IF I WERE YOUR WOMAN

by LaConnie Taylor-Jones

  Laney closed her eyes against the overwhelming surge of passion, pleasure, and victory. She wanted to feel the confidence of knowing she’d pleased her man. Yes, she was sore, but her indulgence far out-weighed the discomfort. She straddled him, and her tender flesh stretched as she took him in, inch by tantalizing inch. The feeling was so intense, she lifted herself off him again, and again, and again.

  “Red…” Ray fisted the sheets and sweat popped out on his forehead. Every time she slid down, she only took half of him. Somehow, he managed to get a glimpse of her face. God, she was pretty. She was concentrating on learning her own pleasure and it was all right by him. He received as much pleasure, if not more, watching her become acquainted with her own sexuality. Dear Jesus, please let her hurry…

  “Raphael,” she moaned. She braced her hands on his chest and rocked back and forth, increasing the rhythm until she felt the faint spark of release. A sob broke from her lips as she cried out, “Now?”

  “Drop it like it’s hot.” He released the sheets and grabbed her hips, surging upward and pushed himself to the hilt. When she clamped her inner muscles around him, he came on the first stroke, growling out his release until it was over, and she lay limply on top of him.

  Ray cradled her afterward, stroking her back. She lifted her head and smiled at him.

  He smiled back.

  And then Raphael Baptiste made love to Laney Houston.

  ~ ~ ~

  Friday afternoon after returning from the pre-op visit, Ray and Laney sat quietly on the front porch swing at Olivia. He put his arm around her and brought her closer, so that her head was nestled in the hollow of his neck. He lifted up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “Darling, is everything okay,” she asked.

  “Just thinking about the surgery. It’s two days away.”

  “I know.” Without lifting her head, she asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Sacred,” he replied honestly.

  “Are you scared of the surgery or learning the results of the surgery?”

  “Both,” Ray said quietly.

  For a moment, the only sound came from the creaking of the swing. Ray leaned and kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. The chemo was over, but had it worked? He was a man who had everything money could buy, but it couldn’t buy health. He reached down and picked a folder off the porch and handed it to Laney.

  After scanning the first page, Laney looked up at him. “This is your will.”

  “Just in case…everything I’ve got is yours.” He was silent for a long time. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me, mon ange,” he uttered in a hoarse, strangled voice. “Most women would’ve walked…”

  Laney wound her arms around his neck. Crying was something she seldom did. Suddenly, the enormity of what they’d gone through the last several months and the strain they’d faced together swept over her. Her chest tightened. She fought hard to keep her composure, but lost the battle. She released a wrenching sob and clung to him as her body shook from emotion.

  Ray was more than surprised by her tears. He was dumbfounded. His Laney was a fighter. She’d done for him what her grandmother had done for her. She’d poured everything she had into him and his battle against cancer. All he could do now was pray he’d won.

  Her tears pierced a hole in his heart. He didn’t try to stop her. She needed the release. Instead, he allowed his own tears to fall as he rubbed her back, whispering to her his thanks for all she’d done. It took a long time for her to regain her composure. With the tip of his finger, he tipped her chin up. Her eyelids were swollen, and she looked exhausted, but he’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. Passion glazed her eyes, making the heavy and slumberous. He leaned and kissed her with all the pent up desire he’d felt for her from the day he first laid eyes on her.

  “Raphael?”

  “Yeah, mon ange.”

  “When was the last time you prayed?”

  Until he was diagnosed with cancer, it was something he hadn’t done often enough. “Lately, I’ve been tying up the prayer line.”

  “You do know what your name means, don’t you?”

  Ray shook his head sideways. “No, you got me on that one. What does it mean?”

  Suddenly, a peace hugged her spirit and Laney knew her prayers had been answered. Finally, she whispered, “God has healed.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sunday morning, Ray quietly opened the church door and took a seat in the next to the last pew. This morning, he’d awaken and discovered an empty bed. He figured Laney had gone to church.

  His eyes connected with T. J. who’d spotted him first. Their gazes held and Ray smiled, slightly tipping his head forward. A crease settled in the middle of his forehead when T. J. glanced over the choir stand and beckoned Laney with his hand. What was that all about? The next thing he knew, Laney stood in front of the microphone next to the piano.

  He couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to. She was a vision to behold in the crisp, white choir robe. Everything about her was beautiful, elegant, and heart-stopping. The moment she spotted him, she smiled. It was as if a boulder had slammed into his chest, and he couldn’t breathe deep enough or fast enough. He’d come to hear the sermon, but saw an angel. His angel. He stared long and hard. Nothing mattered except Laney.

  “There is no sadness He cannot heal.”

  Electricity shot through the congregation, and they surged to their feet when Laney belted out the opening verse to the Yolanda Adams tune, The Battle Is Not Yours. It was almost sinful, he thought, for someone to have such a gilded voice. He wasn’t aware when he’d made his way up front. Before he knew it, he sat at the piano. He wasn’t sure he could play. Neuropathy, which was one of the side effects from chemo, had caused his hands to become painful and stiff.

  “No matter what you’re going through, remember God is only using you. The battle is not yours, it’s the Lord’s.”

  Ray listened intently to Laney while long, lean fingers brushed along the ivory keys until he zeroed in on the key she sang in.

  “C’mon, Red,” he whispered. “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” He never took his eyes off her. He used his entire body to bring forth the incredible sounds from the instrument he’d mastered. Occasionally, his shoulder hunched when he struck a particular chord, but never once did he glance at the keyboard. Although accompanist had never practiced with his soloist, their performance was flawless.

  And before the services ended, Ray joined church.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Mr. Lawson?”

  Monday morning, Ray lay on the gurney in the pre-op room and lifted his head. “Yeah.”

  Dr. Madhavi walked in and extended his hand. “I’ll be the anesthesiologist for your procedure today.”

  This morning around six, Ray checked into the hospital under the alias, Reginald Lawson to ensure his privacy.

  Ray extended his hand. “Morning, doc.”

  “Ready for a little happy juice?” Dr. Madhavi asked.

  What if the chemo hadn’t work, Ray thought. Oh well, he’d prayed about it and it was out of his hands. He’d find out soon enough. He sucked in a big gulp of air in order to hide his nervousness. Unlike the first surgery, he was mentally and emotionally prepared. “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Moments after Dr. Madhavi inserted the tip of a syringe needle in the IV attached on Ray’s hand, he yawned. A tranquil sensation washed over him as he slurred, “Red…”

  “I’m right here, darling,” Laney whispered.

  Ray flashed a sleepy half-grin. He blinked once, twice. His eyes drifted shut and he slowly surrendered to the world of unconsciousness.

  ~ ~ ~

  Three days later, Ray awakened to the touch of Laney lightly stroking his arm. “Red.”

  “I’m right here, darling,” Laney whispered.

  Ray focused hard at the blurry images next to Laney. “Mon frère? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, buddy, it’s me
,” Alex said. “Nicki’s here, too.”

  Nicki stood next to Alex. She reached out and gathered Ray’s hand inside of hers. “Raphael, how are you feeling?”

  Ray hoarsely muttered a string of oaths in French.

  Nicki’s gaze volleyed between Laney and Alex.

  Both answered in unison. “You don’t want to know.”

  Nicki chuckled. “Raphael, M’Dear, daddy, Aunt Dorothy, and Jewel send their love.”

  Ray smiled. “Tell ‘em I’ll be home soon.”

  The light rap at the door caught everyone’s attention. JoJo, Henry, Spooky, Double A and Mack filed into the private room and joined Ray’s entire family, filling it to capacity.

  Ray grimaced from the pain, which made it difficult to talk. Reaching for Laney’s hand, he gently squeezed it and held her eyes.

  “It’s over, it’s over,” she murmured. The past seventy-two hours were a blur even for her. He’d slept most of the time from the dosages of medication he’d received and the only time she left his side was to grab a bite to eat. Later she’d tell him about the infection, which landed him in ICU. Right now, the sound of his gravelly voice was music to her ears.

  Ray was silent for a moment. Images of doctors and nurses flashed through his head, but the picture remained fuzzy. He ran his tongue over dry lips. “Water…please.”

  Laney turned and picked up a plastic container she’d filled with crushed ice. Enough of the ice had melted to fill half a cup. She placed a straw in the cup and held it to his lips.

  Ray gingerly sucked the liquid into his mouth. “Merci,” he muttered hoarsely.

  Laney sat the cup back on a small table near the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Ray crocked his finger, an indication he wanted Laney to come closer. “A kiss.”

  Alex shook his head and changed his snicker to a quiet cough. “Partner, even in sickness—”

  “Shut up, mon frère,” Ray slurred.

  The door opened and Ray’s surgeon, Dr. Patel, walked in. Somewhat startled by the crowd, he asked, “Are all of you related to Mr. Lawson?”

  “Yeah, doc,” Ray answered. “This is my clan.”

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Patel asked, placing a stethoscope to Ray’s chest.

  “C’mon, talk to me doc.” Ray winced from the pain. “Tell me something good.”

  Dr. Patel smiled. “My friend, we found no trace of cancer.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Good Morning, gentlemen,” Laney said with a soft, Southern drawl. “First, let me thank each of you for meeting with me today to consider Mr. LaSalle’s proposal.” She motioned to the neatly designed folder, which sat in front of each of the CEO’s who’s companies Raphael wanted to partner with the academy.“Shall we begin?”

  From the day Raphael was released from the hospital after his second surgery, Laney had studied the proposal every chance she got. She’d memorized every page and could reiterate each aspect without hesitation. With unwavering confidence, she’d walked into the Los Angeles conference room determined to walk out victorious.

  Laney ignored the curt nods from a couple of investors who’d shifted restlessly in their chair the moment she’d uttered ‘Good Morning,’ an indication to dispatch with the pleasantries and get the show on the road. “The purpose of today’s—”

  “I don’t mean to sound crass, Ms. Houston, but I’m a busy man,” the Chicago CEO abruptly said. “I simply don’t have time to sit here and listen to a rehash about the purpose of today’s meeting.”

  Laney spoke above the round of muffled chuckles. “The majority of America is busy, sir.” She listened to the noise level in the room drop to graveyard silence and continued. “However, since you’ve no doubt read the proposal in its entirety and are intimately acquainted with the importance of your company participating in this project, then perhaps you’d be willing to provide us with a succinct overview of today’s meeting.” Laney watched sheer embarrassment spread across the man’s face. “In that case…”

  In all of ninety seconds, she’d not only passionately explained the features, advantages, and benefits of the project, but had several of the CEO’s clamoring to see the video presentation as to exactly how the project would be implemented.

  The CEO from Philadelphia voiced his opinion. “Ms. Houston, your presentation tugs at the heartstrings, but I don’t believe this is what African-American boys need.”

  A calm angelic expression fanned across Laney’s face. Maybe it was the ignorance in the last CEO’s tone that cut down to the quick. If she had to lose, so be it, but she’d certainly do so with dignity. How dare he sit there on the pretense he knew what was best for these boys, she thought. “Hmmm, I assume that same logic would apply if I were to say I knew the world as it exists for a white male, although I’m not one. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Laney paused and looked at the CEO. Her point scored. She saw it in his eyes. Satisfied, she pressed on. “The importance of this project can best be summed up from a quote by the famous composer John Adams: ‘Music goes beyond words in its power to express human emotion. It is both the form and the content of human experience, being both exquisitely precise and richly ambiguous. For children, it constitutes the ultimate education and preparation for life.’”

  She walked slowly behind each chair, allowing her statement to transcend through to the hearts of those around the table. At one point, she glanced over at JoJo. He looked so excited she thought he’d break out into a Snoopy dance any minute.

  Laney cast an unwavering glance around the room and spoke from a conviction buried deep in the depths of her soul. “Only three out of every one hundred Black males entering kindergarten throughout the nation will graduate from college. Perhaps the greatest reality we must face is that parents, teachers, and community leaders are disconnected from the issues, obstacles, and negative influences these young men face every single day.”

  She paused, caught her wind, and began to gesture with her hands. “There is no plan for them, therefore there’s nothing for them to hope for. Then what happens? Many will end up incarcerated as opposed to graduating from college. This program will not only educate them to the fine art of music, it will also create future generations of Black men who are educated and prepared to fully participate in shaping this nation, and moreover, our world.”

  The CEO from Atlanta raised his hand in the air. “Ms. Houston, my firm doesn’t want to see these young men dazzled by another group of entertainers. We want them to receive a basic knowledge of what it takes to succeed in the business world.”

  “Aaah, your point is the very essence of why this program is so unique and the reason your organization should be involved. Although the members of Les Croisés have provided entertainment to millions throughout their career, they’re not merely entertainers, but professionals in their own right.” Laney swirled away from the back of the room toward the laptop at the front to continue the Power Point presentation. She clicked the cordless remote until Ray’s picture flashed on the screen. “Take for instance Mr. LaSalle who obtained his juris doctor with an emphasis in entertainment law from UCLA in only two and a half years.” She clicked the remote again. “Here we have Mr. Bonner, who excelled in the field of math and science and became a chemical engineer.” She waited for a double slide to appear on the screen, then spoke again. “Mr. Nelson is a former Wall Street broker and Mr. Alexander is a MBA graduate from Stanford. Both have first-hand knowledge of the fundamentals needed to be successful in a business environment. Now taking all of this into consideration, it’s difficult to argue that Les Croisés is merely seeking to dazzle the young men who will attend this academy. Wouldn’t you agree, sir?”

  Laney smiled and watched as the concept of the project sank in with the CEO’s.

  The Miami investor snapped his portfolio shut and gleamed brightly. “This is revolutionary. Absolutely magnificent. Count my firm in.”

  “I can envision the potential…,” the CEO from Dalla
s drawled, steepling his fingers to his lips, deep in concentration. Two seconds later, he slapped a palm against the table. “I’m in as well.”

  “Gentleman, gentleman,” the CEO who’d grumbled earlier interrupted. “I would be remiss if I didn’t say this. None of us should let the rhetoric we’ve heard today sway us into making a regretful decision.” He cut a hard glance at Laney and asked in a condensing tone, “Ms. Houston, besides BF Automotive, exactly what other Fortune 500 firms have expressed an interest in this project, if any?”

  Laney felt a lazy grin tug at her lips. Why did he go there? She kept her line of vision focused with his. “I’m pleased to announce that on yesterday, O’Reilly Enterprises confirmed their interest.”

  Laney swept her gaze over the Chicago CEO who sat dumbfounded and looked like he was in cardiac arrest. She wasn’t sure what had prompted his crude demeanor, but she planned to find out.

  “What makes you so certain O’Reilly Enterprises is a confirmed investor?” the Chicago CEO challenged again.

  Laney smiled sweetly. “Because I own it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Ray paced in a tight circle. The moment his cell phone rang, he grabbed it off the nightstand.

  “Red,” he uttered anxiously.

  “Oui.”

  “How did it go, baby?”

  “We did it, darling. We did it.”

  Ray pumped his fist in the air.

  There was a long stretch of silence. Ray finally asked, “You doing okay?”

  “I’m wonderful,” Laney said in a low, sultry voice. “How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you miss me?” she teased.

  “Girl, you starting mess.”

  Laney released a raspy chuckle. “If it makes you feel any better, my flight leaves at eight tomorrow morning.”

  Ray was silent for a long time.

  “Darling, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah…yeah, baby. Everything’s cool.” Ray closed his eyes as the image of Laney danced in his head, his voice barely audible. “Red…”