She nonchalantly moved her knight one rank up and two files left and captured Griff’s pawn. Her move prompted Griffin to move his bishop diagonally to the right and land in striking distance of her king.
“Check,” he announced, the thrill of his impending kill gleaming in his eyes. She acted out the requisite dismay, took a long sip of her Cabernet Sauvignon, and continued to stare at the board while her mind raced ahead.
It was amazing how drastically different her social life had become. Instead of the usual club-hopping at the hippest, hottest spots in the city, or eating fine food at all the most expensive restaurants in town, she and Griffin had partied on the low-key. She’d been to poetry clubs to hear him read, house parties with his theater buddies, and had pulled into every Caribbean and Ethiopian restaurant within a subway ride distance.
Candy had to admit that despite her current boredom, in many ways playing house with Griff had been heavenly. There was a certain indescribable bliss associated with coming home every night to his waiting arms. Her current case was in full litigation, and realizing that at the end of a tough day Griffin would be home to massage her shoulders and sooth her jagged nerves was a pleasure she’d never known, but had quickly grown accustomed to. And although Candy enjoyed the idea of having her own man for a change, she was unable to shake the negative feelings about her irregular home life.
Perhaps she’d been a bit hasty in extending her invitation to Griffin to move in with her. Candace hadn’t anticipated the irritation and humiliation that would come with assuming the role of primary breadwinner. They lived very well on her salary, and while she may bring home the bacon, Griffin was the one who fried it up in the pan. It had been Griffin’s idea to save money by firing the cleaning lady. In fact, he did a better job of tidying the place than Sonia had. Griff kept the house running smoothly—toilet paper on the roll, pantry stocked at all times, and the laundry washed and folded to perfection. He took care of the cooking, cleaning, and lovemaking with a flawlessness that appeared effortless. All things considered, Griffin was the perfect wife. And that was the problem.
Candace just couldn’t get with the concept of supporting a househusband. She knew that he was not some lowlife, trifling Negro using and abusing her, but despite that fact, their reversal of roles disturbed her. Years down the road Candy could picture him playing Mr. Mom to their kids while she went off to the office, and she found the vision appalling.
The irony of the entire situation was that she and Griffin enjoyed a good life together. They lived comfortably and amicably just like two people in love ought to. Candace had everything she thought she always wanted, and yet it was still not enough—not when she was the one responsible for bankrolling their paradise.
In all fairness, Griffin was trying to get his career going. The play had closed to rave reviews for his performance, and a flurry of phone calls ensued, none of which had yet turned into a full-time paying job. He’d done one minor appearance on Law & Order, and was constantly out on casting calls for various projects. His agent was furiously working on getting him auditions, but nothing had come to fruition. Through all this, Griffin remained positive about his future and concerned about his present. He had suggested taking a job as a waiter for his friend’s catering business, but Candy’s ego wasn’t having it. How could she explain to her friends and business associates that her man was a will-work-for-tips snack jockey? Hell, no, she had her standards.
At the sound of Griffin’s throaty prompt, Candace cleared her mind and tried to concentrate on the game. Defeated by her own inattention, she soon realized that she had no way to rescue her king. Immediately Griff swooped in, gleefully exclaiming, “Checkmate.”
Glad to be done with this tedious exercise, she threw herself back on the couch and expelled a huge sigh.
“So out with it,” Griffin said.
“Out with what?”
“What’s wrong? You’ve been moody as hell lately. What’s bothering you?”
I want a man with his own money, she screamed in silence. I’m supposed to be the queen of the castle, the pampered housewife, just like Frank’s wife. Frank once again popped into her head, just as he did several times a day since they’d recently met for a drink. She’d been too curious and too eager to flaunt her new relationship in his face to say no, but now Candace could not get him or his invitation to accompany him to Palm Springs off her mind. Candace was aching to go on vacation, but they couldn’t afford it. Correction, she could afford it, but Griff could not and his male ego would not allow her to pay his way. And honestly she didn’t feel like shelling out another grand or so just to get him there and then have to spend even more for his food and recreation. She could not deny that she missed Frank and, in particular, the good times he provided.
“I’m just tired. Baby, I need to get away. This case is kicking my ass and I desperately need some R&R,” she answered.
“That’s all that’s bothering you? There’s an easy remedy for that. Go.”
“But you said you wouldn’t let me pay for you.”
“No, I won’t, but that shouldn’t stop you from taking some well-deserved time off.”
“You don’t care if I go alone or with a friend?”
“Why should I? It’s your money and your life.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll be here doing my thing.” Griffin started to tell her how one of the actors originally cast in Lexis Richards’s film had backed out at last minute, and now the director was giving Griff a second look. Instead he stayed with his plan to wait and surprise her with the good news if and when the part came through. “Now let me get dinner on,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.
Candace sat back, confused by the uncomfortable tug-of-war taking place inside her body. She was feeling both appreciative and angry. Griff understood her need for independence and wasn’t interested in standing in the way of her needs—professional or personal. At the same time, here she finally had a full-time man and she still had to go on vacation alone? Shit, she might as well go with Frank to Palm Springs. What was the goddamn point of being tied down to a brother who couldn’t support her or her desired lifestyle? Especially when she had one who could.
Maybe his wealth is measured in the way he loves and respects you, an inner voice remarked. So damn what? she argued back, quickly muting the voice of compassionate reasoning. Griffin Bell may be a great guy and rich in all the ways she was poor, but instead of completing Candace, it pissed her the fuck off.
She angrily threw herself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, fully intending to replace her pent-up anger and frustration with some hot and nasty, spontaneous sex. Thank God fucking is free, she thought, or we wouldn’t have any fun.
“Feelin’ better?”
“Shut up,” Candace commanded softly as she pulled Griffin away from the refrigerator and started to unbutton his pants.
As Candace began to ravish Griff’s body, she suddenly saw the absolute necessity of having both men in her life. One to love her and one to spoil her. And until either Frank or Griffin could take care of all her needs, together they made her perfect man.
Melanie sat at the dining room table sorting fabric swatches and thinking about Will. The light from the chandelier caught the diamond on her hand, sending up a sparkly spray of light. She admired the fiery twinkle of her friendship ring, enjoying everything it represented at this time.
Her thoughts were halted by the sound of the door buzzer. It was the doorman informing her that there was a package for her at the front desk. Mel took the elevator down and returned to her apartment several moments later carrying a Federal Express box.
She yanked the tab on the container and pulled out a smaller gift-wrapped box. She stripped away the shiny green paper and tissue paper to find a letter nestled among gardenia-scented potpourri. She inhaled the fragrant scent of her favorite flower before unfolding the masculine gray-colored stationery covered top to bottom with Will’s bol
d handwriting.
Hi Baby,
I have been thinking about you in “that” way much more than I should admit. Thinking what it would be like to make love to you. Wondering how it must feel to have your naked body stretched next to mine. To feel my hands in your hair and see the desire in your eyes right before we give in to the inevitable.
There are so many things I want in life right now, Melanie. And at the top of that list is you. I want to whisper your sweet name in your ear before making a meal of your lobe. I want to memorize your face with my lips and introduce my tongue to every sensuous curve of your body. I want to feel your breasts crushed against my chest and hear that faint and exquisite rush of breath as I enter you.
I know that we decided not to make love until we were married (back then it seemed like a good idea) and now we’re waiting to see what becomes of us. But each time our lips touch or I hold you, denying my needs becomes more difficult. Kissing you, baby, is like sipping from the Black Sea. The more I drink, the thirstier I become.
I will try to wait patiently for the right time between us. Until then, I want you to tell me your thoughts, your fantasies, your fears, so that when we do make love, I am loving every idea and desire that makes you so uniquely, so beautifully, so lusciously you.
I, Will, love you always
Reading his sexy and amorous letter completed Mel’s hormonal meltdown. His lovely declaration painted erotic pictures in her head, magnetically pulling her into a fantasy world. Her body wanted what he wanted, but until they could be together, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
“Hmmm,” Melanie purred softly. Will, can you imagine me…`loving me…`thinking of you? she thought, employing mental telepathy to send her message. Melanie closed her eyes and, using his words and her hands, swiftly brought herself to climax.
Mel lay back, eyes closed, luxuriating in the wake of Will’s words. As her breath resumed its normal pattern, she came to a pleasant revelation. Her smile got wider, eventually bursting open and releasing gales of happy laughter as her instinct confirmed her heart. The decision was finally made, and yet it felt like she’d known it all along.
She reached for the phone and quickly dialed Will’s number. His hello, spoken in a smooth buttery timbre that was seductive and inviting, melted over her body, sugarcoating her resolve.
“I got your beautiful letter,” Mel purred softly. “It was, shall I say, ‘inspiring,’ and the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more touched. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Will replied, happy his gesture pleased her.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something, but have been a bit reluctant because I didn’t want you to think—”
“Baby, you can ask me anything. You know that.”
“Well, it’s about the ring,” Mel began. “I’d rather do this in person, but I can’t continue to wear this another day….”
Will took a deep, silent breath of defeat, sure that Melanie wanted to return the diamond yet again.
“It’s really too tight for my right hand, so I was wondering if you’d mind me wearing it on my left.”
“Melanie, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If you think I’m saying that I want to marry you, then yes, I’m saying what you think I’m saying,” she said with a happy giggle.
Will held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pumped his hands in the air, a sign of both gratitude and glee. He felt breathless and full as sheer joy consumed his body. The marathon was over and he finally could claim his cherished trophy.
“Oh, baby, you don’t know how long I have waited to hear those words.”
“I do love you, Will. I always have, even though I’ve given you plenty of reason to doubt it.”
“So when? Let’s set a date right now. We’ll do it however and whenever your heart desires.”
Melanie paused. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. The realization that she absolutely wanted to marry Will was still too new. She wasn’t ready to go beyond that decision. She wanted to continue to take things slow and easy. She still had a lot to work out in her head. The most difficult being how this would impact her relationship with John. On one hand, she didn’t really owe him a thing. On the other, she owed him everything. Her career. Her newly acquired sense of confidence and personal independence. Her willingness to commit to marriage. Until she sorted through and put their relationship into proper perspective, she was not comfortable setting a wedding date with Will.
“Baby, let’s just be engaged for a while. We’ll take this one step at a time. There’s no need to rush into anything. In fact, can we keep this between you and me? I’m not ready to tell my parents yet. You know how my mother is. Okay?”
No, it’s not okay. Will could feel that familiar sense of dread and uncertainty usurp his earlier feelings of delight. If Melanie was absolutely positive that she wanted to marry him, why was she so reluctant to set a date or share the news with her family? Who or what was holding her back from full commitment?
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Melanie said, as if reading his mind. “I just want to make sure we do it right this time. We have a lot of life decisions to make. Making wedding plans isn’t that urgent—at least not now.”
“Okay, we’ll take our time. As long as we love each other and are both committed to making things work, we’ll be fine,” Will replied with more gusto than he felt. Even though her words made perfect sense, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He’d been burned once. A second time would destroy him.
Chapter 22
Sharon slid the original version of Sabrina into the VCR, pushed PLAY, and sat back on the couch. John had just called from Belize, and Sharon was happily settling in for a marathon evening of classic romantic movies. She’d be elated, however, when the issues that were taking her husband away were settled and she and John could cozy up on the sofa together.
She truly missed him. There were changes in her husband that Sharon could only deem remarkable. Despite this latest business crisis in Belize, he seemed happier, more mellow and easygoing. He was even painting again, something he hadn’t done in years. Their sex life had picked up and there was a new vitality to their lovemaking. He was talking about his feelings and confiding in her more. And even though he still had reservations about her relationship with Amanda, he’d stopped trying to forbid their interaction.
Sharon pinned the change on work. John’s recent projects were turning out to be quite successful, and suddenly his entire life seemed revitalized. Whatever the catalyst, he was happier than he’d been in a long while and his happiness had rained down on their marriage.
Ignoring the multitude of previews and advertisements crossing the screen, Sharon’s eyes panned the room, staring at the empty spaces on the wall where paintings, now hanging in New York, once hung. She had to start packing up her things soon and eventually every area of her house would be dismantled. With the New York apartment having been totally decorated with new furnishings, only a few pieces from this house would be moved. The rest was being donated to charity. This unpleasant thought was certainly made more acceptable by the fact that she really did feel as if she and John were beginning a new, exciting life together.
The opening credits pulled Sharon’s attention away from her own situation and drew her into the lives of the megarich Larrabee brothers. She watched in rapt attention as the story progressed, pitting William Holden and Humphrey Bogart against each other as they both fell under the spell of Audrey Hepburn’s many charms. Just as Sabrina realized she was falling for big brother Linus, Sharon was forced to pause the story and answer the door.
Expecting to see the Federal Express man with his usual delivery of blueprints and paperwork for John, Sharon was shocked to find a very agitated Amanda on her front doorstep. She stood, dressed in her favorite baggy overalls, her face bloated with previously cried tears.
“Amanda. Honey, this i
s a surprise. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry to come without telling you, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” the girl said as she tried to fight back the tears.
“It’s okay. Come in and tell me what’s going on.” Sharon stepped aside to let Amanda in and then followed the teenager into the house. “Let’s go in here,” she said, pointing her toward the family room.
“Is your husband here?”
“No. He’s out of town. It’s just us, so we can talk freely.”
“Sharon, I don’t know what to do.”
“Do about what, Amanda?” Sharon asked, her concern growing.
“It only happened once…`I didn’t think…”
“Honey, slow down. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m pregnant,” Amanda blurted out before breaking into tears.
Shock sent Sharon into temporary paralysis. Driven by the force of Amanda’s wails, she forced her body to move and gathered Mandy up into her arms. Sharon rocked the young woman against her breast and allowed her to expel her tears. As Amanda sobbed wildly, Sharon, in a rush of maternal love, tried to sort out the situation in her head, wanting desperately to find a way to help the girl through this difficult situation.
As the intensity of Amanda’s sobs began to subside, she asked, “How far along are you?” The memory of Amanda’s nausea and vomiting at Christmas had Sharon counting the months.
“About seven months, I think. At least that’s how many periods I’ve missed.”
“Seven months? Amanda, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Sharon asked, mentally eliminating one option from her list of possible solutions. How had she missed the signs? Granted, Mandy was always wearing those baggy hip-hop clothes, but shouldn’t she have noticed something?
“I didn’t know. I didn’t even suspect until after my fourth month. My periods have always been irregular.”
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