Snapped

by Tracy Brown

  She smiled. “I already have a big brother. Baron is enough. I don’t need any more brothers.”

  “What do you need, then?” Frankie asked, the cognac speaking for him now.

  She looked at him, wondering if he was ready for the truth. She went for it. “I need you to hurry up and divorce that wife of yours so I can get with a real man and stop wasting time with these lames.” She smiled, and he wondered if she meant it.

  Frankie was quiet for several moments. “What would your brother say if he heard you talking like that?” he asked, not really giving a fuck what Baron thought. At this point, he was just happy that she was talking this way. There had been such an unspoken chemistry between them for so long that he was relieved to be finally airing it out.

  Gillian shrugged, smiling. “Baron gave you his stamp of approval long ago.”

  Frankie was shocked. “You talked to your brother about getting with me before?”

  Gillian nodded.

  “Yeah, right! When?” Frankie asked, flattered.

  “Years ago, when you were about to marry Camille. I was gonna profess my lust for you back then. My brother told me that you were a good dude and that he wouldn’t object if me and you got together.”

  Frankie smiled, flattered that beautiful Gillian had wanted him for so long. “Lust, not love, huh?”

  She shrugged again. “It’s a start, ain’t it?”

  He stared at her, looking so beautiful in the candlelight. “Damn. I wish I woulda known that.”

  She sipped her wine and looked him dead in the eyes. “What would be different if you had known?”

  He thought about it. “I might not have made it down the aisle in that case.”

  Gillian licked her lips and stared at him. “Well, I should have spoken up sooner,” she said softly.

  He looked at her. “It’s not too late, you know.” Frankie could feel his dick getting hard and was glad that the tablecloth shielded it.

  Gillian raised an eyebrow. “You getting a divorce soon?” she asked.

  Frankie laughed. “I might get one tonight if you keep talking like this!”

  Gillian laughed, too. She knew that Frankie didn’t mean it. He wasn’t divorcing Camille anytime soon. But she was happy that they’d finally addressed what they’d both known all along—that they had love for each other as more than just friends.

  They enjoyed two more rounds of drinks and ate dessert before they spilled out of the restaurant into the brisk autumn air. The wind caused a loose strand of her hair to dance in the breeze and Frankie had to resist the urge to reach for it. The sounds of New York City surrounded them as sirens blared and taxis honked their horns. Music blasted out of a nearby bar, and the sound of the patrons’ laughter mixed with that of the city in motion. They were both feeling the effects of all the alcohol consumption, and the night air only magnified it. Without warning, Frankie pulled Gillian close to him. She was visibly caught off guard, but didn’t protest as he held her face in his hands and kissed her softly on her lips.

  Gillian was swept up in the moment and couldn’t believe how good it felt to be lost in Frankie’s kiss, paralyzed by his strong embrace. She returned his kiss with a passion that surprised her. Soon their tongues were intertwined and their bodies were pressed together so closely that Gillian could feel heat between her thighs, and a moan escaped her lips. She pulled away from Frankie and stepped back, lightly touching her lips as if she couldn’t believe they’d been pressed against his only moments ago.

  Frankie reached for her, but she pulled away.

  “This ain’t right,” she said softly. “You’re married, Frankie.”

  Frankie hung his head, ashamed of the truth in her statement. He loved his wife. But, shit! Gillian was making him want to give it all up.

  “I’m not happy with my wife anymore,” he said, realizing how true that statement was as the words left his mouth. “I haven’t been happy with her for a long time. That’s why I’m never home.”

  Gillian looked at him, and then looked away. She knew that he was telling the truth. She’d known it for some time now. And she had to admit that it felt good to hear him say it out loud. But part of her felt guilty for wanting another woman’s husband so badly. “Then tell her that. Until then, we can’t cross that line, Frankie. That’s not how I want to do things.”

  He sighed, then nodded, understanding how she felt. “So I guess I can’t come home with you tonight.” He smiled innocently at her. Frankie wanted so badly to be between her legs until the sun came up.

  Gillian shook her head and smiled. “Guess not.” She hailed a taxi to take her uptown to her East Ninety-sixth Street town house and blew a kiss to Frankie as she climbed inside.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.

  Her taxi pulled away slowly, leaving Frankie standing on the curb still tasting her sweet lips. He walked to the parking garage, feeling somewhat lost. He loved Camille. She was, after all, his wife. But these days he had a longing for Gillian that was growing harder to control with each moment that passed. He drove home carefully, aware that he was definitely driving under the influence, and finally made it back home safely. He pulled his car into the garage and entered the dark house quietly, intending to slip into bed beside Camille and rouse her for a quickie. Since he couldn’t have Gillian, he’d settle for his wife.

  As he entered his spacious bedroom, though, he stopped in his tracks and sighed. Camille was sprawled out across their big bed with little Shane snoring softly beside her. Frankie couldn’t help noticing that Shane’s little ass was on his side of the bed. Frustrated, he turned and went to sleep alone in one of the guest rooms. As he settled into the unfamiliar bed, he thought about Gillian, wondered if she was making love to that wack-ass stockbroker at that very moment. The thought of it pissed him off even more than the thought of Shane sleeping in his spot. Annoyed with everyone and everything, Frankie fell asleep hoping for a sweet dream in order to escape his disappointing reality.

  Ladies’ Night

  “You’s a dumb bitch!” Toya sipped her red wine and shook her head in disgust. The ladies had gathered together for what had become a weekly ritual—dinner and drinks at one of New York’s fabulous hot spots. Tonight it was the famed Buddakan, an upscale Asian-inspired restaurant in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District.

  “Will you help me or not?” Dominique demanded as she sliced her steak and looked at Toya.

  Toya frowned and shook her head. “No, I will not. I’m not about to call some girl and question her about her relationship with your ‘man,’ if that’s what you want to call this muthafucka. You know why I’m not gonna call some girl and question her? Because that’s stupid and it’s childish. It’s immature, it’s a sign of low self-esteem, it’s—”

  “Fine!” Dominique cut her off. “Camille, will you do it for me?”

  Camille almost choked on her food. “Me? No way! I would mess that up completely.”

  Dominique rolled her eyes. “Not if I’m right there with you, telling you what to say.”

  Camille shook her head. Misa spoke up. “Don’t even look at me, ’cuz I don’t play phone games with chicks. You’re on your own, sweetie.”

  “Come on, y’all. I need you right now.”

  Toya sucked her teeth. “No, what you need is a damn psychiatrist. I can’t believe you!”

  Dominique tossed her fork onto her plate and sat back with her arms thrust in the air in exasperation. “Why am I the one who needs a psychiatrist when I’m the one being cheated on?” Dominique’s diamond earrings sparkled by the light of the candle burning in the center of their table.

  “So what!” Camille hissed, causing some of the other diners to glance uncomfortably in their direction. “You’re not the first woman to be cheated on, Dominique. And you won’t be the last. This is not how you deal with things.” Camille could feel her blood pressure rising and wasn’t sure why she was so upset.

  Toya shook her head. “Listen t
o yourself,” she said. She looked at Dominique and tried to reason with her friend. “You do realize that Jamel’s broke ass is in jail right now, don’t you? He’s in jail, Dominique! And you’re worried about whether or not another female is going up to the jail to visit him. Listen to yourself, you dumb bitch.” Toya shoved more salad in her mouth, wondering why she wasted time with this hardheaded friend of hers.

  “The CO told me that another girl was up there visiting him the weekend that I couldn’t make it, and I think it was his son’s mother. I can’t call her and ask her myself, ’cuz then she’ll tell him and he’ll probably get mad at me. You know how men try to flip shit around all the time. So all I need is for one of you to call like you’re a prison official and ask if she was there to visit him recently.”

  “The muthafucka is a convict,” Toya reminded her.

  “Jesus!” Dominique folded her arms across her chest as if Toya’s comment had made her lose her appetite.

  Toya ignored Dominique and continued. “Yet, you keep acting like he’s God’s gift to women. You must be out your mind if you think that I would ever waste my time trying to find out if his bum ass is creeping on you. The CO said another bitch was up there. That should be it! What more do you need?”

  “I need to know for sure. I need to hear her say that she was up there visiting him.”

  “Does that even sound logical to you?” Camille asked. “You’re not making sense.”

  Dominique nodded quickly. “It makes perfect sense to me,” she said. “Jamel is a good catch. I recognize it and so does his baby mama, and that’s why she won’t leave him alone. I need to let her know that I exist. But I don’t want to risk losing him because I went and called his ex. So I need one of you to do this for me. This is the type of shit that friends are for.”

  Misa laughed. “That’s not what friends are for. Friends are for telling you when you’re wrong and keeping it real with you. And the truth is, your ass is crazy, Dominique. He’s not worth all this.” Misa was happier than she had ever been now that she was carrying on a lusty romance with Baron. He hadn’t taken her out on the town much, but they had spent several passion-filled evenings holed up in his New Jersey mansion. It was enough to make her feel grown and sexy like never before.

  “You don’t even know him,” Dominique said, looking at Misa as if she had offended her.

  “I know enough. He’s not the good catch that you think he is.” Misa shook her head.

  Camille ordered dessert from the passing waitress.

  “All right, just forget it,” Dominique sighed, exasperated, and resumed eating. “I should’ve known that none of you would help me.”

  Camille sat back and looked at her friend. Dominique could be so wild sometimes. But it was one of the things Camille loved most about her. They all had their distinctions, which was what made their friendship special. In the months since Camille’s surprise party, they had all established a close friendship. They met for dinner and drinks every Friday night. Each woman brought something unique to the mix.

  “Dominique, you know we got your back. But you gotta listen to reason sometimes.” Misa signaled the waitress for another drink.

  “Well, moving on . . .” Toya shot a look at Dominique to let her know that her request for their help was out of the question. “Alex is taking me to Brazil for my birthday,” she announced with a nonchalant tone in her voice. “We’re leaving the Friday before my birthday and we’ll be back a week later.” Now that he realized how fed up Toya was with his lack of energy and fun, Alex was stepping up his game. Toya smiled to herself, happy that her relationship with him was finally taking a turn for the better.

  Dominique exhaled loudly. “Why do you always find the ones who pay for trips and buy you nice shit, while I get stuck with the two-timing losers?”

  Toya laughed. “ ’Cuz, honey, I would never give a loser the time of day. I don’t play that shit. If a man can’t do for me, what do I need him for? He better know how to fix something, or be able to buy me something, or he better have connections to someone or something that interests me. Otherwise, I don’t need the muthafucka!”

  Misa gave her a high five and Dominique shook her head. “That’s not what love is supposed to be about, Toya. What if you fall in love with a man who treats you like a queen but doesn’t have a lot of money?”

  Toya shook her head, frowning. “Dominique, who said anything about love?” She took a sip of her margarita and continued. “Love is nothing but fucking trouble. I’m not looking for love. All I need is a stiff dick and some perks.”

  Everyone laughed, and Toya smiled, looking intently at Dominique. “Take notes, bitch. I don’t do relationships and neither should you. You’re too young, and you got everything going for you. Why would you want to settle down with one lame when there’s a whole city full of sexy men out there waiting to be tried out?”

  Dominique shrugged and stirred her drink, still disappointed that none of her friends would help her in her plight with Jamel.

  Camille looked confused. “But that outlook can’t last forever, Toya. Relationships aren’t always so bad.”

  Toya frowned at Camille and set her drink down. “Just because you’re living the boring married life doesn’t mean that we all need to settle, too.”

  “Hey!” Camille objected. “Who ever said that I was bored or settling? I love Frankie. It is possible to be happily married.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Toya suggested.

  “No. I’m trying to convince you so that you’ll stop putting crazy ideas like that in Dominique’s head.”

  “Well, let me ask you this,” Toya responded, leaning forward slightly. “How much time do you spend doing the things that you like to do? Aside from our Friday nights out, what do you do for yourself to make you happy?”

  Camille gave the question some thought.

  “Exactly,” Toya said. “I rest my case.”

  Misa nodded. “She’s right, Camille.”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance to think of an answer,” Camille protested.

  “You shouldn’t need to think about that. I can tell you right now what I do to make myself happy. I go out when the fuck I want. I go home when the fuck I want. I get monthly facials, weekly manicures and pedicures. I get my hair done. I get massages. I go on shopping sprees whenever the mood strikes me. And I don’t need to ask anybody’s permission to do none of that shit! I don’t have to hide my bags in the back of the closet ’cuz some husband wants to make me feel guilty about what I spend. I don’t have to pick up after a messy muthafucka. And best of all, when I’m done cumming, he can get the fuck out.”

  Camille shook her head. “You can be so crazy sometimes.” She laughed, but couldn’t help thinking about what Toya was saying. She had to admit that Toya’s life sounded much more appealing than hers did at the moment. “I go to the gym,” she said. “I go shopping whenever I want and I redecorate the house. I have things to do to make myself happy.”

  Toya could tell that Camille was trying to convince herself that her life was fine the way it was. But she knew the truth. “Those things don’t make you happy. They keep you distracted so that you don’t realize how unhappy you really are.”

  Camille thought about what Toya had said and disagreed completely. To Camille, nothing in the world was better than being married. “I love my husband, Toya. I know Frankie’s good traits and his bad ones. I know who I’m going to bed with at night and who I’m waking up to in the morning. I don’t have to wonder about anything. I already know who I’ve got and what he’s about and I don’t miss the dating scene at all!” Camille looked at each of her friends sincerely. “I worry about you out there living the single life. There’s all kinds of shit out there. STDs, down-low men . . . you never know what you’re gonna get. It’s like playing Russian roulette. I swear, I’m so glad that I’m married.”

  Toya scrunched up her lips in disbelief. “Please! You ain’t fooling nobo
dy with that shit.”

  Camille laughed. “I’m not trying to fool anybody. I’m happy with Frankie.”

  Toya waved her hand and said, “You’re only happy ’cuz you’ve convinced yourself that your life is some fairy tale. You’re one of those women who believe that you can’t be happy without a man. You like being able to say ‘my husband,’ as if that makes you sound more accomplished or something.” Toya laughed as if it were a ridiculous notion. “Being happy that you’re a wife doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re happy with Frankie. In fact, you hardly ever get to see Frankie because he’s always out there grinding. Am I right?”

  Camille was frowning. “Yeah, but—”

  “You hardly see the man. So it’s not about you being so happy with him. It’s about you being happy with the thought of being married.”

  Camille stared back at Toya and shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

  “Whatever.” Toya gulped down the rest of her drink and signaled for another one. She knew that she had hit a nerve with Camille. But Toya didn’t care. She hated Camille’s stance on marriage. Toya was well aware that everything wasn’t as sunny in the Bingham household as Camille made it out to be. Toya knew all about Frankie’s close relationship with Gillian. Frankie’s long hours away from home, his frequent “business trips,” the mysterious charges for dinners for two on his credit card statement; Camille had shared it all with Toya. So it made her feel almost sick to her stomach to hear Camille talk so condescendingly to the single ladies.

  Misa stayed quiet while Toya read her sister like a book. She, too, was sick of hearing Camille brag about her marriage, when everybody knew that it was anything but picture perfect.

  When they’d all gotten another round of drinks, Dominique decided to break the ice. “Toya, why don’t we go shopping for your trip to Brazil. You know I have the inside track to all the hot new stylists. Let me set up some appointments and see if we can get you some free shit,” she suggested, smiling.

  Toya’s face lit up. “If it’s free, it’s for me, bitch!” She beamed with joy and raised her glass tipsily. “A toast,” she said. “To being fuckin’ happy!”