Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series)

by Jessica Watkins

  Sugar didn’t have an answer for that. She merely blushed again bashfully.

  “Exactly,” I said. “You can put your pimp cup down for a minute to spend time with your friend.”

  “You’re right.”

  I pretended to be shocked. “I’m right? You’re just going to let me win that easy? That heifer must be ugly.”

  TRICEY

  “So what do you think?”

  I felt like I was in a movie. There Lyric stood before me in a beautiful white taffeta wedding gown smiling from ear to ear in front of a huge three-way mirror so that she was able to see every inch of the dress and how she looked in it.

  And I stood on the side like the single friend holding back tears of my own misery.

  Yes, it definitely felt like I was in a movie.

  “I think it looks great, Lyric.”

  The dress was a white sleeveless ball gown, which was a classic shape that fit at the bodice with a very full skirt that brushed the floor. It was accented with beaded metallic embroidered lace on the bodice and the skirt matched with a chapel train. The miraculous and abundance of intricate and Old English patterned beading on the front took my breath away. The beauty and details of the beading on the back was just as beautiful as the front.

  “Do you think I need it taken in anymore?” The way that Lyric’s eyes were wide with both anticipation and satisfaction made me giggle.

  “You look amazing. Don’t take it in anymore. Give yourself room to at least drink some water before the wedding.”

  Lyric then seemed to fade into “Oh my gawd. I’m getting married” land. She simply smiled and looked at herself in the mirror so closely that she nearly brushed her nose against her own reflection.

  I sadly and selfishly felt sick to my stomach. Seeing Lyric in that dress reminded me of how I am so officially unmarried and not even close to getting married.

  After I climbed out of my chiffon short bubble dress, that I promised Lyric that I loved but honestly thought I looked fat in since it was this weird “pool” color that I have never heard of, I headed home to meet Amiel.

  My psyche was dwelling heavily on my ability to interact with him without the discomfort and unhappiness oozing from my pours, so I immediately poured a strong drink; a double shot of Patron with no ice.

  When I attempted to sit down next to him on the couch, he immediately sat me down on his lap instead. As I straddled him and looked him in the eyes, he kissed my lips aggressively and simply smiled at me.

  “What?”

  He responded, “I can’t look at you?”

  “Sure. But you never look at me like that.”

  He seemed to be looking longingly into my eyes when he never has so much emotion in his stare.

  “Yes, I do. I just never let you catch me.”

  I had to adhere to his smile. When Amiel is with me, I forget the anxiety that loving him makes me feel. When he’s with me, I forget that he’s not mine, because as I sit here on his lap and we look into one another’s eyes and interact with one another like we were connected in a past life, I feel like there is no possible way that he isn’t mine.

  “You’re so sexy to me,” he told me.

  He seemed to be looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time. I often tease him for admiring my body like he hasn’t been seeing it on a regular basis for a year.

  I smiled bashfully as I said, “You should be use to it by now.”

  “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you, like you’re too good for me.”

  That took my breath away. Here I was praying to have him in my life in the future when he didn’t even feel like he was owed that much.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you. I don’t have to lie to you.”

  I simply exhaled and sipped as Amiel continued to hold me, kiss me, and caress me like it had been weeks since we’ve seen each other.

  “I want you to wait for me.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean wait for you?”

  Then he took a deep breath. “I feel bad even asking you this, and as someone who cares about you, I want you to be happy whether it’s with or without me. But the man in me, the man that loves you, prays that you will continue to be patient while I end this marriage.”

  I was nervous. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. A part of me wanted to smile, kiss his lips, and promise him that I was willing to wait an eternity for him. But the other part of me wanted to keep my guards up and just enjoy this moment.

  “I know it’s hard,” he continued. “I know this isn’t the ideal situation for you, and I know that you deserve so much more. I walk into my house and feel so guilty because I know who deserves to be there. You are so special to me. What we have is special. There is so much chemistry between us. I have children with someone, but she and I have never connected in the way that you and I have. I am so honored that you’re by my side, accepting me for who I am and loving me. I just need time, time to do things right.”

  VICTORIA

  I laughed at the way Sugar sat motionless as the instrumentals that Bambi spoke over faded into the applause of the audience.

  “Damn,” she cursed with a soft sigh. “Now I’m horny. Theresa is going to get her some tonight!”

  I cracked up laughing as I finished the last of my glass of Moet. Moet and gin was not a good mix, so I was trying to keep my composure while attempting to keep the burgers down that I had at Bar Louie.

  “Let’s go,” Sugar said. “I’m ready to go see a squirrel about a nut.”

  Thank God she drove.

  I wasn’t drunk. However, I had a massive headache that resulted from my argument with Vince earlier, and the mixture of hard liquor and champagne was making me dizzy. There was also some mere anxiety. In the back of my mind, I kept hearing this voice tell me how lonely I am and how stupid I’m being for pushing Vince away.

  I just wanted to lie down.

  “So what’s up, girl? We never got the chance to talk about what you wanted to talk about.”

  Now that the anger and frustrations had time to turn into embarrassment of my own stupidity, I felt stupid even repeating what happened earlier today.

  “I’m cutting it off with Vince,” I answered.

  “Why?”

  “He’s too clingy. He wants too much too fast. He knows that I don’t want a relationship or to be emotionally involved, but he is still trying to force me into it anyway.”

  Sugar smacked her lips while saying, “He should.”

  “This coming from the person that drove two hours to meet a stranger that she met on blackpeoplemeet.com when there was available coochie laying right next to her that loves her dirty drawers!”

  “We ain’t talking about me,” Sugar said. “We’re talking about you.”

  “And what’s wrong with me? I act like any other man in the world.”

  “That’s not you, Vic.”

  “It’s the new me.”

  “It’s thehurt you.”

  I couldn’t and didn’t argue with her about that.

  “You haven’t given yourself opportunity to heal,” Sugar continued.

  “I will never heal. I will never be the same after what Taij did to me.”

  “He cheated on you. Women get cheated on every day.”

  My mouth dropped to the floor in response to her audacity to belittle the situation that she knew broke my heart into bite sized pieces.

  “Okay, okay,” she said before I could begin going off. “He gave you an STD. That was stupid, disrespectful, and very foolish of him. But let’s be real, how many women has that happened to? Did they let that turn them into hoes?”

  Again, my mouth dropped. “Are you calling me a hoe?!”

  Sugar nodded her head as if I should have already known.

  I asked, “What makes me a hoe?”

  “The fact that you sleep with so many people so effortlessly. It’s okay. I’m a hoe too.”

  “Hoes get
paid. I give away ass for free.”

  Sugar flinched at my raunchiness.

  “I do this shit because I want to, because I am in control, because when I wake up in the morning my feelings aren’t hurt, I feel damn good, and my heart isn’t wondering where the fuck my man was until four in the morning.”

  “That was one man, Vic. You’ve had one boyfriend, one committed relationship, and you’re basing the rest of your life on the outcome of it. That’s stupid, Vic. If you wanna be a hoe, then be a hoe. But don’t blame it on what Taij did, because that’s something that you can get over if you allow yourself to deal with it instead of hiding the pain behind one dick after another.”

  Thirteen

  Friday, December 5, 2008

  TRICEY

  It seemed like Amiel had telepathically received the doubtful feelings about him that were in my heart and came directly over Tuesday night to soothe them away.

  And on cue, I pushed those reservations into the back of my mind to simply enjoy his presence, comfort, and voice as we lie in my bed and he continued to promise me how much I meant to him.

  He was obviously tired from a full work day, but he satisfied me anyway. I didn’t ask him to. I believe he did it regardless of how tired he was because he wanted to ensure that if he was constantly pleasing me, I wouldn’t get it from anyone else. Rather than the fast paced and aggressive sex that we usually have, Amiel gave himself to me slow and certainly. I felt every inch of him. When he laid on top me, he looked me in the eyes and kissed me passionately as he rode me. It was like he wanted to show me that the words he told me were not only in his heart, but were also spilling from his eyes. And I did indeed see passion and love when I looked at him. I saw a man that has made it his business to show me that, whether sooner or later, with me is where he needed and wanted me to be.

  He turned me over and so gradually and intensely gave me his love. I wanted to howl all sorts of praises to God and thanks to His son.

  It seemed as if the tip of Amiel’s dick was touching my soul.

  However, I haven’t talked to him much since he left the next morning. There have only been a few phone calls here and there and lots of text messages.

  It’s amazing to me how when Amiel is with me, I feel so complete, so joyous, and so happy that I don’t even realize that he’s a married man. Then when he leaves me, I still feel alone. The void that he fills is still ever so present the moment he leaves.

  I will always feel alone the next morning as long as he’s not mine.

  Just then, my office telephone rang, and I longingly looked at the Caller ID, hoping to see Amiel’s number flashing back at me. It’s normal for me not to speak with Amiel as much when he’s tired and needs rest, because his home is where he lays his head.

  Of course he can’t lay up talking to me all day with the wife in his face all happy because he’s finally sat his ass down. The thought of him there with her day after day just sickens me, literally.

  “This is Latrice speaking. How may I help you?”

  “What’s up, girl? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Hey, Vic. I’ve been meaning to call you back. I’m so sorry.”

  I have missed a few of her calls over the past couple of days. For some reason, I haven’t been feeling well. My head has been hurting, and I have a slight cold. I can’t wait to get off work so that I can go home and go straight to sleep.

  “It’s okay. I figured you were busy,” Vic said with a giggle.

  “It’s nothing like that. I just wasn’t feeling very well.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I have a head cold or something.”

  “Well, a Chicago winter will do that to you. Did you take something?”

  “I’ve been taking Ibuprofen and Robitussin, but I’m still so tired. My coffee isn’t even working.”

  “Maybe you should take a few days off work.”

  That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. Between the headache from the cold and the headache that constantly having Amiel on the brain has been giving me, I needed some rest and alone time- No work, no emails, and no phone calls; Amiel included.

  LYRIC

  After work I met Bradley at home, changed, and hopped into his blacked-out 2009 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class to meet his parents for dinner downtown at Morton’s Steakhouse.

  This was a pre-wedding dinner with his parents, so I was a nervous wreck. Of course I have already met Bradley’s parents. They seem to like me, though they haven’t gone overboard with the “we are a family now” treatment. In addition, there are many differences among me and Bradley’s upbringing that his parents don’t mind bringing to the surface. Therefore, I made sure to smile, nod, eat, and pray that they wouldn’t include me in the conversation while Bradley enjoyed chatting it up with his parents.

  “When is the wedding rehearsal, Bradley?”

  That was his mother, Lydia Robinson. She kept her maiden name since she taught under it for ten years as a Professor of Literature at the University of Chicago prior to marrying Bradley’s father, William “Bill” Morris. Lydia and William married much older than other couples at that time. They married in 1978 when they were well into their thirties. Lydia gave birth to Bradley a year later. Lydia has since retired, but William is still a practicing malpractice lawyer.

  They were the typical African-American prestigious married couple that loved their only son to pieces. They were such a vast and stomach-turning difference from the people who donated me to the world.

  “Next Wednesday,” Bradley answered.

  “Did you narrow down the wedding party?”

  That gave me another fucked up feeling. The only reason why the wedding party had to be “narrowed down” is because Bradley had way too many family and friends for potential groomsmen in comparison to my one option; Tricey. Bradley wanted a big wedding, when my limited amount of loved ones just couldn’t accommodate it. Therefore, we narrowed it down to the maid of honor, Tricey, his best man, who is also his best friend, Demarco, and two bridesmaids and groomsmen; four of his closest cousins and friends.

  It sickens me that the only people that are close enough to me to participate in and attend my wedding are Tricey, a few co-workers, and Tricey’s mom and sister. As Bradley and I were confirming the wedding party, I began to miss Vic because during our childhood I knew that when it came to a big day like this, only she and Tricey would be there to celebrate my future.

  “We got it together,” Bradley answered his mother with a smile.

  That’s why I loved him so much. He protected me without me even asking; answering his mother’s questions to keep me from having to explain.

  Then Lydia asked, “Lyric, sweetheart, have you found someone to give you away?”

  See? That’s what I mean by his parents not hesitating to bring up my issues. Honestly, I never planned on looking for someone to give me away. Bradley and I decided to simply skip that part of the ceremony, since obviously finding my hype ass daddy just to clean him up to look like a monkey in a suit was out of the question. The only other man in my life close enough to do such a thing is Bradley.

  Bradley’s parents have full knowledge of my parent’s addictions. At first, Bradley agreed with me that they shouldn’t know. But after Bradley popped the question, I was honest with his parents about the non-existent relationship that I have with my parents. Of course they had the same reaction that most have; that I should try to find them and help them. But I have helped those motherfuckers long enough by allowing them to steal from me in order to feed their habits and emotionally drain me because of their inability to be good parents.

  “I’ll give you away, sweetie,” his father whispered sweetly before I could answer.

  I reached over and patted his hand as I said, “That’s okay, Mr. Morris. Having someone to accept me makes me so happy that I don’t mind not having anyone to give me away.”

  After dinner I could no longer hide the frustrations and embarrassment that I’ve
felt all of my life when my parents and their absence come up.

  I was sad because here I was marrying the perfect man with the perfect parents and I was tainting his wedding with limited parties and rearrangements because I have no family. The tears started as I sat in the car watching Bradley walk his parents to the car. I felt so feeble and mortified. My past and my parents are something that I can’t change no matter how educated I become, no matter the career I choose, and despite the woman that I’ve grown into.

  When Bradley got in the car, he looked so remorseful for my tears. Immediately, I reached out for him and buried my cries in his chest. I wanted to be perfect for him. I wanted to provide him with everything as close to perfection as he wanted me to be. This wedding was a makeshift version of what he truly wanted, since the person he is marrying is far from faultless.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he told me. “I don’t know what she was thinking by bringing that up.”

  “This sucks. I can’t believe that I’m getting married and the only person in my wedding party is Tricey. I can’t find my parents just to tell them that I’m getting married. And even if I did find them, they’d be too fucking high to give a fuck!”

  Then the tears just continued to flow. A lot of pain that I’ve masked by ignoring my parents existence was coming to the surface as visions danced in my head of Bradley and his prestigious parents looking all too uncomfortable with the fact that their future wife and daughter-in-law has no one to give her away at the wedding.

  “Baby, whatever it is you think your life is missing, you are so sadly mistaken.”

  I just looked at him because I couldn’t understand how he could muster up the courage to say such a thing when it was so obvious what I was missing.

  “Would you rather have a bunch of cackling ass women who you can’t trust as friends, just so you can have bridesmaids, or would you rather have Tricey; a true friend who has been down for you damn near as long as you’ve lived? Would you rather have parents who you can’t trust, who you can’t invite over to your own house because you don’t know what they’ll steal, or would you rather have peace?”