All Up In My Business (27 page)

“Don’t get it twisted, sistah. I’m just stopping through. Company’s coming over later.”

“Q?”

“Hell no! I found out why his ass went MIA—nucka had gonorrhea. Can you believe that shit?”

“I can’t believe he had it, and I can’t believe he told you!”

“He knew about it the night you met him, said he didn’t tell me because he was using protection. Then guilt started eating him up, and he told me to get checked. Luckily, I’m straight.”

“This feels like a warning to me, girl. You’d better be careful.”

“Girl, you don’t have to tell me twice. As much as I hated to, I dropped his ass. Back with this little tenderoni I met a while back. Looks like a younger version of T.I.”

“A younger version of the rapper? Who’s all of what, twenty-five?”

“T.I. is at least thirty years old. Young blood is twenty.”

“Damn! Kinda close to the cradle, don’t you think?”

Chardonnay shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “He’s five years older than I was when my stepfather took my cherry.”

Zoe had been shocked to learn that Chardonnay’s stepfather had raped her, and that Chardonnay’s mother called her
a liar when told what happened. This revelation helped Zoe understand some of her friend’s behavior—her negative outlook, her rampant marijuana smoking and multiple sex partners. It was a classic example of looking for love in all the wrong places and yet not seeing love when it stared her in the face. “I think you should call Bobby, tell him you want to go to a movie.”

“I’m done with him, Zoe. He’s getting too serious. The minute he deleted those pics from his cell phone, his days were numbered. And now his number’s up.” Chardonnay reached for her purse and stood. “See you later, chickie. Time to test out my new man.”

A
dam and Candace sat in the quiet of their den. He reached for the cup of tea that Candace offered and took a tentative sip. “This is good.”

“Thanks. You want a slice of pound cake? Diane made it.”

Adam nodded, and she soon handed him a saucer. They ate silently. Candace was grateful beyond measure for something so simple as enjoying quiet time with her husband. Almost three weeks had passed since she’d come back home, and she was still in the guest room. Slowly but surely, however, familiar routines returned: evenings spent talking, catching up on the day, Adam reading the paper, Candace reading a book or working a Sudoku puzzle. They’d eaten out a few times, joining Ace and Diane, and had taken in a Tyler Perry movie the previous Saturday. All traces of Quintin Bright, including the gonorrhea, had disappeared. Now Candace longed for the penis she once took for granted. There was nothing she wanted more than to make love to her husband. But she knew that would only happen when Adam made the first move. Candace sighed and sipped her tea.

“I’m worried about Toussaint,” Candace said into the silence. “I don’t like the way he looks, and I think he’s losing weight.”

Adam grunted and turned to the sports section of the newspaper. “Who’s this girl anyway?”

“Her name is Alexis. She’s the interior designer who worked on his house.”

“Humph. Looks like that’s not all she worked on.”

Candice smiled. “That’s the same thing Ace and Diane said.”

“I know the boy’s hurting. But I still hated to let Shyla go. She was a damn good marketing manager.”

“Yes, Adam, but she crossed the line.”

“But it wasn’t the first time.”

“She and Toussaint were together for what, a couple years?”

“Off and on. He swears they were never an item. But personally, I like the girl, thought she’d make a good daughter-in-law. But Toussaint was adamant—either her or him.”

“Like we’d choose …”

“Right, but still. I just hope the settlement keeps her from filing a lawsuit. If that happened, this could get ugly.”

“She’s bound by the document, which is sealed. If she breaks the terms and starts talking, then we’re the ones who will be suing.”

Adam took a couple sips from the cup Candace had given him. “A hundred thousand dollars, and from Toussaint’s personal finances. I hope this Alison—”

“Alexis.”

“Alexis. I hope she’s worth it.”

“If the redo she did of his place is any indication, she’s on the ball—a very talented woman.”

“Yes, evidently in more ways than one.”

“I invited him over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Think he’ll come?”

“I hope so, if for nothing more than to get a good meal. I’m so concerned …”

“First time the boy’s heart has been broken. He’ll come around.”

“Second time, actually,” Candace said, a bittersweet smile
accompany the words. “The first time was when he was thirteen.”

“That ain’t heartbreak then, Can. That’s just a hard knock.”

“Not when you’re thirteen,” Candace responded softly. “Your son thought life was over … for about a week. Then, as I remember, some new girl came to town, and the girl he said he’d never forget was soon forgotten.”

They laughed, and Candace rose to take the tray of empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Here, Can.” Adam lifted his cup for her. When she took it, their fingers touched. She felt a tingle and knew that he felt it too. Their eyes met and held, just for a second. Candace shivered.
Could it be? Is tonight the night I get to move back into the master suite?
A second later, the electricity was gone. Adam stood abruptly. “I’m going to shoot a few holes on the golf course,” he said, walking away from his wife and the moment. “Don’t wait up.”

Moments later, Adam was in his car headed to the golf course less than five minutes away. True, he’d needed the exercise, but even more he needed to get out of the house and clear his head. He could feel Candace tugging on him, knew she wanted him. He’d never paid attention to it before, Candace’s sex drive. Through the years, their sex had been average, but it had been regular. It went without saying that they screwed at least once a week. He’d thought that enough, had never dreamed that she was anything less than satisfied.

But now Adam’s manhood had been called into question. Ever since his run-in with Quintin, where he’d taken in the tall body, ripped chest, and bulging arm muscles, Adam had viewed himself critically, wondering if he measured up. Pride and sheer willpower prevented him from asking Candace the obvious: Was that punk bigger than him, better? Did he have more stamina?
Did he hit your spot? Do I?
These are the thoughts Adam pondered as he reached for his clubs and began
walking the familiar greens, which were tranquil and calming, like the breeze.

He’d just teed off when his phone rang.
Forgot to turn this thing off
. When he saw the caller ID, however, he was glad he hadn’t missed the call. “Jon, how you doing?”

“Fine, Adam. You?”

“Good, man, I’m doing good. I’ll be doing even better if you have some news for me.”

“Matter of fact, Adam, that’s why I called. That little situation you asked about? It’s been taken care of.”

“There’s an out-of-business sale going on?” Adam asked, in code.

“There will be by the end of the week.”

“Well, I always love a bargain, man. Thanks for letting me know.”

Adam turned off his phone and placed it in his bag. There was a lightness in his step as he walked to the first hole. He began to whistle, and anyone watching would have sworn his chest expanded. By the end of the week, a tiny bit of justice would have been delivered on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

It was after eleven when Adam pulled into the garage and placed his clubs in the storage unit. He’d run into a couple buddies and enjoyed a few drinks and laughs at the clubhouse. Even though tomorrow was a workday, Adam wasn’t ready to go to sleep. So after going to his room and taking a quick shower, he walked down the hall to the guest room at the end. He opened the door slowly and, after walking over to the bed, stared for a long moment at Candace, who slept peacefully.

I’ve loved you for a long time, girl. I still do
. He reached out, lightly touched her on the arm. “Candace.”

Candace stirred, her eyes fluttered, and then she was wide awake. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is it Toussaint?”

“No, it’s me,” Adam responded, reaching out and taking her hand. “Come to bed.”

T
oussaint lay on the couch in his living room, exhausted yet unable to sleep. It had been this way for a week, since coming back to the Ritz from a wonderful dinner in Marina del Rey to find Alexis fleeing their suite because his
wife
had shown up.

Where is she?
he wondered for the umpteenth time. After searching the area for her to no avail, Toussaint had blown up her cell phone, leaving messages until her mailbox was full. Instead of the extended vacation he’d planned, he’d flown back to Atlanta the next day, with the others, and had driven straight to Alexis’s loft. Not only was there no answer to his incessant knocking and doorbell ringing, but also her car wasn’t there, and a little detective work with the friendly older lady next door revealed that Alexis hadn’t been home in quite a while. Toussaint was beside himself.

Shyla was gone, out of the company and out of his life. But he felt no better. He wondered what he’d ever seen in her, to mess around with her for so long. Yes, she was smart and beautiful, but so were dozens of other women in Atlanta. Ego, he’d finally decided. Ego and greed. From the time he’d gotten his heart broken at thirteen, Toussaint had filled his coffers with a multiplicity of women, rarely dating less than two or three at a time. He labeled himself honorable because he’d never lied to
a woman, never told her that she was the only one or that he was faithful. To the contrary, he told them up front that he didn’t do serious, monogamous relationships, that he lived for the moment, for a good time. The women then decided whether they wanted to stay or go. Most stayed. In fact, they all had, until he tired of them, or they tired of waiting and moved on to a more available man.

Toussaint rolled off the couch and went into the kitchen.
When was the last time I ate?
He couldn’t remember. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d done what he’d done this week—take a hard, long look at himself in the mirror, examining his past and pondering his future.
I’m thirty-two years old, and what do I have to show for my life?
He was handsome, rich, had the trappings of success. But what did any of that matter at the end of the day if one wasn’t happy? He’d asked himself if he was really, truly happy with all that he owned and all that he managed. And the answer was no. Until he’d met Alexis, he hadn’t realized these things. Only with her had he experienced just what it meant to be not only happy, but also blissfully content. For once, his own satisfaction was not his primary concern. In the twenty-four hours of joy they’d shared in the hotel suite, her physical and emotional satisfaction was the priority, and his heart had soared knowing that his actions were the cause of her smile. He’d gotten past the defensive wall she’d built, a wall that he knew was erected as a result of the immense pain she’d felt over the loss of her father, the only man Toussaint felt she’d ever truly loved.
And you
. “Yes, and me.” Toussaint said these words matter-of-factly, not boastful, because he knew it to be true. She hadn’t said it, but no one could look at him the way she did, give of herself, to her very soul, the way she had, and not be in love with him.

“That’s why I’m not going to give up on us, Alexis. I’m not going to let you go.” That decision made, something in Toussaint shifted. It was as if he’d awoken from a dream. Suddenly
he realized he hadn’t showered, nor had he eaten. With a smile on his face, he headed to his master suite. He was going to get dressed, go to the restaurant, and let Oliver feed his body the way Alexis had fed his soul. And then, next week, he was going to find his woman.

“D
oes Victoria know how lucky she is?” Joyce asked as she massaged Malcolm’s tight shoulders. He was sitting in an oversized leather chair in her living room, only the second time he’d been to her home. The first time was a week ago, after having dinner at McCormick & Schmick’s. That night, Joyce was sure she was going to get some Livingston loving, but a call from Malcolm’s grandfather, of all people, interrupted the moment, and Malcolm had fled her home as if the devil were giving chase.

“Hmmm …,” Malcolm responded, his body becoming totally relaxed under Joyce’s expert ministrations. “Do you know how lucky the man is who is going to get you?” Malcolm knew he was navigating dangerous territory by coming to Joyce’s house. But he couldn’t help it. Somewhere between the harmless flirtations at the club, the listening sessions when he shared his dreams, and the counseling sessions when he gave her advice on growing her business, he’d developed feelings for her. He was having an affair, pure and simple. An emotional affair, but he was cheating nonetheless.

Joyce finished massaging Malcolm’s neck and then began planting tiny kisses along it. “Feel better?”

“Much.” Malcolm didn’t hesitate in reaching for Joyce’s
arm, leading her around the chair, and then pulling her down into his arms. The kiss was hot, urgent, tumultuous, his hands feeling her everywhere, his body yearning to do more. Joyce massaged his throbbing heat through his pants, helping him find the release he craved. She’d tried to go further last time, had reached for his zipper to feel his erection in her hand, but Malcolm had stopped her. The closest she would get was feeling him as she did now and helping him find release, before he cleaned up and went home to the wife who ignored him.

Victoria tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. There were none. She was miserable, pure and simple, searching for the love she’d felt at the first feelings of flutters in her stomach. Now, all she wanted was for the little crumb snatcher pressing down on all of her body parts to be out of her. As if in on cue, a tiny foot (or was it an elbow?) poked her insides. “Ow! Maria!”

Within seconds, the housekeeper was at her side. “Yes, ma’am? What can I get for you?”