Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This

by Mary B. Morrison

  Tucking her hair behind her ear, Fancy objected, “What about the checks and credit cards? Are those my fault, too, Darius?”

  Darius shook his head, but Fancy couldn’t determine if he was agreeing it wasn’t her fault or disagreeing like he didn’t understand. “No. But seriously, I am innocent of all those charges. I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about or trying to prove, but not me. Propaganda is a muthafucka and the information in the paper was all wrong. I ain’t gon’ be just another brotha to put in the system. I didn’t do shit.”

  When Fancy opened her arms to console Darius, he pushed her biceps down and away from him. Tears welled in Fancy’s eyes so she fluttered her eyelids. “I haven’t been back at my house since the shooting. But I did get a copy of Thaddeus’s autopsy and death certificate. Thaddeus was terminally ill. You shot him but you didn’t kill him. His real cause of death was cancer. The doctors said Thaddeus knew he only had a month to live. I guess that’s why he didn’t care about killing me. But if my mother would’ve loved me, I would’ve never lied on Thaddeus when I was a little girl. Darius, I told the police Thaddeus raped me. I didn’t know he was going to have to serve ten years in prison. But once I’d lied I didn’t know how to tell the truth without the police locking me up for perjury. I just wanted them to take Thaddeus away from our house and never let him come back.”

  Darius’s arms shot toward heaven the same way Caroline’s had when Fancy had told her the truth. Didn’t anyone understand Fancy’s position?

  “You did what? Get out of my face! I don’t ever want to see you again. If you had your own father arrested, there’s no telling what you’ll do to me. You probably had something to do with this fraud bullshit, too!”

  “I promise you, Darius, I don’t know anything about the fraud situation. I was a little girl,” Fancy cried, reaching out to Darius. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. Haven’t you ever been afraid?”

  Pushing her away again, Darius said, “But you were old enough to know right from wrong. You sent an innocent man to jail! For ten years! Now he’s dead! And I’m the one who—”

  “Killed him,” Fancy said, completing Darius’s sentence.

  Darius turned his back to Fancy then walked away.

  “Wait, Darius. Where are you going?” Fancy pleaded.

  “Home.”

  “Can I go with you? So we can talk.”

  “No. There’s nothing for us to discuss. I don’t ever want to see you again. And I’ll make sure I pay you back your bail money.”

  Fancy followed Darius outside.

  “Get out of my face, Fancy! You’re a liar!” Darius cried. “You’re just like all the rest!”

  CHAPTER 24

  Darius had lied to himself again. Fancy wasn’t like all the rest. Not even close. Never had he secretly shed so many tears for a woman, any woman, not even his mother. When Darius returned home from jail, he wanted Fancy to stay with him. But if she lied on Thaddeus, she’d really fucked up an innocent man’s life. How could Darius forgive Fancy? Was it his place to grant Fancy forgiveness? All Darius knew was that his heart ached, and his life wasn’t the same without Ladycat.

  Fortunately, luck had a way of saving his ass, and his nine lives must’ve been renewed. The day Darius was arrested and while Darius was in jail, three new credit cards were established in his name. The checking account in question was closed. And his half brother Kevin was arrested at a bank in Dallas and charged with numerous counts of fraud.

  Ashlee’s baby’s father was a proven thief. Darius wondered how Ashlee was feeling now that she’d become a single parent married to a convict. Better yet, how was Lawrence? That wasn’t his problem, but the fact that Darius still loved Ashlee created a dilemma. Should he pursue Fancy or make amends with Ashlee? Forget Ashlee. Darius wasn’t raising Kevin’s baby. Hell, he didn’t want to raise his own, and continued to pray that neither Ciara nor Desire were the mothers of his child. Children. Hopefully the results of his paternity test with Ciara and her son would be in the mail when he returned home for his basketball road trip to Oakland.

  Darryl Senior had used his connections to ensure Darius wasn’t transferred from IRC to another location before his hearing, and simultaneously Darryl had traced Kevin’s fictitious business, NyVek. As much as Darryl hated turning Kevin in, he’d said, “Son, I know God has good things in store for you. In your heart you want to do what’s right. Now’s your chance. You can never disappoint me. Just make sure you don’t disappoint Him.”

  Darius was happy and angry at the same time. Happy because all of the charges against him were dropped, including charges for the murder of Thaddeus, and because his scholarship was still intact. Darius apologized to his roommate Lance, his teammates, and coaches. Everyone except Fancy.

  Fancy gave an incredible creditable statement with documentation at his hearing about what actually happened. Darius was glad he had his gun on him that night or his basketball career would’ve ended, because there was no way he would have let Fancy take a bullet for him. But Darius was still amazed that Fancy had risked her life to save his. And she’d taken the first flight out of Oakland to bail him out of jail. Why couldn’t Darius return her love unconditionally? Darius had decided that if he found his lady, if it wasn’t too late, this time he’d legitimately try.

  The security cameras at Fancy’s condo had captured Thaddeus sneaking through the garage and up the back stairway with a black mask on, the same mask that was recovered as evidence from Fancy’s condo.

  The condo Fancy no longer lived in. That pissed Darius off. The fact that Fancy had moved without telling him. No new address. She’d changed all of her numbers. Darius didn’t know how to contact Fancy’s mother, Caroline. Last Darius had heard was from Mr. Cabie who’d said, “You didn’t hear this from me Mr. Williams, but Miss Taylor is living at in Oakland Hills. I’m only telling you because I know she misses you.”

  Fancy had bought a penthouse in Oakland Hills. Ironically the same penthouse unit Darius’s mother once owned. But when Darius questioned his mother, his mother wouldn’t discuss the details or give him Fancy’s new numbers. Darius couldn’t show up unannounced, and doubted the new doorman would let him go up to Fancy’s unit anyway.

  “This is bullshit,” Darius mumbled.

  Darius had to find out from Mr. Cabie when he’d stopped by to say hello, hoping to get a private dance from Fancy on her balcony, that Fancy was gone. Darius had guessed that throughout his legal ordeal, his mother and Fancy had become somewhat close. He had to warn Fancy not to trust his mother before something bad happened. Darius was certain that his mother had an ulterior motive for selling Fancy her condo. But what?

  “Hey, man. You all right?” Lance asked, nudging Darius.

  “Yeah, man. Just got a lot on my mind,” Darius answered, leaning his head against the emergency door window of the 757.

  “Hey, man. You makin’ me nervous. Let’s switch seats. You gon’ make this plane crash if you keep leaning on the exit like that.”

  Although they were close to landing at Oakland International Airport for UCLA’s game at Cal Berkeley, Darius didn’t argue. Darius wanted the aisle seat anyway. Propping the pillow behind his head, Darius stretched his legs. Damn, Darius missed Fancy. All they’d been through. Darius knew she wasn’t perfect, but neither was he. Who was Darius to judge her? That was the man upstair’s job. But as much as he loved Fancy, every time Darius saw her, he flashed, dwelling on the negativity. What was up with that?

  Lance interrupted his thoughts and asked, “Hey, man. Your girl coming to see you play tonight?”

  Slouching in his seat, Darius said, “Don’t know. Maybe.”

  Secretly Darius had hoped to see Fancy sitting courtside at his game, wearing the sexiest outfit in the gym, with no panties on, just for him.

  When the plane landed, Darius gathered his bags, rode quietly on the team’s chartered bus, and when they checked into the Claremont, Darius settled into his shared room wit
h Lance. Darius remembered how he’d treated Ciara to a complete spa package—massage, facial, pedicure, and manicure—at the Claremont spa, prepping her for their first lovemaking session. That’s how Darius had won Ciara over. Pampering her in every way. Lying across his bed, Darius wondered if he could ever win Fancy back.

  Darius picked up his cell phone and dialed zero-one hoping Fancy would answer.

  “Hi, Darius. You calling about Kevin?”

  “Kevin? Hell no, I’m not calling about no Kevin,” Darius said. Looking at his caller ID, Darius had dialed Ashlee’s number by mistake. He’d meant to dial one-zero.

  “Well, looks like he’s going to have to do some serious time. How did I ever get caught up in such mess with you and your brother?”

  “Just lucky, I guess. Or naïve. Look, I gotta make another call. I’ll call you back tomorrow.” Hearing Ashlee’s voice convinced him he was finally over Ashlee Anderson. Williams. Whatever her last name was now.

  “Wait. Darius, don’t you have someone to ask me about?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I was expecting a call from you sooner. I filed an annulment divorcing Kevin when I read the results of our paternity test.”

  “Ashlee, I have a big game and I don’t have time for your childish adventure. First you want me. Then you want Kevin. Now that you know what I tried to tell you all along, that Kevin was a thief, now you want me back. I’m over you, Ashlee. I’m in love with a beautiful woman.”

  Ashlee barely spoke above a whisper. “You don’t have to take my word. Read your test results. I was wrong about Kevin being the father. And just so you know, I changed our son’s name to Darius Jones, Junior, right before he passed away. He lived three weeks and two days. And your name is on his death certificate as our son’s father. ’Bye, Darius.” Ashlee hung up the phone.

  “Fuck!”

  The homeless woman’s words haunted Darius again: The son that is yours, soon after he’s born, he will die. So will your father. Next year. Death follows you.

  How could Ashlee drop some shit like that on him before a big game? And now that Darius had changed his name, his son—his dead son—had the wrong last name.

  “This is bullshit!” Darius threw his Rolex against the wall.

  “Hey, man. Save that aggravation for the Bears. Let’s go.”

  Lance was right. Darius’s son was dead and Darius had to hear that bullshit over the phone as though Ashlee was a damn journalist delivering some insignificant fucking news report, like the weather forecast or traffic conditions. His son was dead.

  “This is bullshit, Lance, man. Why do females do shit like this? They don’t think men have feelings, too? She just called and said my son died, man,” Darius cried.

  Lance’s eyes swelled with tears. “Big D, I’m so sorry man. I didn’t know you had a kid. Let’s take that shit out on Cal for real, man, ’cause you can’t bring back your son. But you can win this game for Lil’ D. I’ma feed your ass all night long, D, to keep this off your mind, man.”

  Darius’s inner tears were tears of anger. Hatred. Darius was ready to decapitate somebody. When the hosts announced his name and jersey number, twenty-three, Darius ran toward Cal’s coach, shook his hand, then dashed back toward his teammates. Darius stood there bouncing up and down on his toes, stretching his biceps. Halfway through warm-up Darius saw her—Fancy. He couldn’t believe she was seated courtside next to SaVoy. Regulations prohibited him from leaving the floor during warm-up and game time to socialize, so Darius nodded and grinned at Fancy. She smiled a ray of sunshine into his heart.

  Darius’s team was ahead by twelve points at the end of the first half; Darius scored twenty-three points. Seven free throws. Four dunks. Two fifteen-footers and two layups. Fancy cheered each time Darius scored. The second half, with Lance’s continuous help, Darius eerily scored the same twenty-three points the same way. The final score: UCLA, 82; Cal, 79.

  Before Darius could talk with Fancy, the reporters were in his face shoving microphones and asking questions.

  “Darius Williams, are you going pro after the season? How does it feel being back on the basketball court with a new name and an outstanding game? You’ve overcome some tremendous obstacles. Do you think you can take your team to the NCAA Championship?”

  Darius politically answered like Darryl had taught him. “Right now I’m just giving my all to the game and to my team. I live, eat, and breathe basketball. I feel back at home on the court. Yes, I have overcome some tremendous obstacles. If God is for me, then who can be against me? I’m going to do my part to get my team to the championship. But I couldn’t have played this well without my teammates. Especially Lance. Especially Lance. We’re winners. And winners never quit.”

  Looking in Fancy’s direction, Darius noticed his next-door neighbor Michael Baines in her face, grinning. Michael hugged Fancy as they walked away together with SaVoy trailing.

  “Excuse me,” Darius said to the reporter then ran across the court.

  “Fancy. You wanna get together and talk later on? I’ll be here until tomorrow morning.”

  “Sorry, Darius. I can’t. Michael and I have dinner plans with Mr. Riddle and a new client who’s interested in purchasing several apartment complexes. We can do breakfast, if you’d like.”

  “I thought Howard Kees was your broker.”

  “He is,” Fancy replied, partially turning away.

  With extra bass in his voice, Darius said, “I’ll call you later tonight.”

  “Okay,” Fancy said, pausing and kissing Darius’s cheek as though he was her brother and no longer her lover.

  Back in his hotel room, Darius lay in his bed and waited until midnight to call Fancy. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Darius.”

  “So what’s up?” Darius asked, throwing the covers off his flaming hot sweaty body. Darius was angry with Fancy. But her voice was so sweet and innocent.

  “Nothing much. Just missing you,” Fancy said.

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Here we go. It didn’t take long for your attitude to kick in. What did you hear?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Darius, stop trying to find a reason to be upset with me. What are you talking about? I don’t have time for this, baby. I have to meet a client in the morning for breakfast.”

  “Baby? Breakfast? A few hours ago we were going to breakfast.”

  “You didn’t confirm. And we need to finalize the client’s purchase offers. He’s buying four multifamily properties.”

  “So now I need to confirm. And don’t call me ‘baby.’ Do you call all those guys you’ve fucked baby, too? Maybe that’s why you won’t sleep with me anymore because you’re too damn busy opening your legs and selling your pussy to the highest bidder? You probably don’t even have any got damn real estate clients. I heard that’s just a front for your hookin’.”

  Sniff. Sniff. Darius heard Fancy’s sobs through the phone, confirming his beliefs.

  “Hookin’? Are you crazy? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

  “Does the name Harry Washington sound familiar? My boy Byron told me that Harry is putting out the word on the executive circuit that you’re a prostitute and a thief. Harry says he’s going to have you arrested for credit card theft.”

  Fancy became silent, then quietly said, “Darius, I never told you this, but Harry raped me.”

  “Oh, like Thaddeus raped you?”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Go! Go get your money on trick! I wouldn’t pay a dime to fuck your trifling ass!”

  “I hate you! I hate you, Darius Jones! Williams! I thought you were my friend. I thought you were different! But considering you’re a good-for-nothing bas—” Fancy paused. “No, I’m not going to stoop to your level,” Fancy said. “Congratulations, Darius. Good game.”

  What the fuck had gotten into Darius? That was the future Mrs. Williams and Darius was acting a damn fool because she�
��d played him in front of his teammates, and he had to hear that shit on the team bus all the way back to the Claremont. Lance was the only one who was cool. When they’d gotten back to their rooms, Lance called his mom and dad, showered, then went to bed before midnight.

  Darius picked up the phone and redialed Fancy’s number.

  “What, Darius? Haven’t you insulted me enough?”

  “Ladycat, I apologize. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Darius. But the conversation we just had has nothing to do with love. I have an important day tomorrow. Good night.” Ladycat hung up the phone.

  Well, at least she was still speaking to him. Certain Lance was pretending to be asleep, Darius’s roommate had already heard too much of his personal business. Darius realized being part of a team meant he’d have no personal business. Darius would give Fancy a call after he got back to his house in Los Angeles. And he’d better not run into Baines.

  CHAPTER 25

  Lying in her bed, watching the early sunset through the patio window, orange, yellow, and red hues layered the mountaintops beneath a cloudless sky. Tall evergreen trees swayed gently in the breeze. Fancy knew she’d forgive Darius for his harsh words. He didn’t mean what he’d said. Over the past years, Fancy had learned a lot from her sessions with Mandy. How to depersonalize situations, accept responsibility for her actions, and then stand in her own truth. Most men possessed an inept ability to communicate effectively with women, so instead of saying what they honestly felt, they’d psychologically devalue themselves, then mentally or physically abuse their woman or women. Once again, something weighed heavy on Darius’s mind but instead of telling Fancy, Darius held in his anger and misdirected his aggression toward her.

  Harry and Byron were partially to blame for Darius’s insecurities, not Fancy. Shallow men hid behind egos, money, expensive cars, nice homes, designer clothes, good looks, or whatever other attributes they believed magnetically attracted women to them. And when all those qualities failed, well, men disrespected and degraded other men and ultimately hashed out their frustrations on women. Innocent women.