After Simone became pregnant, marriage was Wellington’s idea, believing family unity was best. As often as he confided in Jada, she knew very little about Simone—until they married—but Simone certainly knew all about Jada Diamond Tanner from week one.
“The party’s tomorrow. I’m just going early to help out. I’ll be back Monday.” Wellington squeezed Simone’s breast while Junior wasn’t looking.
“Monday, huh?” Simone put her hand on her curvy hip, held Junior on the other side, blocking his access, and said, “She’s married, Wellington. Diamond is a married woman and has been for ten long years.”
“I’m not staying because of her,” Wellington said, hoping Jada would be able to get away for more than just tonight. Two black suitcases sat at the door. One oversized bag contained his clothes, and the other carry-on had Darius’s birthday presents. A remote control car, video games, a digital watch that kept time in every country, and a stock portfolio, amongst other items, filled the smaller bag, which would accompany him on the flight.
Simone had never found her soul mate, so Wellington knew she couldn’t relate. Understanding how one could unite with and depart from one’s soul mate and then spend the rest of one’s life longing for that person was like trying to solve ten Rubik cubes in two seconds. Wellington looked at Simone and said, “Stop talking crazy in front of Junior before his terrible twos roll over to three.” Time was truly his friend. Wellington could easily pass for forty-five and double as an older Morris Chestnut. He still shaved his goatee, maintained his mustache, and continued to shave his head bald. A few crow’s-feet had developed around the corners of his eyes, but they showed only when he smiled or squinted.
“Seems like he’s not the only one suffering from the terrible twos. You are too stuck on Miss Goody Two Shoes. How many times have I told you that Darius is probably not your son? But no, you don’t believe me. I had to take a blood test, but not Miss Perfect. Just wait and see. But I love you anyway.” Simone abruptly kissed his cheek.
“Brother.” Junior smiled. “He’s on the plane, Mommy. He’s coming to see me?” Junior clapped and kicked his feet.
“I told you to stop saying crazy things in front of our son.”
Simone had met Darius, and Darius had met Junior, but Simone didn’t want Jada anywhere near Junior. If Wellington told Darius how Simone felt, then Darius would tell Jada, and then Wellington would have to explain. So he made up excuses each time Jada asked to see his son. Some things were better left unsaid. If only he had believed that when he cheated on Jada with Melanie, maybe Jada wouldn’t have left him.
“Okay, you’re right.” Simone placed Junior on his feet. “Junior, go to your playroom,” Simone instructed. Wellington’s downstairs family room had been converted so their son would have play areas on both floors. The paneled walls were replaced with clear fiberglass so they could watch Junior from the living room.
“Okay, Mommy.” Junior happily ran off, saying, “Brother’s coming.”
Simone sat on the sofa next to Wellington. “Ask her if he’s your son. What are you afraid of? If he’s your son, then we can introduce her to Junior. The child looks exactly like her but nothing like you. Ask her this weekend.”
There went Simone making demands again as though she was in control. “There is no if as far as I’m concerned. Darius will be twenty years old tomorrow. I’m the only father he knows. If someone else was his father, Jada would have told me.”
“Baby, listen to me.” Simone sighed heavily. “It’s time you know for sure; that’s all I’m saying. It isn’t fair.”
What was this conversation really about? Why was Simone being so persistent? Since he was getting older, maybe she was concerned about Junior’s inheritance. Wellington responded, “Life isn’t fair.”
Simone slapped her thighs. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Well, let’s say hypothetically Jada did lie and Darius isn’t my son. That’s the worse that can happen. Right?” Wellington nodded in response to his own question. “I’ll assume she did it because his real father is an asshole like mine—”
“Don’t you dare try to justify her actions! So you’re basically saying even if she’s lying, you’ve already forgiven her?” Simone leaned back, folded her arms, and frowned.
“Basically, yes. If that’s the worst thing she’s done, I can live with that. I’ve hurt her before, and she’s forgiven me, so why can’t I do the same? Besides, Jada wouldn’t lie to me about being the father. I love her, and no matter how hard I try to deny it, the shit is real, Simone.” Wellington moved to the edge of the blue custom-designed plaid sofa. All shades of blue had become his favorite colors: royal, dark, sky, aqua, and pale.
“But you love me, too, Wellington.” Simone fluttered her eyelashes.
“True, but not like Jada, and you know that. Hear me out, Simone.” Wellington scooted closer to Simone, lowered his voice, and spoke deliberately. “Have you ever met someone for the very first time and instantly felt you wanted to share the rest of your life with that person? The moment I laid eyes on Jada, my heart damn near stopped beating. We exchanged phone numbers. I was hanging out with my buddy Walter, probably had one drink too many, and couldn’t find her number the next day. I tore up this house upstairs, downstairs, and my Benz, desperately searching. It took nine days. Actually, the woman at the dry cleaners found it. You don’t know how happy I was to get that card.”
Simone sarcastically said, “If you gave her yours, why didn’t she call you?”
“Because she’s a lady. And she’s always made me feel like a man. Some women are so independent they want to control everything and reduce their men to being boys. They have the answer to every question.” Wellington slapped the backside of one hand into the palm of the other each time he said,
“What? When? Who? Where? Why? How?” He opened his palms faced toward Simone, squinted, shook his head, and continued, “Men hate that shit with a passion. That’s why Christopher divorced Cynthia. And Cynthia still hasn’t changed, but I guess she’s too old now. Anyway, Diamond, she wasn’t like that at all. She was different.” Wellington smiled as he flashed back on their first date in Carmel. He knew he had an outdoors-chic, bona fide indoor-freak type of woman the moment Jada paused Chris Tucker’s video and said, “It’s intermission. What would you like?” Then Jada broke out the strawberry whipped cream and squirted it all over her breasts.
Wellington stared off into a daze at the memory.
Simone asked as she snapped her fingers two inches from Wellington’s nose, “What does this have to do with Darius?”
Wellington was thirty-five when his sister, Jazzmyne, had told him he was adopted. He shook his head and said, “Everything. When a man loves a woman, he accepts her child, even if it’s not his. Hell, everybody would be single if we refused to raise someone else’s kid. That’s why I don’t care, Simone. As a person that’s been adopted, I feel an obligation to give back. At this point in our lives, if Darius isn’t my son, he’ll be the main one hurt. I won’t do that to him.” Wellington pounded his chest and said, “A real man raised me, Simone, and he raised me to be the man my biological father, Keith, wasn’t.” Keith was spineless, always running away from his obligations. Anyone who cost him time or money, Keith dismissed with quickness. Wellington was no exception.
Now that Keith was growing old and feeble, he called almost every day, pretending to check on Junior and asking about Darius. Really, he just wanted Wellington to keep paying his bills and giving him an allowance. Keith had never held a steady job, so he had no retirement income. Social Security gave him a stipend, but he’d have to feed on dog food and choose between buying his blood pressure medicine and having a roof over his head.
God had blessed Wellington with so much to give, and he gave selflessly. Keith gave nothing. He didn’t give a damn about Keith’s wanting his money; he just wanted his father to love and accept him. Wellington chose to live his life like his stepfather, Christopher. Al
ways willing to give more than he received. Especially when it came to Jada, Darius, Junior, and Simone.
“The worst day of my life was when I walked out of Jada’s penthouse for the last time. You know why?” Wellington blinked repeatedly to wash away the tears before they could stream down his face. “It wasn’t because she was moving to L.A. It was because I thought I’d never see her again. And that shit hurt like hell. I cried long and hard. But the difference between a man and a woman is a man can’t let anyone see him shed tears. If so, he’s weak, a wimp, or a punk. So when she called and said she was pregnant, I said, ‘Yes! We’re going to have a baby.’ Jada Diamond was back in my life to stay. And if she confesses he’s not mine, I’m not going to abandon them. Just like I wouldn’t have left you if Junior wasn’t mine.”
“Bullshit and you know it. What the hell!” Simone threw her hands in the air. “Is her pussy dipped in platinum and trimmed in gold? I give up.” Simone rubbed her baby-oiled legs with both hands and sighed heavily.
“Let me do that for you,” Wellington offered as he placed Simone’s legs across his. Using his manicured fingers, he massaged Simone’s calves. Soft. Smooth. Freshly shaved. Wellington slipped off Simone’s yellow sling-back shoe and glided his fingertips through her toes. Simone had every right to be jealous. Wellington had never loved her the way he loved Jada. No woman who walked the face of the earth compared to Jada Diamond.
“I hope I find my soul mate soon so he can protect me like you protect her ass. My hat is off to you, Mr. Jones.” Simone saluted Wellington. “You are the first man I’ve met that honestly loves someone unconditionally.” Simone moved her legs, placed her foot inside her shoe, and stood. Wellington watched Simone’s ass shake from side to side like a seesaw as she walked into the playroom. She picked up Junior and his diaper bag, walked into the living room, and said, “Give your daddy a kiss goodbye.”
“Bye, Daddy. Bring me something back from your trip.” Junior kissed Wellington on the cheek.
“You know Daddy will.” Wellington returned his love, then whispered in Simone’s ear, “Bye, Simone. Thanks for listening. I love you, baby.” His lips pressed against her forehead; then he kissed Simone’s thick lips. He knew she’d keep her word and take care of him when he got back. Simone had no problem rotating, gyrating, or stretching during sex. The last time he made love to Jada had been right before he started dating Simone, hoping it would keep her from tying the knots in his stomach even tighter.
Initially, Wellington had subtle doubts about Darius, but he wasn’t alone. The thought crossed every man’s mind immediately after any woman said, “I’m pregnant.” Refusing to admit Simone was right, somehow deep down inside he felt he should have asked Jada about Darius, but every question Wellington had faded away when Darius slid out of Jada’s stomach covered in slime. Although he nearly fainted in the delivery room, he’d hung in there once he heard Dr. Watson pronounce, “It’s a boy!” Video taping Junior sliding out Simone’s uterus was also incredible. Wellington was shocked at how Simone’s vagina had stretched during delivery.
Darius’s birth had empowered Wellington. Those feelings returned when Junior was born. As he watched Junior grow up, Wellington noticed his and Junior’s baby pictures looked identical. Eyes. Nose. Ears. Seemingly Simone had only carried Junior for him. Wellington suspected Darius might not be his as the only features they shared were their complexions and physiques. Perhaps he was just being foolish since Simone brought up this nonsense, because often ladies would say, “Oh, he’s so cute. He looks just like his daddy. Yes, he does.” When they would reach for Darius’s cheeks, Wellington stopped them before they made contact.
Having a child together had helped Wellington and Jada trust each other again. Jada needed him, and the feelings were mutual. His stepfather, Christopher, had never reunited with his soul mate, Sarah. It was too late. Sarah had made her transition before Christopher divorced Cynthia. Wellington prayed he’d have his time on earth with Jada before they faced the same inevitable fate: death.
Chapter 16
Ginger. Miranda. Heather. Zen. Darius glimpsed at his counterparts seated around the rosewood conference table at Black Diamonds. Everyone must have forgotten today was his twentieth birthday, because he hadn’t received any gifts or acknowledgements. After a disappointing freshman year at GT, the option of earning six figures to work full-time for his mother was irresistible. Plus every time he mentioned giving GT another shot, his mother suggested he stay close to home and help her run their company. Dropping out of college completely was unacceptable, so he promised his parents he’d enroll at UCLA. Instantaneously, Darius found his entrepreneurial passion, so formal education would have to wait, at least until his fiancée, Maxine, received her bachelor of arts degree next semester. The two of them at the same university at the same time would definitely cramp his style.
Darius desperately wanted to run the business, and his mom supported him; but Wellington insisted he wasn’t ready, saying, “Son, you’re brilliant. You have the capability to run the company, and when that time comes, you’ll do well. You need more experience, and that can only happen with time.” How could his father have said that when he’d started Wellington Jones and Associates while he was in high school? And he’d never had any associates.
The fact that Darius was fucking four of the top-level executives in the room meant he was very mature. And as soon as his mother promoted him, he’d wean each of them off his chocolate dipstick.
Dreadlocks neatly grown in the pattern of a high top fade were long on top, but Darius shaved his scalp clean on both sides and the back. Then he meticulously twisted his locks and let a few dangle loosely to complement his twenty-four carat nickel-sized hoop earrings. An invisible line highlighted his manly jaws and squared his masculine chin. Lighter than his mother and slightly darker than his dad’s caramel complexion, Darius’s natural tan resulted from his newly discovered, cherished pastime, jet skiing. At six-foot-seven with a well-defined chest, roller coaster, rock-solid abs, and a slim waistline, Darius was quick to let brothers know he was an MSW—a man having sex with women—not an MSM. He didn’t care how many categories society created—down low, bisexual, in the closet—he was straight.
With his hands casually clasped across his stomach, Darius sarcastically said, “Zen, so you think one of your clients will win first place again this year?” His elbows rested on each arm as he relaxed in his chair. No matter where he chose to sit during a meeting, Zen religiously sat to his left. Out of twenty-seven women working for his mother, Zen was the primary person his mother relied upon whenever she had a management crisis.
Hunching her small shoulders, Zen said, “Um, you know me. I just do my best and dim sum.” Then she laughed. Zen’s short bob haircut covered her ears but didn’t touch her neck. Shaking her head, her hair whipped from her face to reveal her tight, slanted dark eyes. “A little extra goes a long way. Maybe you should try doing extra sometimes.” Zen grinned at Darius.
Yeah, like Zen’s thick black lashes with matching lines under her narrow lids. To hell with that; more wasn’t always better. Eventually, he’d be her boss, so he had to conserve his energy to keep her scintillating ass in check. Zen worked hard enough for everybody.
Positioned across from him, Ginger snickered.
“What about you, Darius?” Miranda asked, tugging the collar on her red power suit. “You’ve been working with us for two years, and none of your clients have made the top five.”
Right now Darius wished he could speak Spanish, because his words would slash through that Mickey Mouse blazer. Locking his fingers tighter, he answered, “They say the third time is a charm, and since I’m a charming mutherfucker, I’d safely say I’m taking the number one spot this year.” Darius propped over the table and stared directly at Miranda.
Heather jumped in, “The only reason you’re here is because of your mommy.”
The white girl always slipped in her remark. Heather claimed it kept everyone
in the dark about their affair. Over the last year she’d shortened her hair and dyed it blond. A few wrinkles had sprouted above her lips like whiskers, and they weren’t sexy. Darius remembered when his mother first hired Heather. Her brunette hair, catlike gray eyes, and really soft legs had landed him in her office since he was five years old. While she hadn’t lost her figure, the firm texture of Heather’s skin had loosened, and age spots had started filling the gaps.
“Your peeps invented the system. I’m perfecting it. And do not forget”—Darius plucked a paper football in Heather’s direction—“they stole this country, after they were ostracized from their homelands.” Between the oohs and ahs, Darius held his hands in the air like the extra point was good. “What we need in this firm is more men. You know you can’t expect a woman to do a man’s job and do it well.” Twenty-seven women in the company and the only four he was fucking happened to be at his level. Or was he on their level? It didn’t matter. But what concerned him the most was he was the only man working at his mother’s company.
Entering the room, Jada asked, “What was that I heard you say, Darius?”
Jada’s tailor-made black pantsuit was tapered to her hourglass figure. Her hair was slicked back and neatly tied into a bun with two handcrafted oriental sticks poking through. His mother had talked about cutting her hair for years, but couldn’t convince herself to do it. His father claimed he preferred it long. Since she was married to Lawrence, Darius didn’t understand why Wellington’s opinion mattered. Darius smiled. His mother’s scheduled exercises four times a week kept her finer than some women his age. She also treated her masseuse to the pleasure of giving her a full-body massage every Monday morning at six o’clock, believing if she started the week out right, the projected ending would follow suit.
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