Sixty-Nine (2 page)

Magnolia Butler
—Always the bridesmaid who, once again, picked a freaky serial cheater who just can’t seem to recognize a good woman when
he sees one, until it’s too late.

Rebe Palo-Richardson
—Tragically scorned most of her life, she’s a former NFL wife who refused to swing from the chandelier when she was married,
but now she’s swinging from a pole.

Darla Humphrey-Clark
—A widow with a dream and a self-proclaimed celibacy vow, whose mind won’t let her get past the belief that feeling good now
is both a betrayal and a sin.

S
he really did love her best friends, but less than twenty years ago she slept with one of her best friends’ man and got pregnant.

Magnolia Butler, Rebe Palo, and Darla Humphrey were the epitome of BFF’s way before the term
BFF
ever came into popularity. In fact, they were so tight and so meant to be, they were all born in 1969, Magnolia and Darla
on January 1, and Rebe on February 14.

Magnolia and Darla were juniors at Miami Dade College in Miami, Florida, and Rebe was a sophomore, since she graduated from
high school a year late. They no longer lived in dorms. Magnolia and Darla were roommates in a small two-bedroom apartment
down the street from campus. Rebe lived less than a mile away in a rented house with her high school sweetheart, Trent. They
had a three-year-old girl together named Trinity, yet still managed to maneuver through the rigors of college life, even though
their relationship was rocky.

Magnolia and Darla were not only childless, which was just how each of them wanted it to be, but they were still virgins.
Magnolia, who was Trinity’s godmother, just hadn’t made the right connection with any of the guys she’d met so far. Not enough
to share her body with anyway. So she decided to wait. Darla made a serious connection and was saving herself for marriage.
She was dating a fellow student who was a starting pitcher on the college’s baseball team, named Aaron Clark, and Darla and
Aaron were set to be married the summer after they graduated. They’d both agreed to wait, postpone consummating their relationship,
just to make sure the night was extra special. Aaron had been around the block a few times, but Darla, who was raised with
Christian values by conservative parents, witnessed every girl in her family get pregnant by the time they were sixteen. She
wanted to be different. Not only did she want it, but her parents required it. “Save yourself for marriage. A man wants a
virtuous woman. Sex is not recreational. Sex is between a husband and a wife. No man will want you if you’re sullied. Not
as a wife anyway. Sex before marriage is a sin.” And Darla believed it. It was important to her to honor those puritanical
values in the name of her mother, who passed away in a car accident while driving to pick Darla up when Darla was a high school
freshman. Darla’s father vowed to never remarry. Darla had witnessed a true-love example, up front and in living color. And
she wanted the same. But fate, as crazy as it can be, had other plans.

Magnolia was the child of a mistress to a married man. She never met her father. Her mother had been his chick-on-the-side
before getting pregnant. When she broke the news to him, he simply stopped seeing her. One night when Magnolia was a baby,
her mother went out to have a final conversation with her married lover, leaving Magnolia alone. She didn’t come back. She
had suffered a nervous breakdown in a hotel room where they’d met to talk, and when he left, Magnolia’s mother flipped out
and tried to kill herself by jumping off a fifth-floor balcony. The next morning, when Magnolia’s grandparents found out,
they rushed to baby Magnolia and took her in, ending up being the only mother and father she’d ever know. Her mother had been
a drifter since then. And Magnolia made no bones about telling everyone she could care less about her mom. Nothing else mattered
other than making sure she never turned out to be like June Butler.

Born in Maui, Rebe Palo, half-black and half-Hawaiian, and her family moved to Ocala, Florida, when she was four. She grew
up in a not-so-nice neighborhood, where her older brother was in and out of what his mother called gangs. Her mom and dad
divorced when she was seven. Her dad ran off, being a rolling stone enjoying his newfound freedom, so Rebe and her brother
were raised by her black mother who was so overbearing and bossy, she could have turned the tide on Donald Trump and fired
him. Rebe dealt with watching her temperamental mother always preaching what she never practiced, so much so that her mother
charmed her way into becoming pastor at a small Baptist church by the time Rebe was twelve. Five years later, Rebe got pregnant,
but by then, her whole life had changed. By then, Rebe and her brother would be victims, and her life would never be the same.

By Magnolia and Darla’s graduation day nearly two years in the future, it would turn out that Rebe and her baby’s daddy broke
up after she accused him of being an addict, and he spread rumors that she was not only crazy, but so moody he’d almost have
to rape her to get her to have sex with him.

Darla and Aaron would end up taking a spring-break cruise to the Bahamas to elope before their senior year just so they could
finally have sex.

And Magnolia would date a hot Italian guy her senior year named Gabe Pastore. That is, until she’d catch him cheating on her
in the backseat of his car at a drive-in movie. Magnolia had followed him. She always was the snoop.

During that year, one of them would end up pregnant.

And would have an abortion.

Yet her BFF’s would never know about it.

Or maybe they would.

And the father was either Rebe’s man, Trent, who’d die from a drug overdose four years later; Darla’s man, Aaron, who’d have
a fatal heart attack in 2004; or Magnolia’s ex, Gabe, who ended up marrying a well-known porn actress in Hollywood.

One of them was the father of an innocent baby that never ever had a chance at this thing called life.

A life that has a funny way of paying people back.

Payback that in an instant would flip these best friends’ worlds from a six to a nine by the time they were forty, coming
to a literal head all in the name of sex.

I
t had been the coldest winter in ten years in Miami, though the temperatures were on a slight upswing lately. The sharp, beachfront
chill that lingered in the Florida air on the outside was still no match for the three hot girlfriends who’d checked their
coats, sporting their sexy, skimpy evening wear for a celebration of
out with the old and in with the new
, like no other year of their lives. It was a recognition of necessary crossroads.

Divorcée Rebe Palo-Richardson said, with a millisecond smirk on her chocolate face, the face she got from her mother, “Girl,
on my wedding night with Randall, I started my damn period. That should’ve been a definite warning sign that my marriage would
not last through the ebb and flow, so to speak, of holy matrimony.” Her micro-braided head rolled toward the two best friends
she’d known since high school. She tried to speak at a level just above the blaring celebratory music in the background.

She sat on the contemporary purple leather stool at the fully packed bar with her long, bare legs crossed like a prima ballerina.
Her stately gams, formed from her days as a dancer, extended far beyond the hem of her little black dress. A scripted tattoo
was etched along her right ankle, one of a few that served as life-messages upon her sexy body. Darla Humphrey, now Darla
Clark, sat on the other end, and Magnolia Butler was in the middle.

The trendy hotspot, called LIV, inside the Fontainebleau Hotel on the Miami Beach strip, was deliciously decorated in pale
blues and lavender, with dark wood bar tables, draped private VIP rooms, and two mirrored, elongated bars. Oversized plasma
TVs graced every wall, showing last-minute countdowns from most major cities.

Magnolia and Darla both lived nearby in Miami Beach. Rebe lived in Coconut Grove.

It was New Year’s Eve.

The well-promoted, well-attended bash was wall-to-wall packed.

The sounds of Whitney Houston’s “Exhale” serenaded the disco-like, neon-lit room. The soft mixture of pink and blue LED flashing-light
designs bounced along the walls and from the ceiling. The glass dance floor was a pastel menagerie of light grids that grooved
to the beat of the popular R&B music.

And it was 11:46 p.m.

“What? So after that you didn’t have sex because of your monthly visitor?” Extra thick and curvy Darla, a widow, leaned toward
her friends with her light brown, precision-cut hair with bangs that covered her high forehead. She wore platinum hoop earrings,
and a liquid silver minidress, looking like a lady disco ball. She picked up her fluted champagne glass and took a tiny sip
of the yellow label Brut, extending her manicured pinky as she swallowed. And she still wore her princess cut diamond wedding
ring on her ring finger.

Rebe scrunched up her nose, and her smoky eyes squinted like a foul wind had blown by. “Ewwww, yes, of course it stopped me,”
she said, squirming in her seat.

“All I know is he turned out to be a player, just like all the rest.” Magnolia knew all too well from the way Randall would
always look at her, checking her out whenever Rebe would turn her back. She frowned like she took his infidelities personally,
and gulped her vodka and peach schnapps. Her scarlet nails matched her knee-length strapless chiffon dress. Her gold slingbacks
were high and sexy.

Darla added, “There are ways to slow down the flow. That’s all I’m saying. Even I know that. I mean, it was your honeymoon.”

Rebe paused with a hold-up look for them both. “Oh, you, the one who hasn’t had sex in what, six years? I can’t believe you’ve
got the nerve to be giving me tips on anything.” She gave a snarl.

Darla raised her threaded brows. “It’s been five years, thank you very much, and I’m proud of it.” She gave a long blink.
“Anyway, you’re the one who started this topic of conversation, not me.”

“Yeah, well I wish I hadn’t. I was just trying to laugh off why my marriage may have failed, that’s all. Feeling a little
reflective.” Rebe twisted her generous lips and raised her glass, tipping a swallow of Perrier water into her mouth.

Magnolia kept her hands on her cocktail glass. “Hell, at least you had a wedding night. I think my man-picker is broken. It
has been as long as I can remember. And it’s probably a good guess that I’ll never find out what it’s like to even have a
wedding night. I mean, after all, thirty-nine will be gone in, ah,” Magnolia peeked at her diamond watch, “twelve minutes
and counting.”

Darla, a dental technician, tilted her head toward Magnolia as her lips gave way to her to-die-for bleached teeth. “Me too,
girl. I’ll be saying good-bye to thirty-nine right along with ya.”

Rebe added, “I’m right behind both of you. Remember when we were younger? We thought forty was damn near elderly. I mean,
all of our parents were the very age we are now.” She thought back for a minute. “Tell me, where in the hell did the time
go? My Lord.” She shook her head and gave Magnolia a reflective gaze.

Magnolia said, “That’s true, huh? Back in the late eighties in college we just swore by now we’d have all the answers. Was
that more than two decades ago already?”

Rebe nodded. “Yes, it was.” Her eyes shifted to Darla. “And then you and Aaron ran off and eloped. You came back married and
I was like, excuse you.”

Darla ran her fingertips along the back of her closely tapered neckline. Her full face showed her displeasure. “Oh please.
Don’t bring him up. Not tonight.”

Magnolia spoke right up, “Oh Darla, we love you. I know it’s been five years since he passed, but you had a solid marriage
and a man who loved you. A faithful man. My relationship with Neal lasted a little more than one damn year before he got with
old ghetto girl. Aaron loved you for you, Darla. He told me that himself. And for that, you’re blessed.”

Darla’s shoulders dipped. She leaned her full-figured body back and then forward, and exhaled. “I do miss him. Lord knows
I do. But one day, I’m gonna need to move on and get me someone, or should I say, get me some, period.” She looked like she
was almost joking.

Rebe gave a look of wonder. “But Darla, come on now. I still can’t believe you haven’t had even one dick in you in all that
time. Not a one?” She held up a solo index finger.

“No. And?” Darla waited like she was prepared for battle.

“And, how do you do it?” Rebe asked.

“I mind my own damn business, that’s what I do. Just like you don’t want us all up in your stuff.” She cut her eyes from Rebe
to Magnolia. “And we know you get more dick than all the ladies up in this club tonight put together. Fast ass.”

Magnolia gave a half-gasp and put her hand to her chest. “Me? Oh please. Talk about minding someone’s business. So now I’m
the slut? Where’d that come from? All because Rebe shut down the pussy on her wedding night.”

Rebe shook her head and managed a snicker.

Darla put her hand up. “I’m just saying. I mean honestly, you’ve been in more relationships than we have.”

“I have. Yeah. You’re right. But don’t trip just because I can catch, now. That hasn’t been the problem, catching. But damn,
if I’m so successful in the bedroom, then why did Neal leave my ass? A man who wasn’t even that good in bed anyway.” Magnolia
readjusted her long black ponytail, which hung down the middle of her back. Her scent was her usual gardenia. It was always
sprayed over the cherry ladybug tattoo on her neck.

Rebe said, “I did hear on television that it’s not only about how much sex you have, but also what kind of sex you have that
matters. And I’m not trying to say I’m any expert, because I am surely not.” Rebe’s eyes were suddenly distracted by nearby
testosterone. “They said we women should get off our backs and get on our knees, so to speak. It’s about opening our minds
and our legs. I mean, I remember they talked about not only having safe sex, but having great sex, too.”

Darla stared squarely at Rebe. “Did you hear about that before or after you got stingy on your own honeymoon?”

Rebe kept her sights on the vision of a hunk behind Darla’s back, a few barstools away. “Very funny,” she said without even
a snicker. “I’m just saying, Randall cheated on me just like Neal cheated on you, Magnolia. And when Randall left, he left
me and my daughter. Trinity took that hard, especially after not having a father figure since her dad died. So, like I said,
I know how you feel.” Rebe uncrossed her legs and offered a demure smile, but not to Magnolia.

Darla added, “I know one thing. I don’t care what those women out there are doing in this crazy-ass world nowadays. I’m not
about to die over a moment of pleasure. I’m sorry but I’ve just gotta be me.”

Rebe batted her eyes and inched her sights back to her buddies. “Yeah, but think about it. Haven’t you ever wondered what
it would be like to just totally let go and freak out like there’s no tomorrow? To have sex with a stranger or have an orgy
or buy all the sex toys you can and just screw yourself all night long? Haven’t you even been the least bit curious? Come
on.”

Magnolia said immediately, “Not even.”

Rebe sucked her tongue. “Please. Yes you have.”

“Orgy. Hell no. Masturbate all night, maybe.” Magnolia took a drink, fighting her urge to laugh at herself.

Rebe eyed the view behind Darla again. Her cheeks began to blush. “Well heck, I’ll be the first one to break beyond my boundaries.
Shit, I might just walk right up to him,” she nodded toward the man she’d been eyeing and then looked down toward her water
glass, “and ask him to take me home and fuck me like the new freak I need to be. Like he’s mad about slavery and shit. I mean
do me like it’s 1999, instead of 2009. Take me like I’m the last screw of his life and he’s about to get hit by a Mack truck
in the morning.” She shook her brain, and her torso like she had shivers running up and down the slit of her vagina.

Darla gave Rebe a side angle stare and turned around to see a big man, very long, like he could be maybe six-seven if he stood,
with a low-cut fade, perfect goatee, and light skin, deep dimple in his chin, eyeing down Rebe like she was the last corner
of grandma’s secret recipe macaroni and cheese on Thanksgiving Day. “Damn,” she said, turning back around to give Rebe a high
five with her eyes.

Magnolia glanced behind Darla, too. “Yeah, right. You do that. And then, and only then, I
will
have an orgy,” she said with sarcasm.

“No, you won’t,” Rebe said as a dare.

Magnolia shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have to worry about a damn orgy because you’re not about to say one single solitary
thing to that man. Not darling Rebe. And yes, he is a hunk now. I will say that. Oh, yes I will.”

Rebe straightened her back. “Yeah, well, I guess you really don’t know me like you think you do.”

“Please. You don’t know yourself.” Magnolia looked assured.

Rebe said, “Maybe none of us knows ourselves the way we should.” She turned her body all the way toward them and re-crossed
her legs. “I’ll tell you what. Dare. How about for 2009 we turn up our libidos and make some real resolutions? Some sexual
resolutions. Something different. How about if we go into the new year shattering our beliefs about sex? Living our sexy dreams,
out loud.” She used her hands to assist her words. “I just think we’ve set these boundaries for ourselves, and maybe they’ve
limited our ability to really experience the sexual side of us. I mean, these comfort zones are getting tired if you ask me.
Honestly, I’ve had enough of this frigid adulthood. I’ve never been excited about sex much anyway, but for some reason lately,
I’ll be honest with you, I’m on fire.” Eyes agreeing with her words, she circled the rim of her glass with her fingertip,
like moonshine was inside versus sparkling water. Darla looked at her like she was on something.

Rebe continued, “I don’t know about you two, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. We are not getting any younger. And
physically, I can see myself starting to age.” She pointed under her eyes. “Right around here. Like little crow’s-feet, and
dark circles.”

“I don’t see anything,” Magnolia said, squinting her eyes to see.

“Yeah, well I do. First of all, I think I’m perimenopausal. But in spite of that, I’m about to cross over the erotic line
and dive off the edge for real. I’m about to say good-bye to my inhibitions. Hell, it’s a new year.” She leaned closer toward
them. “I say we lighten up like we should’ve twenty years ago.” She sipped her water.

Darla shook her head. “Rebe, girl, please. We’re not twenty any more. We can’t go back.”

“Who says?”

Magnolia reminded her, “We’re forty. Hello.” Her eyes said
hello
, too. “Our biological clocks are ticking just like yours. I don’t even have a kid, you do. Hell, I’ve never even been married.
But I’ve got the bridesmaid thing down, between you, about two cousins, and one of my old co-workers. Enough.”

Rebe smirked and glanced up at the time on the television screen over the bar. “Hold up now. We’re not forty yet. And for
the next five minutes, I’m about to dare even myself and open my mind in a way I’ve never done before. I’m about to take back
my sexual freedom, and my first step is—get ready for this—I’m gonna start stripping.”