Double Dippin' (33 page)

“So, what did you say?” Shane asked in a calm tone while wearing an impassive expression.

“Man, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what you had told her.”

“I didn’t tell her much of nothing. I came home a little late. She was trippin’ and so in order to calm her down, I had to come up with something. I told her I was out doing a favor for you.”

Disgust creased Tariq’s face into a scowl. “Why you gotta put me in the middle of your domestic problems. Now Janelle thinks I’m up to something with you.”

“My bad. Sorry, man. But look, next time Kapri comes at you trying to get some information, just cover for me. You know how we do. Make up some shit. As far as Kapri’s concerned, your mouth is a prayer book. This pregnancy is making her crazy, man. So please, for my sake, can you cover for me sometimes?”

Tariq didn’t look pleased with the position Shane was putting him in, but reluctantly agreed. “I gotchu, but man, you gotta try to do better. Kapri’s six months pregnant, she shouldn’t be worrying about where you are all the time. You should be spending more time at home with her, especially now. Besides, man—I hate lying to Kapri.”

“I don’t need no lecture, bro,” Shane said as he walked away from his brother and sauntered toward the Rose moving van. The crew was preparing for a moving job in the local vicinity, but Shane wished they were going out of town. He needed some excitement. Married life was not turning out to be the safety net he’d imagined. Kapri was too clingy. He missed Misty and Brick. He missed his old life.

He felt stuck and he hated the feeling.

During most moves, the same team that picked up the furniture delivered it to its final destination. But in this case, the drivers who had picked up the furniture from Arlington, Virginia, were taking on another job. Tariq was going out of town on a job while Shane and the crew he was working with for the day were assigned to the task of unpacking and hauling the furniture from Virginia into a home in Villanova, Pennsylvania.

When Shane’s crew arrived in Villanova, they were greeted by a leggy brunette who introduced herself as Lisa McLaurin. “Please be careful with that,” she said. Lisa wore a lime-green silk robe and was sipping something alcoholic at eight in the morning.

Since Shane carried a lightweight box that didn’t test his endurance, he looked around to see who the lady was talking to.

“That has a very fragile and extremely valuable item inside,” she said, pointing to the box. “Just be careful with it.”

Shane felt an instant dislike for the snotty broad. “Where should I put it?”

“Oh, take it upstairs. First bedroom at the top of the stairs. There’s no furniture up there, so place it—very carefully—on the top shelf in the closet. If you’re a good boy, I’ll make you a Mimosa when you’re done.”

Shane sucked his teeth and muttered under his breath, “What the fuck is a Mimosa?” Whatever it was, he damn sure didn’t want it. He wanted his tip in the form of paper. Green paper. Once he was upstairs and out of view, Shane was curious about the contents in the box. Unable to resist, Shane turned the box back and forth, trying to figure out what was inside. Unable to ascertain the contents by the sound, he gave it a hard shake and heard something shatter.
Oops!

Ever so gently, he put it on the closet shelf and trotted down the stairs, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He added a whistle to further declare his cheerful disposition and most important, he hoped his whistle as he worked would proclaim his innocence if the snotty broad decided to check the box and accuse him of breaking whatever the fuck was inside.

An hour later, when the box and its precious contents were no longer lingering in his mind, Shane and the crew heard an ear-piercing screech.

“Oh my God, I told that bastard to be careful!” Lisa screamed at the top of her lungs.

Shane, realizing the gig was up, wanted to run, but instead he climbed the stairs to face the music like a man.

Crying pathetically, Lisa shook the rattling box at him. “You broke a family heirloom. A priceless figurine; it belonged to my husband’s mother. He’s going to be inconsolable.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Your company’s going to have to pay for this, you know,” she said coldly as she dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Then, in an instant, she turned on the tears again.

Shane didn’t know how to get out of this mess. His wife was pregnant; he needed his job. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. Maybe we could put it back together with some Krazy Glue?”

“Krazy Glue!” she shrieked. Lisa’s face contorted horribly before she began to wail.

Trying to quiet her before she alerted the other men, Shane asked, “What can I do? Do you need some extra work, you know, so I can make up for it? Maybe I could clean up or something after we move all your furniture in the house.”

She looked at him through eyes that had become angry slits. “How can extra labor make up for a priceless family heirloom? I’m afraid to even open
this.” She shook the box again. The broken pieces made a horrible clattering sound.

Shane shrugged helplessly. Lisa wept into her hands and then fell against Shane, shaking and crying like it was the end of the world. Not knowing what to do, he patted her back, hoping that a show of sympathy would keep her mouth shut and get him off the hook. He couldn’t afford to get fired. Her shoulders heaved, he patted faster. And then she pulled away. Shane noticed that the sash of her robe had become undone. Her robe fell open, revealing an oyster-colored thong and strapless bra. Considering the mess of trouble he’d gotten himself in, it surprised him when he inexplicably found himself aroused by the tan lines on the woman’s shoulders.

Lowering the distraught woman onto the plush Persian rug, Shane consoled her with his fingers, his mouth—his dick.

“Oh my God, it’s true,” she said, fondling his thickened manhood. “You black guys really are hung like fucking horses. This is unbelievable. I can’t believe I’m making it with a black stud.”

As long as she was happy and willing to keep quiet about the family heirloom, Shane didn’t mind giving her what she wanted. “Oh my God!” She screamed as he thrust deeply. “I can’t get enough of this. Don’t stop; don’t stop!”

He didn’t stop, but after a while he started slowing down. “Did you cum yet?” he asked hopefully.

“No! Don’t stop, dammit, make me cum.”

Shane wondered how he’d gotten himself into such an awful situation. He was tired and embarrassed, thinking that by now his crew noticed his absence and were all standing outside with their ears pressed against the bedroom door. He wished she wasn’t so loud. Damn, why didn’t this goddamn bitch hurry up and cum? Once she reached a climax, he’d feel like his debt was paid in full, he could get back to work and then go the hell on home without the fear of employment termination hanging over his head.

After such a disastrous day, being with Kapri was going to feel like a slice of heaven and listening to his wife’s whining-ass voice would be music to his ears.

“Ram it in me, stud. Ram it hard.”

Shane wanted to ram his fist in her fucking mouth, but instead he complied
and rammed and rammed, but no amount of ramming was hard enough. “Yo, I’m tired; I can’t do no more.”

“Oh no? Some stud you turned out to be…get the fuck out!”

Shane winced, but for the sake of his livelihood, he took the verbal abuse.

“Tell that short guy with the muscles to come up here. And tell him to hurry up.”

Quickly getting his clothes back on, Shane was delighted to pass the torch. “Yo Mac, the lady upstairs wants to see you ’bout somethin’,” Shane said to the short, muscular man named Mac.

After the Villanova job, the moving crew rode home in virtual silence. The woman of the house, Lisa McLaurin, had engaged in a sexual tryst of marathon proportions with each member of the four-man work crew. After sapping each man of his strength, she then insisted they all continue lugging and lifting heavy furniture.

Lisa McLaurin had to be a real twisted bitch. She’d run the same story to every man, giving the story different twists. She told the driver he’d been driving too fast and shattered the glass, and she accused two other men of behaving recklessly and thus being responsible for the demise of yet another priceless family heirloom.

But Shane knew the real deal. While she was getting her freak on with one of the guys, he’d gotten hold of the precious box, opened it, and discovered several old glass Christmas balls.

Lisa was a bored and stingy white bitch. She’d played them all and had received long-lasting, free black dick.

It was the first time Shane had ever gotten fucked over by a woman. He’d heard about karma and all…but damn, he hadn’t realized that getting played would feel so fucked up.

T
he doctor and nurses expected Shane to remain by Kapri’s side during the emergency Caesarian Section, but once she was cut open, Shane started hyperventilating. He began to back away until he had backed completely out the door. For Shane, the waiting room was a much more comfortable place.

Tariq paced the floor with him. Janelle sat quietlyexpressionless. When the nurse came to deliver the good news, Tariq jumped and headed toward the delivery room with Shane. “Just the father,” the nurse told Tariq.

Janelle sucked her teeth and gave Tariq a look that screamed,
you’re such a moron
.

Taking the
K
from Kapri and dropping the
e
from his name, Shane chose the name, K’Shan for his son’s first name. “K’Shan Batista,” he said, as he held his son for the first time.

“K’Shan? I don’t like made-up names,” Kapri said disapprovingly, but was too exhausted to forcibly voice her opinion.

K’Shan was a healthy boy weighing eight pounds and seven ounces. The spitting image of Shane, K’Shan had his father’s tight curly hair, ruddy complexion, big hands and feet. He even had Shane’s cleft chin. There were no traces of Kapri’s physical characteristics. Like Lil’ Man, K’Shan was straight-up Batista.

Shane’s face lit up when he held his son; his anger toward Kapri slowly began to dissipate. Perhaps they could work things out for the baby’s sake, he thought, casting his wife a pleasant gaze.

Along with Tariq and Janelle, Kapri’s parents and siblings also came to extend their good wishes to the new parents.

“You know, son…” Kapri’s father said, placing a paternal arm around Shane’s shoulders. He cleared his throat and continued, “Parenting never stops. Even when this boy turns forty years old—as long as you have breath in your body, you’re going to always worry about him and you’re going to always think you know what’s best for him. Parenting isn’t easy, son. Just remember, you have to put your child’s needs in front of your own.”

Shane’s smile dimmed. He nodded respectfully, but he wasn’t interested in Kapri’s father’s long-winded words of wisdom. Shane would learn parenting skills in his own way on his own time. So if her parents thought they were going to meddle in the way he raised his son, they’d better think again. Today, he had politely held his tongue, but there was no telling how much cussing he’d do the next time a member of Kapri’s family decided to offer a word of advice.

Still, it was a happy occasion and Shane had a feeling that the birth of his son would give him a reason to turn his life around and spend more time at home. Living with a woman he no longer loved had been inconvenient and unpleasant. Shane wanted to be a good father to his son and vowed to make every effort to rekindle his feelings for Kapri.

But, two weeks later, his home life seemed worse than any of the places he’d ever been forced to live. It was worse than the Children’s Home and worse than Barney Mills. Home was a living hell.

K’Shan seemed to cry nonstop. And on the rare occasions when the baby wasn’t screaming at the top of his lungs, Kapri would start.

“What’s wrong?” Shane asked his wife, disgusted.

“I don’t know,” she responded with an annoying sniffle as she wiped her nose. “Postpartum blues—I guess.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Depression. After giving birth, some women…” “Never mind!” He cut her off rudely. “I’m sorry I asked; only
you
would come up with some ying yang shit nobody ever heard of.”

“It’s a medical condition. I need support. Some understanding—”

“Yo!” Shane roared, silencing Kapri. “K’Shan is the only baby in this house,
so cut that shit.” His scalding words reduced Kapri to more tears and inconsolable wailing. Shane covered his ears with the palms of his hands, walked over to Kapri, and hollered, cruelly mocking her wailing. He yelled until her mournful sobs trailed off into a pitiful whimper.

Satisfied, he showered and changed clothes. “I’m going out,” he said with a sneer and slowly put on each article of clothing without giving his wife the slightest hint of where he intended to go.

“Please don’t leave me here with the baby,” Kapri pleaded as she helplessly watched Shane tie his sneakers.

“I’m not sitting around here listening to your bullshit all night,” he shouted as his mind searched his mental Rolodex, flipping through pages, trying to decide which female admirer could soothe his soul. “I’m out,” he declared, grabbing Kapri’s car keys. An anonymous encounter with a stripper might suit his mood tonight. He wasn’t sure, but he’d soon find out. The moment Kapri’s crying resumed, Shane slammed the front door.