Put A Ring On It (25 page)

Nivea laughed to herself as she recalled the perplexed look on her sister’s face when she came into the living room carrying a tray of cocktails.

Knox had just finished slurping between Nivea’s legs, giving her a toe-curling, heart-pumping orgasm. Courtney came in while Nivea was in recovery mode, breathing hard, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Courtney thought Nivea was sick. What a dummy. The only information swimming around in her empty head was the location of designer outlets and the number of abdominal exercises required to get abs of steel. Courtney was losing her man to her older sister and she had only her own clueless self to blame.

Courtney’s wedding was not going to happen. There wasn’t going to be a beach wedding or any other kind of ceremony. Her mother had been right; Nivea was bitter. She was very, very bitter. And she had every reason to be. How many low blows could one woman deal with in less than a month?

She’d been trying to deal with the shock of Eric fathering a son with a stripper when her mother dropped the news of Courtney’s upcoming nuptials… to a future doctor. Soon after that, she received the unwelcome news that Harlow had gotten a ring from her super rich and uber handsome boyfriend. Now Vangie, a woman who hadn’t had any dick in a couple of years, was suddenly cohabitating with her child’s father and was looking forward to a ring and a wedding ceremony.

Nivea heard the beep of her cell and smiled. Knowing it was most likely another urgent text from Knox, her face lit with a huge smile.

She couldn’t check his message yet; she had to wait until she reached a red light. Philly cops were serious about giving out tickets to people they caught texting or even looking at their cell phones while driving.
Be patient, boo boo; I’m getting to you as quickly as I can
.

Only ten minutes away from Knox’s apartment, Nivea pressed impatiently on the gas pedal. As the car accelerated, she began to feel a rush of excitement.

A few blocks from Knox’s street, Nivea finally came to a red light. Feeling self-satisfied, she pulled out her cell. The first part of Eric’s text was in bold letters:
COURTNEY’S HERE. I’ll catch up with you 2morrow.

Nivea banged her hand against the steering wheel.
Are you serious, Knox?
How dare he do this to her again? It was the second time he’d allowed Courtney to interfere with their plans. She
wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the pretense.

Something had to be done. If she continued to allow herself to play second position, it would be hard as hell to get out of that spot.

In turmoil and deep thought, Nivea didn’t notice the red light had turned green. A car horn honked impatiently behind Nivea. Forced to keep driving, she approached Knox’s apartment building. Seeing her sister’s car enraged her. Her first impulse was to ram into Courtney’s little Volkswagen, but she couldn’t risk damaging her company-owned car.

Feeling depressed and lonely, she called Eric. Maybe they could patch up their relationship. Get back on track. Together they could figure out a way to keep the stripper and the baby out of their lives.

She drove past Knox’s apartment and then pulled to the curb and called Eric.

“Hello.” The familiar sound of Eric voice tugged at her heart.

“I miss you, Eric. We need to talk.”

“Uh…it’s not a good time right now.”

“Are you at work?” Eric had always claimed to work doubles and swing shifts, and Nivea had never been able to keep with his work schedule.

“Yeah, I’m at work. I can call you back in a few minutes.” He spoke softly, guardedly.

“I’m ready to forgive you. Ready to try to work with you to resolve our problems.”

“That’s cool,” Eric said indifferently.

Nivea was a little confused by his lack of enthusiasm. The last time she’d spoken to Eric, he’d been begging and pleading for her to give him another chance.

Maybe she needed to be a little more direct. “Why don’t we
get together? I’m on my way home. I want you to come by when you get off? I need to suck that dick, baby. It’s been a long time.” Nivea smiled smugly, waiting to hear Eric’s raspy voice, telling her that he was dropping everything and would rush right over.

Instead she heard, “You ain’t sucking shit, you nasty trick!” Dyeesha shrieked, her ugly voice piercing Nivea’s eardrum.

Oh, my God! He’s not at work. Eric is such a damn liar.

“You better stop harassing my husband.”

“Your what?” Nivea squeaked.

“My muthafuckin’ husband, bitch. Me and Eric are married.”

“Put Eric back on the phone.” Nivea refused to believe what this chicken head was saying. It couldn’t be true.

“Hello.” Eric sounded sheepish.

“Is it true?”

“Yeah, it’s true. We tied the knot.”

“Why, Eric? Why would you do this to me?”

“Yo, Niv. You gon’ have to stop calling me all the time like this.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’ve been calling me and leaving a bunch of sad, pathetic messages on my damn phone.”

“I’m just saying, yo…you gon’ have to respect my marriage.”

“Tell her that she needs to respect your wife!” Dyeesha yelled in the background.

“That’s right, Niv. You have to respect my wife.” Eric paused for effect, and then his voice dropped ominously, “Or it’s gon’ be something.”

“It’s going to be what? I know you’re not threatening me after you let that stripper attack me in my own home.”

“She ain’t no stripper. That’s all in the past. Yo, I ain’t gotta explain nothing to you. Delete my number!”

Nivea pressed a button and ended the call. Eric’s threat, the
fact that he’d gotten married, it was all too much to bear. Steaming with rage, she needed to hit something, to break something, so she banged her BlackBerry against her dashboard. Yearning to hear the satisfying sound of the phone cracking open, she banged it over and over until her energy was drained. But the sturdy BlackBerry remained intact.

S
haring time with Harlow had been fun—just like old times, but as they laughed, gossiped and brought each other up-to-date, Vangie couldn’t get rid of the nagging pang, the horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she glimpsed Harlow’s big-ass, clear-as-hell diamond ring. That ring was the most beautiful thing Vangie had ever seen—tangible evidence of Drake’s love for Harlow.

Unfortunately, Vangie’s panic level was rising. She couldn’t wait much longer for Shawn to commit.

Vangie arrived home after ten. The apartment was cozy, warm, and quiet. Coat folded over her arm, she crossed the living room to the closet, trying to decide if it was wise to disrupt the peace in her household.

Undecided, she checked on Yuri. Snuggled beneath his yellow SpongeBob quilt, Yuri was sound asleep. She noticed a book on the nightstand. Shawn had read Yuri a bedtime story. Wearing a faint smile, she clicked off the light in Yuri’s room. Closing her son’s bedroom door, she reconsidered confronting Shawn. Maybe she should leave things alone for now. It might be unwise to upset the balance.

But she couldn’t let it go. She was miserable playing wifey, sick of holding her breath, waiting for Shawn to pop the question. If she didn’t speak her mind, it would be Valentine’s Day before she knew it. If she didn’t hurry up and let Shawn know how strongly she felt about marriage, instead of a ring, her Valentine’s
gift would be a box of chocolates and some more sleazy underwear.

Inside her bedroom, she stole a glance at Shawn’s profile.
Goddamn, he’s fine, even while he’s asleep.
She let out a breath of excitement and turned the dimmer to low. She began to orchestrate a plan as she undressed in semi-darkness. She’d seduce Shawn, soften his resolve with some amazing sex.

He loved being awakened with his dick in her mouth. In the middle of sucking him off, she’d stop and tell him how much she loved him and then casually mention that they should get married.

She didn’t need a big wedding. She didn’t have time for all that. There was a Justice of the Peace in nearby Upper Darby. They could get married there, and Vangie would be as happy as a bride who’d been indulged with a platinum wedding.

Imagining being carried over the threshold of her small apartment, Vangie giggled. Her tinkling laughter woke Shawn. “Hey, baby. How long you been home?” he asked.

“Not long,” she said, peeling off her panties.

“Damn, look at this!” He nudged his chin down toward the tented bedspread. “You got my dick programmed. Soon as you show a little bit of pussy, my dick gets hard as shit.” Shawn started rubbing on his erection. “Get in bed. Let me get a quickie.” Shawn wrinkled his face, expressing the urgency of his desire.

Vangie’s plan of prolonged seduction was being replaced with a damn quickie. Her face felt enflamed by the heat of sudden fury. “Why don’t you just buy yourself a blow-up doll? That’s all you really need,” she spat.

“Dag. Why you gotta come at me like that? What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired of being treated like a sex object.”

“Your naked ass turns your man on; why is that a problem?”

“I need to be more than convenient pussy, Shawn. I want to get
married. But every time I bring up the subject, you turn cold, like getting married is a disease or a crime.”

“Come here, baby. Sit down,” Shawn said, his face composed, his voice filled with patience. “Let me talk to you.”

Shawn sat up, revealing his bare chest. His taut, muscular upper body was a mouth-watering sight. Shawn was hot, there was no doubt about that, but Vangie couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by his physical attractiveness.

Pouting, Vangie flopped down of the edge of the bed. “What do you want talk about?”

“Listen, we don’t need a damn piece of paper to hold us together.”

“I do,” she said, touching her chest for emphasis. “I need to be validated, Shawn. We were already shacked up before Yuri was born. It didn’t work out. Don’t you see that our son needs the stability of married parents?”

“Let’s get this out in open…” he paused for a beat. “I don’t believe in marriage.”

She gave him a furious glance. “Why not? Marriage is something that civilized people do to honor their relationship.”

“I don’t agree with that. To me, being married is some ole, played-out shit. Marriages don’t work out like they used to.”

“It can work when two people are committed to making it work. But this isn’t just about us, Shawn. We have to think about Yuri. He didn’t ask to come into this world. He deserves two parents who are—”

Shawn interrupted her with the wave of his hand. “I already had a talk with Yuri, and I explained my position. Yuri’s all right with the situation.”

Vangie gave Shawn a long, indignant look. “Oh really? You took it upon yourself to give our son a one-sided perspective on
marriage. What were you thinking, Shawn? We should have talked to Yuri together.”

Shawn shook his head, adamantly. “After you told me that Yuri had asked whether or not we were married, I had a big boy conversation with him. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“I didn’t want you to give him your twisted viewpoint.”

“My way of thinking is real.”

“You’re not exactly an expert on the subject of marriage,” Vangie said with a sneer.

“I know plenty of married people. And the ones I know are all miserable. They don’t seem to make it past five or six years.”

“Don’t you even care about what I want?”

Vangie said, sulking. “I’ve been cutting hair for over ten years. I hear the way men talk. I know how they think and I know how they feel about women.”

“So you formed your opinion over barbershop talk?” Vangie looked like she wanted to kill Shawn.

“I’m trying to tell you that just because somebody is married, it don’t mean they’re happy. All the married men I know are still on the hunt. When they get their shave and fresh Caesar cut, they’re hooking up their appearance so they can go out and pull a new jumpoff. Most of ’em already have a couple of chicks on the side, but they need a break from jumpoff number one because she’s in his ear harassing him about leaving his wife, and jumpoff number two is complaining about being a booty call. These dudes wanna smash something brand new. And the wife at home…” Shawn paused and twisted his lips to the side. “Ain’t nothing sexy about her anymore. She’s like a sister or a cousin. Somebody he don’t even like anymore, but a piece of paper has him shackled to her.”

“Those people sound immature and disgusting. We don’t have
to end up like that, Shawn. Those men you’re referring to don’t have any respect for themselves or their marriages.”

“Some of them are thugs and considered immoral. But a lot of ’em are considered to be upstanding citizens. Professional dudes. Churchgoers and what not.”

“Obviously, they’re fronting,” Vangie said, shaking her head. “Shawn, we don’t have to be like them. I’m willing to put in the work to make our marriage last.”

“I’m putting in the work right now. I’m doing my part to make sure that our relationship is meaningful and can last beyond a few years. What am I doing wrong, Vangie?” he asked, gesturing with his hands, causing the muscles in his arms to flex.

Vangie looked away from his sculpted physique, as if staring at his hot body would mesmerize her and persuade her to fold. “You won’t put a ring on my finger. That’s what you’re doing wrong.”

Shawn scowled at her, and even with his face frowned up, he was still a gorgeous sight. “So you believe that a ring equals love?”

Vangie nodded.

“It doesn’t matter that I work hard for our family? I don’t get points for coming home putting in time with my son, for showing my love instead of speaking empty words?”

“Everything you’re doing means a lot. But I need to be validated as a woman. I deserve to be your wife. You owe me for all the years that I was a struggling, single parent. You owe me for the humiliating way you broke up with me and left me with an infant to care for.”

“I’m not here with you because I owe you something. If it was about what I owed you, I’d drop off money and keep it moving.” Shawn flung off the covers. Vangie got out of the way as he angrily swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shawn bent over and held his head with both hands.