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Authors: Niobia Bryant

BOOK: Show and Tell
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Chapter Forty-Eight
Moët
I
didn't have the heart to tell them the truth.
At the pajama party we sat up all night and talked. We revealed some secrets. We reminisced on the past. We talked about our hopes for the future.
We reconnected and it felt good.
But that whole night I thought of one last secret that I have.
“Latoya.”
Taquan's warm hands settle on my shoulders and turn me to face him. I tilt my face up for the kiss I know he is about to give me. Slow and easy never felt so good. We never felt so good.
I bring my hands up to his chest and the diamond solitaire on my left ring finger twinkles in my eyes. “I still can't believe we're engaged,” I admit softly against his lips.
He smiles as he presses my body close. “I can.”
I feel his dick get hard against my soft belly and I step back a bit to ease the temptation. We haven't done our little version of sex since my night at the altar. No more shades of gray on that one. “And this isn't because you're ready for the honeymoon?” I ask as I bring my hand down to enjoy the sight of my bling.
He puts his hand on my chin and tilts my head back. “This is because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to fill you up with my babies and make an even bigger family for Tiffany. I want to sleep with you in my bed every night and I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning. And yes, I want to be able to make love to you . . . really make love to you for the first time and every other time after that.”
“I love you, too, Taquan. I do. I love you so much,” I admit as I let him pull me back close to him.
I used to think I didn't deserve happiness but now I know I do. I deserve to have a man like Taquan love and cherish me. I deserve to have a beautiful daughter like Tiffany. I deserve to have good friends and a better relationship with my family.
I deserve it all.
I'm a good person and with HIM leading my life the best is yet to come.
Taquan's phone rings and he moves away from me to go and answer it. I sit down on the couch surrounded by the soft candlelight and the sweet aroma of roses as I reach for my purse and pull out my wallet. I tilt my head to the side and sigh as I look down at the ten-thousand-dollar check from Brookham Publications—the owners and publishers of
Star Gazette, Gossip Central
, and
Hip-Hop News
tabloids. A very generous payment for my “inside” scoop on Bones.
I've been carrying this check for weeks and it feels like a weight around my neck. I've been trying to decide if I should burn it or cash it. My intentions were not to make money but to give me some leverage to get the joint custody of my daughter.
At the time I did what I had to do.
I've made amends for that. I've asked for forgiveness and I firmly believe that He has blessed me with it.
With one last sigh, I grab a pen, sign the check, and fill out a deposit slip. The deed is done. Nothing I do will take away those headlines so I might as well start a nice college fund for
our
daughter.
I'm saved . . . not stupid.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Alizé
I
hate knowing that Cameron is over at his wife's house. He went straight there from the airport and didn't even come to me. Something about an emergency or some bullshit.
I guess with him being out of town for all this time I didn't have to deal with the wife bullshit. What if Serena changed her mind and wanted Cameron back? Would he let his obligation to her keep him in the marriage? Would he want me to be his mistress? Would he follow all the love he claims is in his heart for me and get the divorce?
I flip-flop on my bed and then reach for my phone to dial his number. It rings and then goes to voice mail.
Is she waiting with some scene of seduction for Cameron? Are they making love right now while I sat here like a dumb ass waiting for him?
God, I hate love.
I glance at the clock on the wall. He landed two hours ago and it would take him thirty minutes to get to their apartment in the city. If my estimate is right, he's been there with her for an hour and a half.
Oh God, is this what my life will become? Counting minutes, mapping destinations, estimating things to be sure he's not with her—his wife. I'm already starting to feel myself morph into my mama. And even she is finally getting on with her life. Took a younger man to knock Daddy out her head but at least she's moving the fuck on while I have stuck my dumb ass in the middle of a triangle.
If Cameron flips on me and goes back to his wife I will seriously whip his ass . . . especially since I passed on the summer internship at Braun, Weber to be with him. Right now I am really regretting that. I wonder if it's too late to call back and accept the offer.
Still, could I go through another semester of watching Cameron married to another woman? So maybe Braun, Weber is off limits whether Cameron and I make it or not.
So maybe my dumb ass is putting my ass before my brains. MBA, remember, M-B-A.
I roll off the bed and walk over to the window. I frown at the sight of a black Caddy rolling down the street pass the house. My heart stops and then comes back beating full force. Oh, hell no!
Is that Dr. Locke?
I jerk open the window and stick my head out to peer at the tag. JKL 234. It's not him and I should have known that because I haven't seen or heard from that crazy bastard since my little drop-in at his house. Still . . . sometimes I still feel like somebody's watching me.
My cell phone rings and I slam my head against the window as I jerk back inside. I barely have time to rub the bruise as I race across the room. It's Cameron. It's Cameron!
Breathe, bitch. Breathe
.
“Hello.” I'm so glad I don't sound desperate as hell.
“Come downstairs.”
I hate the relief I feel to know he is here and not there . . . with her. I dash out the room and I'm so anxious to get down there to him that I skip my little pause at the top of the stairs. I'm halfway down before I realize that my ass is
running
down the stairs.
I check myself and walk down the rest of the way as I smooth my hands over my skinny jeans. As soon as I step out onto the porch my mouth drops open to see a stretch limo parked out front. As I walk down the stairs a chauffeur hops out and walks around it to open the door for me.
I'm disappointed Cameron didn't come himself.
I smile up at the tall and bald chauffeur before I climb in.
“Hello, Monica.”
I look up and smile at the sight of Cameron sitting there looking at me like I am the last morsel of food on earth and he is STARVING. I fling myself into that limo and land lying across his lap. God, he looks good and smells good and feels good.
He tilts his head to the side to look down at me with those eyes I love. “Damn, I missed you,” he says in this deep voice.
My eyes drop to his lips as he lowers his head to kiss me but then my eyes shift to the hand on my hip and the sight of his wedding ring is enough to make me roll right off his lap.
He looks up with his lips still slightly puckered.
I climb right up onto the seat opposite him. “Listen, I've done some shit. But this thing between me and you is way bigger than any of that. Maybe another man, another time I wouldn't care . . . but with you I cannot play the mistress role. Not with you.”
“I've never asked you to,” he inserts.
“Then if you say you guys have decided it's over then why did you carry your ass over there today?” My eyes shift to his hand. “Why in the hell are you still wearing that ring? Cameron, are you trying to play me?”
His eyes harden as he leans back in his seat and looks at me. “You have been throwing yourself at me and then you have the nerve to ask me if I'm playing you? Come on, Monica, be for real.”
“I am.”
We sit there and just stare at each other as we sit in this limo that looks out of place for my neck of the hood.
“Monica, do you think I'm lying about my divorce? Do you think I want to keep you
and
Serena?”
“No, no, no. I don't think you're that kind of person. I don't. I'm just scared because I have never loved anyone like I love you.”
He reaches down and picks up his briefcase. I watch as he opens it and pulls out legal documents to hand to me. “Serena didn't call me over to the apartment. I went by there to give her these.”
I take them from him and I nod as I recognize they are divorce papers.
“I had my attorney draw them up while I was in Japan,” he says.
I feel the intensity of his eyes on me as I focus on the papers without even seeing the words. “They're not signed.”
Cameron releases a heavy breath as he wipes his mouth with his hands. “I went by there first to get them signed. To start the process so that you're not my mistress or we're not having an affair.”
“And she wouldn't sign them.” My voice sounds as dull and void of emotion as my soul right now. I look up and lock my eyes with his.
“No, she wouldn't,” he admitted, never once breaking our stare.
“So what does this mean?” I ask as I fling the damn papers across the limo to land on the seat beside him.
“It means that the divorce will not be easy but it will happen and not just because I want and love you but because I don't love her. It's not fair to lead her on anymore. I don't want to hurt her anymore either.”
“
So
. . . what does this mean?” I can't do the married man shit . . . not with Cameron. I just can't.
“It means that you and I either wait for the divorce if that makes you feel more comfortable or you let me file these papers and get the divorce going—contested or not—and we're together. I'm staying at a hotel until I get my own apartment. She knows about you and there's no hiding or sneaking and ducking. It's you and me. It's not the best situation. I know this but I love you and I know you love me.”
“Does she love you?”
He shrugs. “I don't know. I don't think so. I mean you're not the only issue in our marriage. I don't think we really knew each other and once we did I don't think either one of us was quite caught up in what we saw.”
“So why is she refusing the divorce when she asked for it?”
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
“Pride.”
I look at him as I struggle with my feelings. How badly do I want him? Is it worth the risk?
Even as he reaches across to grab my hands and pull me to him, I have so many reservations. I love him and I need him but what if this all blows up in my face? What if he flips and decides he wants his wife back and then I'm ass out? Do I want to fight another woman for
her
husband?
Damn, this sound like some real cliché bullshit.
“It's up to you, Monica. Are you going with me or staying?” he asks as his hands shift up to stroke my face as he places these sweet kisses on my lips.
“I'm going,” I whisper against his mouth.
He signals the driver and I feel the limo pull off. “I love you and everything is going to work out fine. Trust me.”
I love Cameron and I have to believe in him.
For now.
Chapter Fifty
Cristal
T
he last lesson I learned was not to depend on a man to provide you with things and I think I learned the lesson well, but in life you grow, you continue to live and you continue to learn. I am learning that I cannot depend on a man for my happiness either. Ultimately all the things I want and need in life are up to me. For me. By me.
I love Mohammed but now I know that despite my show of confidence or conceit I do not love myself enough. But thank God I am young and it is never too late to start the process.
No more dreams about wealthy parents coming to save me. No more hopes for a wealthy friend to show me a life I can only dream of. No more looking for someone else to give me the money to finance my dreams. No more looking to a man to make me feel special—which gives him the power to make me feel less than special.
Mohammed.
I sigh as I stand at my bedroom window and look down at him crossing the courtyard. He looks up suddenly, unexpectedly, and his eyes are on me in the window.
I miss him in my life but I know for now that I made the right choice. At least I hope I did.
I never went to our “reconciliation” date that night. I remember standing at the entrance of the restaurant dressed to impress and finesse with my eyes locked on him . . . but I felt reluctant to go to him. In that moment, I knew that things had changed.
See, deep down I felt like Mohammed should have trusted me to tell the truth about Sahad . . . the same way I trusted him that he told me the truth about Evette. Deep down even as I yearned for him that thought nagged at me. Ate at me. Did I want him so badly . . . so desperately . . . that I was willing to overlook him playing holierthan-thou with me? And then that one thought made me do some evaluating on myself.
I did not like what I saw. Things had to change.
Everything
had to change and change can only come with time. I knew that even as I dressed for the date and drove to the restaurant. And I knew it as my feet just wouldn't carry me forward to join him.
I love Mohammed but I need to learn to love me. I have read enough of those magazines to know I will never be happy until I do. I had Sahad and the money and it was not enough. Then I had Mohammed and the love and I still felt empty. I will always put money first because to me money and status make me feel important. That is sad.
Leaving the restaurant was not easy, but soon each step made me feel a little lighter.
For a few moments we just stand there looking at each other before he waves and then drops his head to continue on his way.
Life is a confusing bitch.
I wonder if I—or any of my friends—will get this adult thing down. When will the choices we make and the roads we take get any easier? I will be damned if I do not climb over one big-ass hill just to find out there is another waiting for me to climb.
Dom's reunion with her father has inspired me to find my own parents. I know my story may not have such a happy ending as hers but on this path to self-discovery I need to know it all—the good and the hellish bad. Maybe if I get rid of that dream about my parents I could move the fuck on.
All the magazines I read say life is so much clearer in your thirties, wiser in your forties, and damn near divine in your fifties. After looking at Alizé's mom flip out over her husband and Carolyn on the prowl for pussy, I do not know how right “they” are. Still, I am ready to start the journey to find out just who I am.
I turn away from the window and walk over to the end of my bed to my bright red Birkin bag (one of the few relics from my past with Sahad that he did not repossess). I reach in and pull out my address book. As I open it and flip through the pages everything in it and about it makes me feel weighed down again. It is an example of my fight of love versus money. I never once used it when I was with Mohammed but I did not have the clit to throw it away either.
I close it and tap it against my hand as I strut into my adjoining bath. I grab the chrome garbage pail and sit down on the padded toilet seat. Slowly I begin to tear the pages from the book. They flutter down into the can like wings.
Maybe I never destroyed it before because I thought I was giving it all up for Mohammed and then if he fucked up I had no way to rewind and start again. Well, now I am doing it for me. This is—was—nothing but a book of lying, using, and manipulating people.
I reach for the chrome lighter I use for my scented candles and lit the tip of the last page. I feel the heat against my face a little as the fire spreads. Wherever it touches becomes black ashes.
I drop the lit paper into the can and sit there with my face in my hands as it burns. All of it. The pictures. The contact info. The stars and dollar signs rating their sex and their money. The nicknames I would give them and then jot down in case I forgot because they were too many to remember.
All of it.
As it begins to die down I fill a glass with water and pour it into the can. The last of the fire sizzles before it is dashed out.
That address book was just more evidence that my ass is fucked-up big time.
I leave the bathroom and make my way back over to my bedroom window. Mohammed stops just before he climbs into his jeep to look up at me. He smiles a little and even from a distance I am touched by him. I know that all I have to do is bend a finger and he will leave that jeep and come to me here. Be near me. Inside me. Loving me. Making love to me.
But I just smile and wave to him.
Maybe one day when I get myself together.
Maybe.
Girl Talk
T
he four friends all lounged poolside, comfortable as the summer sun beat down on their bodies toasting their various shades of brown skin to a deeper shade. Renting a suite at their favorite New York hotel for the weekend had been the right decision.
Although Cristal was the only one
sans
a date, she felt good just being around her friends and their happiness. She found it amazing just how reflective she could be without a man to distract her. She pulled her body to an upright position in her strapless white Gucci bathing suit and wire-framed shades. “Ladies, where do you think you'll be in another five years?” she asked as she pushed her shades atop her head.
Moët smiled almost as brightly as the sun in her modest pink one-piece with a matching skirt. She looked over at Taquan as he talked with Cameron and Corey at the other end of the pool. “I will still be happily married as Mrs. Taquan Sanders, a supervisor at DYFS, with one more child.”
“Serving the Lord?” Dom joked as she turned over to lay on her stomach in her skimpy gold bikini that was more string than anything.
“Amen,” Moët said with a wink before she reached over to playfully swat Dom's curved behind. “What's your future, chick?”
Dom leaned up to look over at her friends with mischief in her eyes. “More money. More money. More money.”
“What about love, smart ass?” Cristal asks, nodding her head over at Corey.
Dom dropped her head, hiding a blush and a smile. “I gots plenty of that. It's money my ass is drawing a blank on.”
“Well, I will be the CEO of one of the country's top firms and married to the CEO of another,” Alizé boasted, as she reached down to pick up her glass of lemonade. “Cameron and I will be the ultimate black power couple dominating corporate America.”
She turned her head and watched Cameron over the rim of her glass. The doubt in her eyes was reflected in the depths of the liquid.
“What about you Miss Cristal?” Moët asked as she twisted her engagement ring on her finger.
“I know I asked the question but I do not know the answer. I do know things can only get better so whatever life has in store for me I am ready for it. I am looking forward to it.” She smiled at her girls as she reached down to pick up her glass of sparkling water. “A toast.”
Dom and Moët grabbed their glasses as well just as the men swam to the end of the pool where they sat.
“Hey, we want some of that,” Corey said as he climbed out of the water with ease to sit beside Dom.
Cameron and Taquan moved over by their women as well. The men all picked up their drinks as well.
Cristal shook off how deeply she missed Mohammed in that moment. “To the future.”
“To the future,” they all said in unison.

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