by Candice Dow
Copyright
The events and characters in this book are fictitious. Certain real locations and public figures are mentioned, but all other characters and events described in the book are totally imaginary.
Copyright © 2009 by Candice Dow
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Grand Central Publishing
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First eBook Edition: September 2009
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ISBN: 978-0-446-55085-7
Contents
COPYRIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
1: DEVIN
2: CLARK
3: DEVIN
4: CLARK
5: DEVIN
6: CLARK
7: DEVIN
8: CLARK
9: DEVIN
10: CLARK
11: DEVIN
12: CLARK
13: DEVIN
14: CLARK
15: DEVIN
16: CLARK
17: DEVIN
18: CLARK
19: DEVIN
20: CLARK
21: DEVIN
22: CLARK
23: DEVIN
24: CLARK
25: DEVIN
26: CLARK
27: DEVIN
28: CLARK
29: DEVIN
30: CLARK
31: DEVIN
32: CLARK
33: DEVIN
34: CLARK
35: DEVIN
36: CLARK
37: CLARK
38: DEVIN
39: CLARK
40: DEVIN
41: CLARK
42: DEVIN
43: DEVIN
44: CLARK
45: CLARK
46: DEVIN
47: DEVIN
48: CLARK
49: DEVIN
50: CLARK
READING GROUP GUIDE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, I would like to thank God for this journey; the obstacles and the blessings.
Special thanks to my readers for inspiring me to write a sequel to my first novel, Caught in the Mix. This book is for you. These characters seemed to have really resonated with you, and over the years many of you have shared with me your own love stories and the resemblances to Clark and Devin. You wanted to know more about them, and you felt there were unanswered questions. Your excitement kept them alive and made me want to finish their story. I hope that Feelin’ the Vibe is all you’d hoped for in Clark and Devin’s reunion.
Thanks to my parents, family, and friends for supporting me through everything. To my agent, Audra Barrett. To my editors, Karen Thomas and Latoya Smith. Thanks for always making sure the story is all that it should be.
Special thanks to everyone who has offered me advice, encouragement, or inspiration along the way. You are truly loved and appreciated.
With love,
Candice
1
DEVIN
After my mother got over the shock that I was getting married again, to a girl she didn’t even know, she figured she would do her part and plan the rehearsal dinner. She was all about custom, and she had to do the right thing whether she approved or not. She and my father came into DC three days before the wedding. But judging by the looks of the window-enclosed banquet room at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, she’d done a lot of planning over the phone. One hundred guests were invited to the rehearsal dinner, and my boys took full advantage of the top-shelf open bar. They raised their cups to me multiple times. To the rich boy, they would say. That had been a running joke since we were in college.
Here I was, thirty-two years old, a successful political attorney, and my millionaire parents were still trying to make up for lost time, mend our estranged relationship, do what they assumed good parents do. I know my mother at least regretted that while they were building a multimillion-dollar law firm, I was being nurtured by the nanny, the housekeeper, and even the gardener at times. I was off to college in a matter of minutes, as my mother explains. They had totally missed my childhood and probably knew less about me than they would have liked. The plan was for me to go off to Hampton for undergrad, then on to law school at Columbia and back to Arizona to work my way to partner in Patterson & Patterson, but I diverged from the course. I got married during my second year in law school—big mistake, by the way. And I wanted a real relationship with my daughter and I couldn’t allow her to be second to my success. So, I decided to find my own path and stayed in New York after law school to give my daughter the security she deserved, even after her mother and I called it quits.
Despite the awkward relationship with my parents, they have always been my financial backbone, and I plan to follow their professional path. The only thing I’d yet to master was to marry someone who could potentially be my business partner. However, in my relationship, I planned to be the leader and not be like my father, who seemed to be led around like a puppy. My mother was clearly the mastermind behind the Patterson & Patterson empire. My father always seemed to be along for the ride.
I looked across the room at my bride-to-be and smiled, hoping I had found that partner. She had all the checkmarks. She was a successful attorney as well, daughter of a prestigious Baptist minister and effortlessly classy. I walked in her direction and my smile got bigger as I got closer. Her fitted, green strapless dress accentuated her tall, shapely figure, and the color made her maple-brown skin sparkle. She gave me her usual doublewide smile, and her plump lips glistened. Her big eyes squinted and she batted her long lashes as I approached. Long, black, straight hair was weaved into her normally ear-length hair, and it flowed down her back as if it belonged to her.
As I reached for her hand, I couldn’t help feeling lucky. Taylor was the baddest chick left in the game. By thirty, most women were scarred and ruined by the bad selection of men out here, so they couldn’t recognize a good man with bifocals. Taylor, on the other hand, was just one year younger than me, but she was uninhibited, carefree, and didn’t sweat the small stuff. She was beauty, brains, and bedroom skills all packaged in one. When I met her, I knew she would look good by my side, professionally and physically.
My mother stood up, wearing a stiff baby blue business suit in the middle of June, looking like Hillary Clinton’s twin sister, and chimed her glass with a fork to gain everyone’s attention. Taylor’s parents smiled, anxious to hear what she had to say. I felt a little edgy, because my parents had invited several of their fellow Stanford alumni friends, and she was in her element. Taylor’s guests looked around as if to say: Who the hell is this white woman? It wasn’t something that I had branded on my forehead—or in my physical characteristics, for that matter—so people were always shocked to discover that I was biracial.
“I must say that this wedding came as a big surprise for me. I mean, I just met Taylor yesterday. Devin called me, it seems like two weeks ago, and said, ‘I’m getting married.’ I said, ‘To who?’” she said, chuckling.
The crowd gasped, and Taylor looked like she could disappear. My eyes shot daggers at my mother, and I held Taylor’s hand tightly and apologetically. She waved a napkin at Taylor and me to suggest we not be so sensitive. She continued, “But I’m sure if my son picked y
ou, you’re quite a gem. Devin has a heart of gold. I just hope that he is everything you dreamed of, because he is truly a good man.”
She doesn’t even know what kind of man I am. Hesitant claps trickled throughout the room. Based on people’s confused expressions, they probably wondered what was the purpose of her comment, but I knew my mother. She said exactly what she wanted to say when she wanted to say it. The translation for what she was saying was, “I don’t even know this ho. Devin, is this just another one of your public-service projects? Well, if it’s not, this chick better be good to you.”
She’d pretty much made everyone uncomfortable. I wondered if she was plain old oblivious to the way she insulted people or if she was so used to being the boss that she was desensitized. What the hell could I do? She was my mother. As fucked-up as she was, she was what God gave me. Shortly after, the guests began to bail out one by one. Taylor looked irritated, and I held her hand to remind her of all the things I’d warned her about my mother. My parents lived between Arizona and Florida, and with their busy schedules and mine I got to see them a maximum of twice a year, so her personality wouldn’t pose a problem in my relationship.
On the other hand, I was glad my mother cleared the room. It was time for the bachelor party. All of my line brothers were already drunk, and I knew it would be off the chain. I gave Taylor a long hug, kissing her bare shoulders. Her ever-glossed lips pecked me on the cheek.
“Baby, I’ll see you at the altar.”
My hand rested on the small of her back, as I looked her up and down for the last time before she would be Mrs. Devin Patterson. Her height made it appear that she always wore heels, so no one took notice of the casual flip-flops she sported. She claimed she didn’t want to tire her feet before the big day. I kissed her again. “I wouldn’t miss it, TJ.”
I rounded up the fellas and we headed out of the hotel like twenty-year-olds who were on their way to visit a strip joint for the first time. Most of them were married or in long-term relationships, so this would be the first time in a long time that multiple chicks grinded on them at once. I couldn’t wait to be where they were: stable. I was tired of the game, tired of dumb-ass girls. Which was probably why I was four months into the relationship and already tying the knot. One thing was sure: My parents didn’t raise a fool. I didn’t plan on letting a good thing pass me by twice. Taylor was going to be mine against all odds.
And boy, did we have odds. I met Taylor at the Congressional Black Caucus in DC a few years back. We danced at a party and I was feeling her physically, but of course I was guilty of assuming she was a fine chick with nothing to offer. When I found out that she was also a corporate attorney and worked for the Train Workers Union, I immediately thought we could be the next DC power couple. She, on the other hand, couldn’t see the possibilities and kept telling me that she had a man. She never told me much about him, just that he existed. A part of me believed he was just imaginary. Still, she wouldn’t give me what I wanted, so I laid low for a while, opting for intermittent friendship.
At the time I was between DC and New York, so whenever I came to DC I’d give her a call and we’d hang out. If you want something to happen bad enough, keep checking in. One day, I hit her up and she told me that she had broken up with that nameless, faceless dude she’d been calling her man. I wasted no time making her my girl. It was right around my thirty-first birthday, and I felt like she was my gift. I couldn’t wait to have her on my arm at the party I was planning. She and her best friend, Courtney, came up to New York and arrived at the house a few hours before the party.
When we got to the club, all of my boys gave the head nod; she was a winner, and everyone could see. When my best friend, Jason, and his girlfriend, Akua, walked in, it seemed like the entire club stopped moving, the music skipped a beat, and Taylor looked like she’d seen a ghost. Jason scowled at Taylor. I was confused and my eyes shifted from Taylor to Jason to Akua. Clearly, they’d all met before, and this definitely was not a happy reunion.
Taylor had told me that the guy she was seeing while I pursued her was her high school sweetheart and she’d broken his heart way back when. But after running into him at their ten-year class reunion, she’d successfully stolen him from his girlfriend. I’m thinking this dude lived in the Maryland-DC area or somewhere close. Maybe I didn’t ask enough questions, because Jason was the guy and he lived in Connecticut, and as far as I knew Jason and Akua had never broken up.
While I was shocked that our worlds intersected in such a crazy way, I was pissed to think that Taylor was dissin’ me for a dude who already had someone. I couldn’t believe the chick that I’d hyped up in my mind was just another dumb girl. I was mad as shit. I was mad at Taylor for being stupid, and I was madder at Jason, because after all we’d been through he could have told me he had a chick on the side in DC. Had he done that, we wouldn’t have had this problem.
Taylor made it seem like she realized Jason wasn’t what she wanted and that’s why they stopping dealing with each other, but Jason claimed he didn’t want to leave Akua. He said that Akua was the better woman and Taylor was crushed when he broke it off. He thought Taylor might have intentionally targeted me for revenge. Jason and I debated whether she could have known we were line brothers and if our relationship was nothing more than an attack on him. I tried to explain that I chased her and she couldn’t have possibly known. He wasn’t having it. Jason was adamant that she’d masterminded this entire situation.
Momentarily, I wanted to believe that she was a snake in the grass. Then my wisdom kicked in: There was no way possible she could have known we were connected. Taylor was never the type to play the who-do-you-know or what-do-you-do games. In fact, she hated “status probing,” as she called it, and avoided it at all costs. Not to mention, at the time I was between New York and DC. Jason and Akua were in Connecticut, and Taylor was in Maryland. What were the chances? Still, my boy looked me in my eye and told me that no matter if Taylor did this intentionally or not, he really didn’t want any of his boys with her. Taylor was his girl that got away. So without question or regret, I ended it right there because men don’t expose those kind of weak feelings for random chicks. I shook his hand and promised him that he never had to worry. There were too many women out here.
After more bad conversations, more bad dates, more you’re-such-a-good-man-I-want-to-marry-you-now chicks, I broke my promise. I could search the whole world, which I had, and never find someone to click with the way Taylor and I did. In the most upstanding way, I let Jason know that I planned to see where it went with her. I told him as calmly and as honestly as possible that he had a good woman and I didn’t, so I deserved one, too. Me wanting to be with Taylor should validate our friendship, not destroy it. Hell, it only meant we both had good taste. Initially, he laughed it off and told me to do what I had to do. He claimed his sideline with Taylor only strengthened his relationship with Akua. We danced around the fact that there would be no couples vacations or double dates. That would be too much, but still we were boys and that took precedence over any soft-ass feelings.
Three months later, my ultimate goal of running for United States Congress seemed attainable. My advisors told me that my chances were greater if I were married. Voters tend to support politicians they see as committed. There was a part of me that wanted to get to know Taylor better. Then there was the side that said that I’d seen enough already and why not. I contemplated all of two days before I drove down to Tyson’s Corner and snatched up a 2.7-karat clear-as-hell solitaire in a platinum channel-set 2.0-karat diamond band from Tiffany.
When I asked Taylor, she took nearly five minutes to say yes. My heart pounded and I regretted it for those moments. This is too much for her to handle, I thought. We don’t know each other that well.
Finally, she shrugged. “Devin Patterson, why wouldn’t I marry you?”
I told her that I wanted it to be done quick and fast. Partly because I wanted to be married for at least a few months before I submit
ted my application for the election and partly before I came to my senses. After we set the date, it was time to announce to the world that I’d found the one again and this time would be for good. That was when Jason lost his damn mind. He basically called me every bitch-ass, backstabbing, no-good-for-nothing, rich-boy, spoiled-ass, selfish-motherfucker name in the book. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the extent of their little fling, but I was in too deep. I was in love, and Taylor was my only serious girlfriend since my divorce, nearly seven years ago. So I really didn’t have a choice. My only recourse was to get Jason to empathize with me.
I went up to Connecticut and reasoned with him. He hung his head. “So, you really love her?”
Holding my chest up, I said, “Yeah, man. And you know I haven’t felt like this for anyone since—”
“Clark. Yeah, I know. So, what about her?”
My eyebrows scrunched up. What the hell was he talking about? “Look, man, Clark is a married woman.”
“Nah, I’m saying what would you say if I told you that I loved Clark and wanted to marry your old girlfriend? A chick that you had mad love for.”
I gazed off for a minute and then stared him dead in the eye. “Look, man, I would shoot you if you even thought about dating Clark.” I laughed a little. “If you tell me you feel as strongly for Taylor as I felt for Clark, I’ll call it off.”
He reached out to shake my hand. “Nah, dawg. It’s not that heavy. Do what you have to do. Taylor would probably work out better for someone like you.”
“And besides, you got the baddest chick out here anyway,” I said, referring to his orthopedic-surgeon, sexy-ass, love-his-dirty-drawers fiancée. We made amends that day, and I was cocky enough to ask him if he’d be my best man. He agreed with a smile.
The wedding had become way more than I expected. Taylor and I wanted something simple, but her father was a pastor of a church with about six thousand members, and her mother was in charge of the bridal ministry. So, in less than five weeks, we had nearly five hundred invited guests, a host of church members who planned to just come see us exchange vows. It was all too much for me. The one simple thing that Taylor and I were able to control was we didn’t want a whole slew of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Her best friend, Courtney, the maid of honor, and Jason, my best man, were the only members of the bridal party.