A mother’s work was never done. Didn’t matter if her child was ten, twenty, thirty, forty, or older, a mother always cared. Regardless of whether her child was single, married, divorced, a clergyman, a convict, or a loner. A mother’s undying love for her child was unconditional.
Jada sat at the breakfast table sipping hot coffee with hazelnut and cream. The Los Angeles Times was spread flat and wide across the onyx tabletop. Scanning the unemployment section for Darius, Jada said, “There is no way my baby is going to find a suitable job through these advertisements. I’m going to have to call in a few favors from some of my top clients.”
Retrieving her cell phone, Jada dialed the cellular number for the manager of her Bank of America branch. Waiting for him to answer, Jada refreshed her coffee.
“Good morning, Mr. Riley. This is Jada Diamond Tanner.” Jada always emphasized her middle name because it was a direct link to her business.
“Yes, of course. Good, morning. My accountant did send the check for our last contact, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. I need your assistance. My son Darius needs a job for a few months until he starts college.”
“It’s good to let these youngsters work for someone else. I made all four of my children get intern positions while they were in college.”
“Oh, but Darius needs a paid position. Darius’s father wants him to earn and live off of his own money.”
Laughing, Mr. Riley said, “That Wellington Jones certainly understands investments. That’s why I keep my investments through him. Jada, consider it done. I can use Darius in my office immediately. Have him call me early tomorrow morning.”
Feeling relieved, Jada turned to the world news section. What a tragedy. The death toll had climbed unbelievably. Over two hundred thousand people killed in a tsunami. Jada scribbled a reminder to send money to the forgotten people suffering in Rwanda.
Reversing her thoughts to her son, why had Darius grown up without any true friends? And the friendships Darius had acquired, they hadn’t lasted. Was it because he was an only child? Jada had ensured Darius always had the best tutors and played basketball since second grade, but she hadn’t encouraged him to develop friendships. Was she so busy juggling her life, her marriage to Lawrence, her business, and her affair with Wellington that she’d neglected to spend quality time with her son, making sure all of his needs were met? Educationally. Physically. Socially. Emotionally. When Darius didn’t have Ma Dear, he had baby-sitters. But Darius never had friends.
Jada flipped to the sports section. As a teenager in high school, Darius was closest to K’Nine. Even when Darius went to Georgetown and K’Nine went to the University of Maryland at College Park, they partied together whenever possible. After K’Nine’s sophomore year, when he was drafted into the NBA, Darius distanced himself when K’Nine became friends with his Atlanta teammates. Jada sensed Darius was jealous of K’Nine so she offered him the executive vice president position at her company in L.A. Offering Darius that job proved to be a mistake, but it allowed Jada to separate Darius from his father and head coach, Darryl Williams, Sr.
Eventually Darius had to know his real father but Jada didn’t want him to find out accidentally. What if K’Nine and Darius had both gone to the pros at the same time? What if Darryl Senior really delivered on his promise and got Darius into the NBA?
Switching to the local section, Jada thought about the day she gave birth to Darius. Wellington was at the hospital with her, not Darryl. Wellington cut Darius’s umbilical cord. Slept at the hospital every night with them. Even when Wellington’s son’s mother Simone questioned Wellington, saying, “Are you sure Darius is your son? He looks nothing like you,” Wellington never asked Jada. Later Wellington confessed his suspicions about being Darius’s father, but said, “I was so happy being a part of your life again, I guess I didn’t want to know the truth.”
Darius was five years old when Wellington doubted the paternity. Over the years, Jada and Wellington had raised Darius together. And Jada would be lying if she said she cared about Wellington the second as much as she did her own son. She’d seen the same change in Wellington when his look-alike, Wellington the II was born. For twenty years Wellington was Darius’s father. Lawrence, for ten of those twenty, was more of a surrogate dad. And Darryl Senior. for the last two plus years was finally raising Darius.
Wellington was always there for them. Through Jada’s ten years of marriage, Wellington was the disciplinarian for Darius. Wellington flew back and forth on short notice whenever Darius was sick, and to attend his games, and to see Darius off to college.
Perusing the entertainment section, Jada imagined what her life would be like if she’d married Darryl Senior instead of Wellington. Instead of Lawrence. Life was full of what ifs. But the one thing Jada was certain of was that she wasn’t going to be forced to choose between her child and her husband. Because that conclusion was drawn the day she became pregnant. No man would ever come before her child. Her son was her responsibility and no man could force her to abandon her son, not even her husband. But had she in some way abandoned Darius?
Glancing over the obituaries to see if any of her clients or anyone else she knew had died recently, Jada pushed her Georgetown coffee mug aside. Darius wasn’t perfect. Neither was she. Jada had her share of skeletons, disappointments, and deception. Lying to Lawrence when they were married about not having sex with Wellington. Well, maybe she hadn’t lied, because during the intimate moments she’d shared with Wellington they were making love, not having sex. She could use countless explanations to justify her past but that wouldn’t change all the lies she’d told.
One consistent truth was, from the night they’d met at Will Downing’s concert, Jada’s heart was always with Wellington. Even when he called off their engagement and married Melanie Marie Thompson, Jada was still in love with Wellington. Wellington married Melanie because Melanie had gotten pregnant by him and Wellington, being a man of great character, wanted to make an honest woman out of Melanie, as if that were possible. Melanie’s expected triplets and Wellington’s evil mother, Cynthia, who never liked Jada, sabotaged their engagement.
What if Cynthia had never interfered in their relationship? What if Cynthia hadn’t lied to Wellington over thirty-five years about his biological father? What if Jada’s baby would’ve been for Wellington? What if?
Jada tossed the newspaper into its recycle rack. Her personal life was in shambles. When was Darius going to stop avoiding giving Wellington that check? More than anything, Jada simply missed and wanted to see her child.
Having to choose between being loyal to her husband or supportive of her only child was ridiculous. Jada went upstairs to their bedroom. How could she please both? Darius was spoiled and it was her fault, giving her child more than even he imagined. But why not? She was wealthy and, well, he was her only liability. Jada sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Wellington.
Selecting a tie from his rack, Wellington asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Wellington, we can’t just cut Darius’s finances off leaving him destitute. He’s grieving over his brother’s death, for goodness sake, and he is trying to get his life together.” Jada watched her husband loop his necktie several times. She could’ve done it for him but she was too emotional not to intentionally choke Wellington.
“Jada, when are you going to let Darius grow up? He needs to learn responsibility. I’m tired of his carelessness and inconsideration for others. Three babies, Jada. Darius has three women pregnant. It’s best that he doesn’t have our money. And he’d better get a job by the end of this week or he’ll be homeless.”
“Not my son, Wellington Jones. As long as there’s breath in my body and a roof over my head, Darius will never live on the streets.”
“I’m done with this conversation. You act like you’re the only one who raised Darius.”
“I never said that.”
“I didn’t say you did. You don’t have t
o. After all I’ve done for you. For Darius—” The doorbell rang, interrupting Wellington’s response. Wellington and Jada looked at one another.
“Are you—”
Interrupting Jada, Wellington asked, “No, you?”
“No,” Jada said, slipping her partially naked body into a black silk robe. She followed Wellington downstairs.
When Wellington opened the door, there stood Jada’s baby. Darius’s face was long like a child who’d just discovered there was no Santa, with his mouth closed, his chin hung low. His eyes were red and watery.
Welcoming Darius into her arms, Jada said, “Honey, come in. Are you okay?”
Darius leaned into his mother’s bosom. “Naw, Ma. I was disappointed you didn’t attend the funeral yesterday.”
Pushing Darius back, Jada said, “Baby, I didn’t know Darryl Junior that well.”
“But you do know me, Ma. I expected you to be there for me.”
Wellington interjected, “There you go again, thinking your mother owes you something. Sit down in the living room.” Wellington left then returned with the insurance check. Wellington handed the check to Darius and said, “Sign this so we can get the business back up and running before the release of Soul Mates Dissipate.”
Joining Darius in the living room, Jada said, “It’s okay, honey. It’s not that serious. Just sign the check and we can deal with the rest later.”
“That’s my business and those are my films. I ain’t signing shit!”
“Wellington, he does have a valid point. We gave Darius his own company. Why don’t we discuss this business arrangement now and you can explain to Darius the details?”
Wellington countered, “There’s nothing to discuss.”
Darius remained silent, staring at Wellington.
“I disagree. Wellington, I think we as a family should discuss why you felt the need to take over Darius’s company.”
“Because Darius screws everything he gets his hands on, that’s why. When he gets his life in order, if he ever gets his life in order, he can have his company back. End of conversation.” Wellington stared back at Darius and said, “I’m glad my son is nothing like you.”
Jada shouted, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
Darius leapt from the sofa and two inches from Wellington’s face. “Fuck you! And your son!”
Wellington’s fist landed in Darius’s chest. “Who the hell you think you’re disrespecting? Yeah, that’s right. Stand up again so I can knock your sorry ass back down.”
“Wellington, if you hit my son again I swear I’ll hurt you!”
“Your son?! Your fuckin’ son! That’s right!”
Drawing back a fist, Darius yelled, “That’s right!”
Wellington cocked his fist in midair.
Standing between Darius and Wellington, Jada screamed, “You two cut it out!” Breathing heavy, she placed her palms on their chests, then pleaded, “Darius honey, just sign the check.”
Darius snatched the check from Wellington’s grip, scribbled across the back, then threw it on the table.
“There, you satisfied? Everybody’s happy now.”
“Honey, everything will be all right.” Jada wrapped her arms tight around Darius’s shoulders. “You did the right thing.”
Wellington picked up the endorsed check.
Darius protested, “I need some of that money, Ma. My bank account is low.”
“Then you’d better get off your ass and get a job,” Wellington said, leaving the room. He yelled from the foyer, “I’m going to the bank, then to meet with my client. I have a late appointment,” then closed the door.
Massaging his chest, Darius said, “Ha, client, yeah, right. I bet that appointment will run after midnight, too.”
Frowning, Jada sat next to Darius on the sofa and quizzically asked, “Honey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, Mama. I need a half mil until school starts.”
Shaking her head, Jada said, “I can’t right now, honey, your father will get upset. But I’ll see what I can do next month after Wellington calms down. Okay? But I do have some good news. I got you a job at a bank. You can start tomorrow.” Jada reached for Darius’s hands.
Avoiding her touch, silently Darius stood, exited the room, and then slammed the front door.
Jada desperately wanted to give Darius the money but maybe Wellington was right. Maybe it was time for her to let Darius grow up.
CHAPTER 8
Real Estate Finance was more challenging than Fancy had anticipated, particularly remembering all the intricate details between a fixed rate and an adjustable rate mortgage (ARM). Fixed interest rates remained the same for fifteen, twenty, or thirty years with no prepayment penalty. Adjustable rates fluctuated for the first one to seven years based on prime rates, but the initial rate for an ARM was below market as opposed to fixed rates, giving the homeowner initially lower payments. Then there were the conversions and assumptions only applicable to ARMs. The no-money-down programs, balloon payments, silent second mortgages, owner financed mortgages, the mortgage money market, sources for supply and demand for financing, loan processing, the primary lenders’ right to sale of the mortgage in a pool of loans to another lender in the secondary market immediately after closing, because most primary lenders didn’t service mortgages, and so much more. And all that information was disseminated in one class, leaving her to take four more required courses and three electives.
Pressing her middle finger against her temple, Fancy arrived a few minutes early to class and drove into the asphalt parking lot that was perpendicular to the street. “I have a newfound respect for brokers.” The only remaining spaces were in the rear, behind the building. Sitting in her car, Fancy speed dialed Darius’s number.
Darius delightfully answered, “Hey, Ladycat. What’s up?”
“On my way to class. I just called to hear your voice and let you know I was thinking about you.” A half smile brightened Fancy’s spirit.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. You want to hang . . . I mean get together after your class?” Darius asked.
“You’re in Oakland? I thought you were in L.A.”
“Yeah, I had to get away from my parents. They were truly stressing me the hell out.”
“Well, class ends around eight. Meet me at my house at nine-thirty. ’Bye, Darius.”
Fancy hung up the phone and dialed Caroline’s number hoping her mother’s voice mail would respond on the fourth ring so Fancy could leave a brief message.
“Hi, Fancy,” her mother cheerfully answered on the first ring.
Fancy shouldn’t have called. Why did she torture herself by trying to foster a relationship with her mother? Hesitantly Fancy replied, “Hi, Mom.” Calling Caroline “Mom” felt awkward and Fancy wasn’t sure how long she’d wait before reverting back to using her mother’s name, because Caroline hadn’t changed. With nothing better to say, Fancy asked, “How was your day?”
“Wonderful!” Caroline shouted. “Marvin is taking me to Rubicon’s in San Francisco for dinner tonight. You’ve been so many places, Fancy. Have you been there?”
A man didn’t have to do much to impress Caroline. A movie, a meal, or a drink at a bar, were more than sufficient to convince Caroline to open her legs. But Marvin was better than the blue-collar workers Caroline customarily dated. Fancy had courted enough rich men to know that Marvin was too wealthy, too attractive, and too sophisticated to be genuinely interested in her overweight out-of-shape mother, who would rather spend over four dollars a day on a Venti Caramel Frappuccino at Starbucks than pay three dollars a day or less for a membership at a decent gym.
Caroline shouldn’t get her expectations up too high with this Marvin guy because he couldn’t possibly love Caroline. But from what Fancy had heard, Marvin, like all the rest of Caroline’s men, was certainly enjoying how good Caroline sucked his gigantic dick.
Casually, Fancy replied, “No, I haven’t been to Rubicon’s.”
“Really? You mean I’m going to a place you haven’t been? I promise to tell you all about my date with Marvin tomorrow.
Rolling her eyes, Fancy exhaled.
Caroline continued, “I really snagged a winner with Marvin. I love him so much. I think he’s going to ask me to marry him.”
Hardly, Fancy thought, replying, “I’ve heard good things about Rubicon’s but Roxanne’s in Larkspur is better and more expensive. Ma, be careful. Have you asked Marvin what he sees in you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you jealous of me, Fancy? You think I can’t date a man with money like you. You’re the only one good enough to date a Byron or a Harry or an Adam or this new rich guy you’ve met, Darius.”
Gee, thanks for bringing up old memories, Fancy thought as she said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” If Caroline knew how Byron and Harry had abused her, Caroline would rejoice believing Fancy’s men were just like hers, and that was a lie. Fancy’s standards were definitely above her mother’s.
“I don’t have any reason to be jealous of you. I’ve dated lots of wealthy men and I just know how they are, that’s all. They spend very little on women who readily sleep with them and lots of money on good-looking women who demand quality goods and services.”
“Well, you don’t know anything about my Marvin.”
Not true but not worth disclosing. “Ma, you met Marvin at a bar. And you haven’t known him that long.”
“So, he stopped in to have a drink. I served him well. Later that night he served me very well.”
“That’s what I mean. He’s using you.”
“Fancy, sometimes I want to be used. I’m not getting any younger and I’m not trying to save myself. Every woman is either using or being used, including you. The difference is I don’t care. Marvin makes me happy. I love him. I. Love. Me. Some. Marvin. And I’m going to have a good time tonight. Oh, yeah. What fork should I use first?”
What fork? Caroline should learn to love herself. She probably didn’t know Marvin’s middle name, his parents, or where he lived. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just do whatever Marvin does. That’ll make him happy. Well, have a good time. I’ve gotta get to class.”
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