“Don’t look at me. I don’t know her. But she is a cutie. Hee, hee.” Rich chuckled, wiping his lips with a paper napkin.
A sky blue mat was rolled into a sack strapped across her back. Black Lycra pants clung to her wide hips, thick thighs, and well-toned calves and disappeared inside her ankle boots. The safari waist-length jacket was zipped low, exposing magnificent cleavage. Her hair was smoothed into a short bobtail that slightly curled under, highlighting her gold hoop earrings.
“I’ve seen her before.” Wellington smiled. “She attends the yoga class across the street.”
“How do you know that?” Kojo asked, deepening his voice.
“Because, sometimes I take a class after I leave here.” As she walked up to the counter, Wellington approached her and said, “Let me order for you.”
In slow motion she nodded and lowered her eyebrows. “Sure.” She paused, then asked, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere?”
Wellington turned and winked at his friends. “Casper, two organic house coffees for here, please.” Leaving the fellas, Wellington sat at the piano with his lovely prospect sitting close behind on the love seat.
D’Wayne’s family photos were lined atop the black piano. An antique cedar chest functioned as one of the coffee tables while six of Kojo’s original oil paintings adorned one side of the wall. Patrons lounged in the nearby old-fashioned high-back chairs, munching on Casper’s breakfast bagels and pastries. Banging on the keys, Wellington mimicked Jamie Foxx’s imitation of Stevie Wonder. She fell on her side with laughter, which was exactly what he’d hoped for, a woman with flexibility and a sense of humor. Just like Jada.
“I’m Wellington Jones, and you are?” Wellington passionately pressed his moist lips on the back of her hand.
“Simone Smith. Your pleasure.” The gentleness of her glimpse lingered.
Joining Simone on the love seat, Wellington noticed her plump thigh felt nice and soft against his. Her voluptuous figure resembled Jill Scott’s. Simone’s cleavage was speaking to his tongue. How she packed all those goodies into a tank top should qualify for The Guinness Book of World Records. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but how old are you?”
Simone looked directly into his eyes. “Old enough to make my own decisions, work a nine-to-five, and pay my own bills. What you really want to know is if I’m free, single, and available for a date Friday night.”
Well, she certainly wasn’t shy. And at the moment, she was engulfing his senses. Simone’s mouth was twice as wide as Jada’s. So wide that when she laughed, he verified she had all thirty-two teeth and her tonsils. Thankfully, the guys were too far away to hear her comment. He’d ask her out, but not so soon. Wellington was enjoying the chase. “I’ve seen you at yoga.”
Simone snapped her fingers and nodded. “Right. Right. That’s where I’ve seen you. You look different in regular clothes. Sexy. But different.” Simone leaned her head back on the cushion, elongating her neck and awakening The Ruler.
No woman had managed to conjure up a tingling sensation since Jada. Hopefully Simone was on her way to and not from yoga. “Are you going to class today?”
Simone’s succulent lip movements made his saliva glands overreact as she mouthed a simple, “Yes.”
Fortunately, The GAP store across the street opened early. He refused to miss out on sealing a date with Simone. Wellington held his breath to control his breathing pattern and slow down his heartbeat. Exhaling, he asked, “How old did you say you were?” He was thirty-nine, almost forty, and she appeared at least fifteen years his junior.
She scooted to the edge of the cushion and said, “I didn’t.” Simone moved until her face was so close Wellington inhaled the organic aroma of beans. “Thanks for the coffee. Hopefully, I’ll see you in class. Peace and blessings, my beautiful black brother.” If he responded, his mouth would touch her honey-covered, luscious lips. So he remained silent. Simone stood, zipped up her jacket, and sashayed out the door.
Wellington remained seated on the love seat, allowing Simone enough time to walk across the street, down the block, and up the stairs to class. On his way out, he waved goodbye to the guys.
“You’re leaving already? You just got here,” Rich said.
“Yeah, man.” If he stayed, Rich would engage him in conversation about Simone and Socrates. Sometimes four hours whisked by talking about any and everything at the Jahva House. Meeting Simone was the best thing that had happened to Wellington since the birth of his son and his breakup with Jada. “Gotta go to class, man.” Wellington laughed and jaywalked across Lakeshore to the GAP.
Chapter 6
What did the lonely do at Christmas?
The past four years Jada, Wellington, and Darius had spent Christmas together. One of the six annual times they pretended to be a family, celebrating each of their birthdays, and Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day. But this year was depressing. Once Wellington started dating Simone, Jada stopped making love to him, and that wasn’t because he’d quit trying. Jada couldn’t fathom being the other woman.
Simone’s influence altered their holiday activities one hundred and eighty degrees. None of the stockings Jada had decorated would hang by Wellington’s chimney, including his. Although she didn’t want him, she’d never envisioned him with anyone else. She had imagined that if she remained single, he would, too.
Mama phoned and insisted she and Darius spend the holidays with Robert and her in Oakland. Another time Jada wished she’d followed her first instinct. Paying for a luggage cart at the Oakland International Airport and selecting a rental car from the premier isle were disheartening because until now, every year Wellington had picked them up and carried their bags. If it wasn’t for Darius, Jada would have stayed in Los Angeles.
“Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Darius dragged his red, blue, and green child-sized suitcase with the wheels facing up.
“He made other plans this year, sweetie.” Thanks to Simone. She looked around. Too many happy people were on the plane, at the airport, and at the rental car pickup.
Darius tugged on her knee-length crimson sweater. “Let’s call him!”
“We can call him later, honey.” Jada said as they found their rental car and left the airport. “Mommy has some last-minute shopping to do, and the stores close at six o’clock today. So I’m going to drop you off at Grandma’s.” Jada wasn’t anxious to tackle the task of wrestling with last-minute shoppers who would grab everything she stared at for more than fifteen seconds. Most of the time they didn’t really want the item; they merely wanted first consideration.
“Why do you sound so sad, Mommy? I love you.” Darius’s eyes drooped, and his mouth curved downward as teardrops soaked into the Raiders jacket Robert bought for Darius’s birthday.
Since Darius was in the backseat where his mama had insisted he would ride until the auto dealers made air bags safe enough for children to ride in the front—and couldn’t see her face, Jada changed the inflection in her voice. “Mommy’s not sad,” she lied. “Would you like to see a giant Christmas tree tonight?” Jada beamed with excitement.
“Yes!” Darius’s eyes lit up as he clapped.
Why could a child’s sadness be eradicated in a matter of seconds but not an adult’s? Over development of the billions of brain cells perhaps?
They soon reached Grandma’s house. When Jada opened the door, Darius hopped out and ran up the stairs.
“How’s our big boy?” Mama asked.
“Whatcha feedin’ this rugrat? Miracle growth?” Robert jokingly gave Darius a one-two punch to the ribs and tilted his chin. “Boy, looks like you been crying. Crying is for girls and sissies. Remember that.” Robert straightened his back and asked Darius, “Are you a girl?”
“No! I’m not a girl.” Darius stood like Robert.
“Are you a sissy?” Robert saluted Darius.
“No way!” Darius saluted back.
Mama said, “Robert, don’t go filling Darius’s head with nonsense. Boys have feelings, too.”
“Hi, My Dear! I miss you. I love you.” Darius hugged his grandma’s neck and kissed her cheek. “I brought some cookies for Santa.” He unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a huge bag of gingerbread cookies. “You got milk, My Dear?”
Robert snatched the brown bag. “I got milk, and now I have cookies.”
Darius kept jumping and grabbing, but each time Robert held the bag higher.
“Mama sure is glad y’all came, baby.” Mama embraced Jada and said, “Jazzmyne, Candice, and Terrell are in town. They’re stopping by tomorrow for a little holiday cheer. Can you believe the wonderful weather we’re having this Christmas Eve? Sixty-five degrees. Y’all come in. Robert, give the boy his cookies before they get all crumbled.”
As fast as they had come outside, Mama and Robert must have been sitting at the window, waiting.
Jada thought about her friends, whom she would see tomorrow. Respectfully, Candice had stop divulging their secrets; but four years had gone by, and Terrell still hadn’t married Candice. Every year she set a date, and every time Terrell had an excuse to change it before she mailed the invitations.
“Mama, I’m going to the mall. I’ll be back.”
“Okay, baby. We’ll wait ’til you get back before we eat dinner.”
Darius ran inside with his cookies. Mama and Robert followed.
Everything Jada wanted to purchase at the San Francisco FAO Schwartz—one of the world’s largest toy stores, standing four stories high—was either sold out or the lines were too long. Deviating from her list, Jada shopped at Embarcadero Centers One, Two, and Three for presents. Jada found the perfect gift for Wellington, a crystal heart with a two-by-two glass mirror so whenever he looked at her heart, he could also see his heart. Straight, gay, and lesbian lovers cheerfully strolled along Market, Powell, and Embarcadero Streets, clinging to one another as Jada wrestled with the oversized packages. Children dressed in black and white with red ribbons and bow ties merrily sang carols while spectators gathered and listened, another group for Jada to maneuver around.
After tossing the neatly wrapped boxes on the backseat, Jada hurried to her mom’s house to pick up Darius before sunset.
“What’d you do? Buy up the store?” Robert asked, taking several gifts.
“Of course not. Where’s Darius?” Before Robert answered, Jada yelled, “Darius, honey, let’s go!”
Darius came running with his black-and-silver jacket in hand.
“Mama, we’ll be back in an hour. I promised Darius I’d take him to see the Christmas tree.”
“One more hour won’t hurt me, but Robert needs to eat a little something now,” Mama said.
Darius pulled Jada’s hand until they were out of the house. As they drove, he shared how his My Dear let him bake a cake and how it had sunk in the middle because he kept opening the oven door. Parking in Jack London Square’s garage, Jada realized she was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, she hadn’t listened very well to Darius. The giant tree near Barnes and Noble Bookstore stood so high all Darius said was, “Wow!” Then he raced, circling the pine branches until he was breathless. Catching his second wind, Darius pointed and said, “Mommy, look, there’s Daddy.”
Darius scurried over to Wellington and whom Jada presumed to be Simone. Wellington was giving the valet attendant in front of Scott’s Restaurant a claim check for his car.
Jada’s body felt weaker than it had the day she gave birth to Darius. This was the first time she’d seen Wellington with a date. Oh, no, he was not bringing her over. Divas didn’t duck, dodge, run, or hide, so Jada instantly masked a phony smile.
Extending her hand, Jada said, “Darius, honey. Come to Mommy.”
When Wellington embraced Jada, she lovingly rubbed her hand up and down the back of his trench coat. She even held on a little longer than usual. “It’s so good to see you. Darius asked about you earlier.”
Wellington nervously stepped back and said, “Jada, this is Simone Smith. Simone, this is Jada.”
Introduction of the last name was a dead giveaway. Good. Wellington had no intentions of marrying Simone. She was cute and all, but it wouldn’t hurt her to shed fifty pounds or more. What did Wellington see in Simone?
“Hi.” Jada gave her best Colgate smile and extended her hand.
Simone stared at Jada from head to feet and back to her face, then said, “Ba, we’d better get going. I haven’t given you your surprise yet.” Simone slipped her arm inside Wellington’s and turned away.
No she did not just call him ba!
“Yeah.” Wellington bit his bottom lip, and puckered a kiss at Jada. Then he turned to Darius and said, “Daddy will see you tomorrow morning, fella. Take care of your mommy for me.”
“Okay, Daddy. Love you,” Darius said.
Wellington smiled at Darius, “I love you, too, son.”
Whistling like Grandpa Robert had taught him, Darius spread his arms like a bird as he glided back to the tree.
Wellington looked at Jada and mouthed, “I love you, ba.”
Oh, no. She was not going to be the joke of the day. Jada responded, “I love you, too,” loud enough for Simone to know Jada could easily take Wellington away from her if she wanted. For the first time Jada realized she didn’t have an endearing name for Wellington. As Simone turned around, Jada walked away. Her breath short-circuited like one of the bulbs on the pine tree, but who had noticed? Who cared? Ol’ Saint Nick had dumped twelve tons of coal in her heart.
Chapter 7
A night plagued by insomnia and filled with sex left Wellington restless. Unlike Jada, Simone constantly tossed and turned in her sleep. Maybe she was still upset about him saying, “I love you, ba,” to Jada. He’d never make that inconsiderate mistake again. Wellington gave up on tugging the king-sized covers, slipped into his pajamas, and made his way to Simone’s couch. It was three o’clock in the morning. If he masturbated, that would knock him out for sure. After rubbing and stroking for ten minutes, he realized Simone had extracted all of his sap. The next four hours the flat-screen television watched him while he gazed at the ceiling, counting backward from a thousand and creating stock portfolios in his head.
Making his way to the shower, Wellington tiptoed, trying not to awaken Simone. The steamy water relaxed his muscles so much he wanted to tuck himself inside the comforter as if it were a sleeping blanket and take a nap, but there wasn’t enough time. He’d promised to pick up his son early, and knowing Darius, he’d already opened all of his toys and was ready to go. Jada had probably stuffed the ripped Christmas paper and tattered boxes into hefty trash bags. In the midst of putting on his brown knee-length socks, Wellington stopped, retreated to Simone’s guest bedroom, and closed the door.
As a family in the eyes of God, the last three years Wellington had led the prayer on Christmas morning reaffirming for Darius the true meaning. This year he knelt alone and prayed as if they were together. “Oh, Heavenly Father, we give praise to You on Your birthday. We thank You for Your many blessings throughout the year and especially today. Thanks for keeping us healthy and safe as we realize many families are mourning the loss of their loved ones. We ask that You let not their hearts be troubled. In light of the holiday spirit, Lord, our family gave generously to the Battered Women’s Organization. We pray the season will be joyous for them. Please, Lord, bless them with the courage to love themselves, as You love them. Before we open our gifts, we pray that You open our minds and hearts with appreciation for each card and every present. Amen.”
Wellington felt strange as he stood. He was full of praise, but the void in his heart could be filled by only one woman. Simone was still asleep, so he slipped on his brown slacks and his tan tapered—but not too tight—long-sleeved sweater that vaguely outlined his biceps, chest, and abs. He picked up his keys and headed to Jada’s mother’s house. When Jada opened the door, Wellington expected the heartbeat in his chest to drop below his waist. Instead, his heart skipped a beat.
Every Christmas since they had me
t, Jada had changed stunning outfits at least three times Christmas Day. Last year, nighttime was his favorite because they had dressed up for each other, danced under the moonlight on his patio, and then skinny-dipped in his heated pool.
Today her eyes were noticeably red and puffy. Her silky strands of hair were uncombed and tangled together. The only time he’d seen her in pajamas was when she wore his top with her legs exposed, or his bottoms, showcasing her beautiful breasts.
“Hey, come on in. Darius has been waiting for you.” Jada closed the door and walked to the rear. The red-and-blue plaid pajamas were too big and too wrinkled.
Darius raced by, bumping into Jada. “Hey! Daddy is here!” Boing. Boing. He jumped as if he were on a pogo stick.
“Hey, son! Looks like Santa’s elves worked overtime this year.” He hugged and kissed Darius, then peeped to see if Jada was coming back. Instead, Wellington saw Robert.
“What’s up, Homey? Merry Christmas. Jada give you your gifts?”
Flatly, Wellington answered, “Naw, not yet.”
“Well, we can take care of that,” Robert said as the white ball of his Santa’s cap bounced off of his right ear. “Have a sit-down.”
“Merry Christmas, Wellington,” Mrs. Tanner said, handing him the packages. She was cordial but didn’t say much to him this year, and she didn’t call him son.
Wellington glanced at his watch, wondering if Simone had called, since he’d conveniently turned off his phone. “Wow, four presents.”
“Open mine first, Daddy.” Darius shoved the decorated box in his lap and sat at his feet.
Unraveling the package, Wellington looked toward the back of the room again. “Hey, just what I wanted. A remote control car.”
“Yep, just like mine!” Darius scooted to his remote and said, “Put your car on the floor, Daddy. Let’s race!” Darius’s car flipped over Wellington’s and kept rolling.
Never Again Once More Page 5