the edge of the booth and squinted around, “Is it me or are all these girls really, really—”

  “—Surgically enhanced?” Roman offered.

  “—Young enough to be jailbait?” Greg shook his head.

  “—Limber?” Davis offered.

  Percy smirked. “Boys, I don’t want to act like the old dude in the club, but since I am probably the oldest cat in this place, could we just—”

  “Find someplace quiet to have a drink and a cigar? Mais oui, that sounds like a plan,” Beau said and we all stood up with varying degrees of relief.

  “My bad,” I apologized. “I asked the concierge to make us VIP reservations at a lounge for a bachelor party and she automatically assumed this is what we wanted. And when no one said anything when we walked in, I decided to suck it up for you guys.”

  “It’s not that big of a hardship watching naked women shake their booties, but I have to admit, some of the appeal is gone,” Batiste said, shrugging, as we slid out the booth.

  “Wait,” Beau said. He and I exchanged looks. “Mon ami, for old times’ sake?”

  I chuckled, “Oh, why the hell not?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a money clip. “Ladies?” It was almost comical how the sight of a stack of bills caused a ripple of energy to run through the place. I stepped over toward the stage and shuttled the bills up in the air, making them rain down in increments. I backed out of the way as girls and customers alike scurried over to grab up what they could. With a gesture, I led the fellas out of the club and back to the limo. I leaned over and gave instructions to the driver. He nodded and held the door while we all climbed in.

  “I wonder what the girls are doing?” Roman asked and all heads swiveled toward him.

  “You whipped like that?” Davis laughed.

  “Have you seen my wife?” Roman asked him with a raised brow.

  “Not just his wife, mine too, all those ladies. Not a one of them is hard on the eyes. You think they went the male stripper route?” Greg wondered.

  “Naw, Belle’s too classy for that,” Dalton said.

  “I know my daughter and she goes toe to toe with Beauregard. I wouldn’t be so sure,” Percy said, smiling.

  Pops snorted and pointed at Dalton. “Son, that’s your sister, so I mean no disrespect, but any woman hooked up with Beau is no angel.”

  “Amen,” Beau agreed.

  “Isn’t your wife with them, Pops?” Batiste asked.

  “Ain’t no angel married to me either. I don’t know about you boys, but them angelic women bore me to tears. They wouldn’t want me and I sure wouldn’t know what to do with one. I like a woman with a devil dancing a jig on one shoulder while the angel sits on the other, tu comprends?”

  “Makes sense to me,” I agreed. Not that there was anything wrong with a saintly woman, except when you’re the kind of man who knew regular intervals of holiness were not realistic for him. “I like a woman with a little more naughty than nice.”

  “This explains Katrina’s appeal to you then,” Roman said drolly.

  “Right, ’cuz without that she’s such a troll otherwise?” Greg asked.

  “Own money. Drop-dead gorgeous. Brains. Well-raised. Sense of humor.” Dalton looked at Pops. “Any nieces or second cousin’s daughters you’d like to introduce me to?”

  Pops gave him the stink-eye. “This one hung around for fifteen years and I’m still not sold on him with my bèbè. You ain’t been round but a minute, youngun.”

  “Whelp, you tried it,” Beau teased his future brother-in-law.

  “He is a whole lotta try,” Percy teased his son.

  The limo pulled to a stop in front of the Mirage hotel. “Gents, inside if you will.” I got out and led the way. We cut through the casino and headed toward the south entrance. We entered Rhumbar and a hostess came over to greet us immediately.

  “Parks, party of nine,” I announced. Rhumbar was an upscale cigar lounge and cocktail spot with a laid-back vibe, grown-ups, and no loud music.

  Her smile widened. “Welcome sir, we have an area reserved for you out on the patio.”

  We cut through the leather seating and widely spaced aisles to head outside. A grouping of sofas and chairs overlooked a water feature and low-key jazz filtered in quietly from hidden speakers. We chose seats around the table and stretched out easily. A uniformed gentleman set out an ice bucket, glasses, three different bottles of scotch, and opened up a humidor. “Your choice, gentlemen.”

  “This is nice.” Percy nodded, pulling out his cell phone.

  “I’m gonna post this to the Facebook. You boys smile like you got good sense.”

  Obligingly, we all huddled in and smiled while Percy figured out how to click and post a picture. Batiste sloshed a small measure of a single-malt scotch into a tumbler and picked a cigar out. “Now this is more my speed.” He raised his glass. “To brother Beau on the eve of your nuptials, which none of us thought we’d live to see.”

  “Amen.” Pops raised his glass.

  “Brother Beau,” Roman toasted.

  “And his beautiful bride,” I added.

  “Mais oui.” Beau nodded with a smile.
r />   “I have a question,” Dalton announced.

  “Boy, are you waiting for permission to ask?” Percy shook his head. “Go head on.”

  “All right then, no disrespect to you or my sister, but what turned the tide for you, Beau? What made you decide to become a one-woman man?”

  “Why don’t you ask the other married fellas?”

  “The other married fellas weren’t notorious stick men.” Dalton side-eyed him.

  “Hold on now, I had some moves back in my day. Shoot. Still got a move or two now. You youngsters just don’t know. Old school is the best school.” Pops stood up and did some little hip-swiveling jig that got the tables around us to send up a cheer. Pops bowed, smirked, and sat back down. Roman topped off his glass with a grimace and passed the bottle to Beau.

  “Okay?” Batiste high-fived Pops. “Just because a bear only sips from one honeypot, don’t mean he still can’t growl.”

  I cringed. “I will pay all of you not to take that metaphor any further. Answer the man’s question, Beau.”

  Beau beamed. “It’s a cliché, but it’s true. When you meet the one woman you don’t want to lose, you commit. Period.”

  “But how did you know she was that one woman?”

  “I just knew.” Beau shrugged. “There was a specific moment when I was in a bar with Pops, Roman, and Carter. This beautiful woman came over and asked if we would join her for drinks. I had no interest. Not even the slightest temptation. I knew what I had at home was better. That’s when I knew.”

  “That’s deep,” Davis said.

  10

  I need two Tylenol, a gallon of water, and six more hours of sleep

  Katrina—Saturday, May 28—8:07am

  I cracked one eye open and squinted against the obscenely bright light coming in through the window. Rolling to my left, I encountered a hard, warm male body. Very hard. Very warm. My other eye flew open. In front of me was the chiseled, bare chest of a man. This was not a bad way to wake up. My eyes scrolled up and met Carter’s amused gaze head-on.

  “Wait . . . what?” I sat up, realized I was naked, and slid back down under the sheet. “Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que je fais? What did I do?” I glared at Carter. “What did you do?”