Sweeter Than Honey

by Mary B. Morrison

  “Who are you talking to?” I heard a deep voice ask.

  “It’s Benito, honey.”

  My stepfather commanded like a general in the military, “What you want, boy?”

  “He wants to come home, honey,” I heard my mother say.

  “Then come. We need to talk to you face-to-face.”

  “You guys are too polite. Give me back the phone,” I heard my brother say. “Look, I’m on way to my Atlanta office for a few weeks but I’ll have my secretary wire you a thousand dollars today. Use it wisely.”

  Grant hung up before I could say Thanks, I’ll be there before you get back.

  A thousand dollars was enough to get a room for the night, and fly to Washington, D.C., first thing in the morning to see my mother, or maybe I’d surprise Tyra and my daughter instead. Tyra never could say no to me to my face.

  CHAPTER 38

  Lace

  Matching the address on Honey’s birth certificate to that on the white wooden-framed house I passed daily on my way to high school, I rang the bell, then took two steps backward.

  The door opened and the man in the gray suit who’d practically jumped out of his seat at LAS after insulting me stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, shit. I mean, hey, it’s you. You clean up very well. Here,” he said, reaching into his tailored pocket and handing me a ten-dollar bill.

  I stared at his face in disbelief. How could I have overlooked his dazzling green eyes, slick dark hair, and fair complexion, just like mine?

  “Are you Jean St. Thomas?” I asked, refusing to reach for the money.

  “Are you from the IRS?” he questioned in a charming kind of way.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Then yes, I am.”

  I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start. I expected some woman to come from behind him and ask who I was. That would’ve sped up my introduction and slowed the churning in my stomach.

  “Um, do you know a Rita St. Thomas?” I asked, shifting my weight from one stiletto to the other. Smoothing my golden honey pantsuit from my hips to my thighs, I took a tiny step backward, wanting to turn and run away before he answered.

  “Whatever Rita said is a lie. That woman has more issues than a black man on death row awaiting his last meal.”

  Moving closer to him, I spoke softly. “So I take it you know her very well.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Well enough to have had two children with her? Two daughters?”

  “Um, look, I can’t waste any more time with you. I’ve got things to do. You can take this ten dollars or leave it, but I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”

  Jean St. Thomas stepped inside, staring as if he were waiting for me to leave. It felt like my heart fell into my stomach. The bile percolated, decomposing my heart. That was stupid, Lace! You never should’ve come here. Every time you let down your guard and try to have feelings for someone you get fucked, Lace. You should’ve waited until he showed up at Honey’s funeral. That way he would’ve been more sentimental. Now you may never see him again. I stood there chastising myself. I knew I should’ve said something before he motioned to close the door, but the words got stuck in my throat as the tears swelled, blinding my vision.

  Click. The door shut.

  My chin dropped to my neck. I felt like that sixteen-year-old girl again stranded on the porch, except this time I had enough money to go wherever I wanted.

  Maybe I’d sit next to him at Honey’s funeral, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait on his steps much longer praying for Jean to have a change of heart.

  My cell phone rang. Easing on my Bluetooth, I answered somberly, “Yes.”

  “Lace, this is Sapphire. Where are you?”

  I exhaled, then said, “Flagstaff.”

  “Flagstaff? I need for you to meet me in Las Vegas by midnight. Not twelve-oh-one a.m. Midnight. I’ll call you back in an hour with the location.”

  Checking the time on my watch, I knew the only way I could make it to Vegas by midnight was to drive. I hated driving the long continuous S-curves up and down the mountains in the daytime and I couldn’t see shit at night.

  I took a deep breath, and then my stilettos clanked down the wooden stairs onto the sidewalk in front of Jean’s house. Gazing down the street, I could see the homeless people lined up outside the mission. I walked over to them, reached into my purse, and gave each of them a hundred dollar bill, then said, “It’s not what you are, it’s who you are.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Summer

  Bittersweet.

  That was my life summed up in one word. I imagined most folks, whether Christians or atheist, felt the same way. Everyone had a story to tell that was so unbelievable that it would make for a great movie. That’s what happened to me overnight.

  My front-page story of being somewhat forced into prostitution in order to help find my identical twin sister’s murderer, being drugged, kidnapped, raped—as the producer put it—then rescued, having brought my sister’s assailant to justice, made me an instant millionaire.

  Sitting on Sunny’s bed with my son—oh yeah, I forgot about that part of the movie when I had Valentino’s babies—I smiled knowing Sunny was pleased that Valentino was behind bars. Tears filled my eyes.

  “Mommy, you okay. Don’t cry. Nana said Auntie went on a trip.” AJ pointed out the window, then said, “To heaven.”

  These tears weren’t for Sunny. If the home pregnancy test I’d taken earlier was right, the tears I cried were for the baby growing inside me. And I prayed for God not to give me twins.

  Anthony always had his way with me. Looking up at the clouds, I thought maybe God had a bigger plan for Anthony Valentino James and I just couldn’t see it. But the things I couldn’t see, I could feel. Like the love in my heart for my son and his father.

  Shifting my focus, I thought about Sapphire making sure Sunny’s bank account read Summer Day. After I sold Sunny’s condo, I was moving my family to Texas or someplace else outside Nevada to a churchgoing community. It felt good knowing I could afford to buy my parents a new home and retire them comfortably. It also felt good belonging. Belonging to a Christian family with morals, principles, and values for one another and others helped me to see that my daddy was right.

  Quietly my son and I stared out the window. Nestling my cheek on his head, I rocked AJ in my arms. Just because Valentino was my son’s father didn’t automatically make Anthony entitled to see my son. What could Anthony have taught our child? How to be a pimp? How to disrespect women? How to sell drugs? How to get arrested? It was hard enough that one day I’d have to tell my babies that their daddy killed their aunt. Maybe I wouldn’t tell them. Like my daddy said, “Summer, what good would knowing do for AJ?” Daddy was going to have a fit whenever I told him about the baby inside me. Maybe I should stay here in Henderson until the baby was born.

  Tap. Tap.

  “Baby, it’s time to go.”

  “We’re coming, Mama,” I said, wearing Sunny’s charm bracelet on one wrist and mine on the other.

  Riding in the Town car to church—I never wanted to ride in a limo again—we sat in the back and I could feel Sunny’s spirit surrounding us, especially me.

  The driver double-parked in front of our church and it seemed like the entire community had come to say good-bye to Sunny. On a perfect day with the sun shining bright, I passed so many ladies of the evening with high heels and short skirts dressed like they’d come straight from work. But I didn’t care. After all I’d been through, all my sister had dealt with, there was no way I’d judge or condemn these women. Whatever spirit moved them to come to church was all right with God and it was all right with me.

  Sunny’s casket was closed. There was nothing the morticians could do to make her look pretty on the outside, but my sister would always be beautiful to me. Sitting in the front pew, I motioned for Lace and Sapphire to join our family because they were our family.

  CHAPTER 40
r />   Lace as Honey

  Summer was Sunny.

  Sitting in the front pew next to Summer, I knew that Sunny’s body was inside the white coffin but her spirit resonated throughout the church. Glancing over my shoulder I saw there was standing room only. I wondered how many people would pay their respects when I died. Would I end up like Honey with my body lying in a funeral home instead of at the altar? Would a preacher, a friend, or a stranger read my eulogy?

  Summer grasped my hand, interlocking her fingers between mine. How was it that a family who had every reason to hate me loved me and my family who had no reason to hate me disowned me?

  Before leaving Flagstaff, I tried to keep my promise to Honey. After Honey’s funeral, I asked that my nephew, Jean, be left in my custody.

  The words Rita had spoken to me left me speechless. “Your sorry-ass father is raising him.”

  Frowning, I’d questioned Rita, “You mean my biological father?”

  “Yeah, the one you saw earlier. I know y’all thought I was lying about y’all’s daddy, but he didn’t want the two of you or me,” Rita had said with sadness.

  I wasn’t sure if Rita was sad because Honey was dead, sad because my father didn’t love her after she’d given birth to two of his children, or both. I couldn’t make sense of whether Rita was lying about my dad raising my nephew or my father really didn’t want to meet me or she didn’t want me to take my nephew, but I had to move on. Never again would I return to Flagstaff under any circumstances.

  The real reason I allowed my thoughts to roam so much was that I didn’t want to cry at Sunny’s funeral. There’d be no sniffles. If I broke down in tears, someone would have to pick me up off the floor and carry me out along with Sunny. I felt responsible for Sunny’s death. If I hadn’t hired her, she’d be alive.

  I was so glad when Sunny’s funeral was over. Never in my life had I seen so many prostitutes in one place. I think Sunny’s death made a lot of prostitutes think about changing their ways before it was too late.

  Sapphire held my other hand and said, “It’s time for you to gather your girls and come with me.”

  When I’d told Sapphire about the airline tickets I’d bought to get my ladies out of Las Vegas, surprisingly Sapphire commended me. Sucking in air, I couldn’t exhale, wondering what Sapphire’s intentions were.

  “Relax.” She smiled. “It’s good news.”

  I hugged the Day family good-bye, signaled for my girls, and met Sapphire at a nearby casino in a private suite.

  Grasping my hand, Sapphire said, “Lace, let me speak to you in private.”

  Walking into the adjoining bedroom, I sat on the bed next to Sapphire and waited for her to speak.

  “Here, I want you to take this cashier’s check and do something good. Take those airline tickets, get out of Las Vegas, and take all of those ladies in the next room with you.”

  Ladies. Not bitches, not whores, not prostitutes, not call girls, and never again escorts. Ladies. I blinked in disbelief, staring at the dollar amount on the cashier’s check.

  “Don’t ask where it came from. Just know that you deserve it. And promise me you’ll pay it forward,” Sapphire said.

  “Come with me,” I said. “We can all get out of Sin City together.”

  Sapphire laughed. “Were you at the same church I was at?” Then she became serious. “Maybe when I retire, but right now I’m needed in Las Vegas.”

  “Well, just remember my house is your home anytime. No questions asked.”

  Sapphire stood, waved, and was gone like the wind as she disappeared out of the side door.

  Sapphire’s suggestion that I take my ladies reinforced that I’d done the right thing. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out one-way airline tickets for each of my ladies. “I’m leaving. Whoever wants a job can join me. A real job with wonderful benefits. There will be no more selling pussy or sucking dicks to make a living.”

  Onyx asked, “Then what exactly will we do if we follow you to—” She read her ticket, then said, “Atlanta, Georgia.”

  “Your first responsibility is to get yourselves together mentally, physically, and spiritually. Then your job will become to help other women get their lives in order.”

  Starlet spoke up, “So we can make the same amount of money that we made every night having sex?”

  “No, definitely not. Don’t be ridiculous. Working for me, you can make even more money. But you’ve got to earn it.”

  All of the ladies started mumbling.

  Girl number two asked, “You think she’s serious?”

  Three replied, “I hope so, but I don’t know if we can trust her.”

  I wasn’t trying to convince any of them. What I was offering was an opportunity for each of them start over. “I’ve got a plane to catch. Y’all have my number.”

  Strutting out of the casino with a full heart and a fat wallet, I clicked my stilettos and yelled, “Yes!”

  CHAPTER 41

  Lace as Honey

  Prostitution wasn’t a job. Prostitution was a lifestyle. On the inside I was scared. I knew in my heart what I was doing was right, but what if I failed these ladies? Was I crazy asking them to leave their families, friends, environment, homes, and in Onyx’s case, her husband? What if I couldn’t deliver them from the land of easy money? Well, with a fifty-million-dollar cashier’s check in my purse, I couldn’t say I couldn’t afford to.

  “Good afternoon,” the flight attendant said as I boarded my flight to Atlanta.

  From this day forward, when any woman greeted me I’d smile. My lips parted, then curved as I replied, “Good afternoon,” before taking my seat in first class.

  Reflecting on things that had happened over the last year made me wanna laugh, cry, and scream out loud.

  “Would you like something to drink?” the attendant asked.

  “Yes, champagne, please.” It was a little too early for hard liquor, but once I settled in my hotel room in Atlanta I was definitely having a real drink.

  Sipping from the plastic flute, I chuckled, wondering where was Benito. I could only imagine what Sapphire had done to him, but oddly she hadn’t mentioned him in any of our conversations.

  No, I realized Benito was never the man for me. His insecurities and jealousies were destined to break us up. A man who was envious of his woman was a dangerous man. Maybe now Benito would get his life together, get a job, and not live off some other woman.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice resounded.

  Looking up, I instantly batted my eyes and smiled. “Certainly.”

  The fine-ass man who’d just sat next to me made my pussy pucker when he said, “Oh my. You are strikingly beautiful. Are those your natural color eyes?”

  Was I blushing? When was the last time I’d taken notice of a man? Had sex with a man? Valentino’s face popped into view and I immediately shoved him out of mind, knowing that if Atlanta was this handsome man’s final destination, my next orgasms were a few hours away.

  I focused on his tailor-made suit and shirt, platinum cuff links without diamonds, immaculate shoes, his large fingers with manicured nails, and big feet. His face was smooth and his teeth appeared whiter than his skin when he smiled and asked, “Where’re you headed?”

  “I’m relocating to Atlanta.”

  He nodded as if giving me an approval I didn’t need. “You have plans for dinner tonight?”

  I do now. Casually I said, “I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m supposed to meet with a Realtor to discuss representation. You have a number where I can reach you?”

  He smiled again, then said, “We’ll get to that in a moment. I want to continue our conversation. So, tell me, what do you do for a living?”

  Okay, casually offering to take me to dinner, not readily giving me his number or his card, what was this man interested in? Shit! I hadn’t expected to answer that question so soon. Confidently I answered, “I own a consulting firm.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Sweeter tha
n Honey” rolled off my tongue like sugar.

  For the first time, I dreamt aloud, sharing all the wonderful ways my new company would help women. Our flight arrived in Atlanta and he still hadn’t given me his number.

  “So, where’re you staying?” he asked.

  “Downtown, and you?”

  “I own a place in Buckhead. Here’s my card. Let me know if you’re available for dinner. I can have my driver pick you up. Nice talking with you.” He paused, extending his hand.

  I smiled, then read, “Real estate developer, huh? You should’ve told me earlier.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “I never mix business with pleasure.”

  Squeezing his hand, I said, “I’m Honey. Honey Thomas,” realizing out of all the information we’d exchanged I hadn’t told him my name.

  His cheeks rose high and I saw the most amazing smile in his eyes. “I think you need to change the name of your business. Nothing can be sweeter than Honey. I’m Grant. Grant Hill.”

  Well, I knew that from the card, but what I couldn’t determine was if he was black, white, or Italian, and I didn’t care. All I knew was I was getting some dick tonight and I was going to love living in Atlanta.

  EPILOGUE

  Lace as Honey

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Some will say, “I ain’t mad at her.” Others will mumble, “She did what she had to.” And some would swear, “She should rot in jail. Nah, girl, forget jail, she should burn in hell for what she’s done.”

  But if one were to ask me, I’d respond, “I was tired of men abusing women.”

  I also realized I couldn’t help women who didn’t want help. The ones who’d go back to their abusive lovers could stay. And while that may have seemed cold, truth was there were too many women who seriously wanted to get out of life-threatening situations. Those were the ones I’d commit to.