Single Husbands (15 page)

Michelle had greatly enriched Brian’s life and there was no way he could repay her; therefore, no matter what happened in
their lives, Brian would never divorce his wonderful wife, nor would he let her leave him.

H
uh? What?” Herschel vigorously shook, then scratched his bald head, frowning at Ivory. All he heard was “Wonk, wonk, wonk,
wonk.”

“You know Kwan’s birthday is coming up and he wants to go to Disney World with three of his friends,” she said. “I prepared
the budget and for three days it’s going to cost five thousand two hundred for top accommodations for the six of us, or if
we stay five days it’ll cost a little under eight grand. That’s all-inclusive airfare, hotel, six five-day passes, food, and
souvenirs. What do you think? Which package do you want to pay for?”

The trip for their son’s birthday was perfect—except there was no way Herschel was spending five days with a bunch of ten-year-olds.
“Baby, please. Put it on mute for a second,” Herschel insisted, sitting on the edge of the sofa, trying to concentrate on
the basketball play-offs.

Ivory picked up the remote, silencing the television. Was she fucking crazy? His fingers wrapped around the cable remote.
Snatching the controller back from her, he restored the volume.

“Not the television. Your mouth. Damn. Just shut up for a minute. I can’t focus on what’s happening. I can’t hear the sports
commentator or hear myself think, and I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said, moving from the sofa to the
reclining chair.

The fourth quarter had just started and the Hornets were on fire. She knew better than to come between him and basketball.
She was the one who begged him to come over.
Fuck.
Herschel should’ve gone to his place with Anthony or the sports bar. Anyplace else would’ve been better. And why did she
wait until the last quarter to bring this shit up? Did she think he’d agree with her to shut her up so he could concentrate
on the game?

“Oh! That’s what’s up!” Herschel said, rocking in his seat. “That was the fucking play of the century! Baby, look. You’ve
got to see the replay.”

Ivory cried. Standing in front of him, she said, “This is important to Kwan. You promised him and I want you to keep your
word. Why won’t you talk to me? I can see you’re excited about the game, but can’t you get excited about your son too? We
have to keep our word to Kwan this time. We have to.” Tears glazed her eyes.

Ou, this bitch is pushing me to the fucking edge. If she don’t move from in front of the television! Damn! She’s ruined my
best play-off moment.

It wasn’t their word that had to be kept, it was
hers.
She dreamt of this grandiose Snow White, Mickey and Minnie, family vacation and birthday celebration package by her damn
self. He never agreed to go to no amusement park. Besides, Kwan was a boy and should’ve been anxious to go to football camp.
After ten years of him not taking Kwan anywhere, she knew he wasn’t going, but somehow convinced herself that she could, what,
change his mind? Oh, yeah. Herschel could see that happening, only in his damn dreams. Now she was fucking crying in the middle
of the last quarter of the greatest play-off game ever for New Orleans.

Not this shit again,
Herschel thought. Ivory cried more than Kwan. “Is this what I’m going to have to deal with if I marry your ass? I can’t fucking
tolerate your crying all the time. It’s driving me fucking crazy. Get out of my way and shut the hell up. In that order!”

Damn, what was it that I saw in her lately?

Herschel picked up his Blackberry. Anthony had texted,
? u c da b2b play? Almost str8 pissed on myself. Need 2 c u. Miss & luv u.

What? He missed a play? Amazing moments in sports happened in a split second. That’s why Herschel had to have his eyes glued
to the flat screen and not to Ivory’s miserable ass.

Responding to Anthony, Herschel texted,
Meet me @ my place n exactly 3 hrs. Wear those blk spandex boxer briefs I bought you. I’ma tear that ass up!

Anthony texted back,
Can’t u meet me @ our condo? I’m already here.

No, Nikki is gone and I want to fuck you in my bed tonight.

Well, aw’ight. It’s ur dick. I’m just tryna bust a nut n ur gut,
Anthony replied.

Herschel hit him back:
Oh, you won’t have to try too hard when I dig in dat ass.

His lover would chill at the condo for two hours. By the time Anthony would change into his jogging shorts, T-shirt, boxers,
and cross-trainers, and make it to The Island, Herschel would be waiting. Anthony would pretend to jog by Herschel’s mansion,
fake to the left, then cut to right into the wide driveway. He’d jog along the dimly lit driveway until reaching the back
entrance, which Herschel and Nikki never locked. Anthony would find Herschel on the porch with a couple of ice-cold beers
and a hard dick.

Ivory sat on the arm of the sofa closest to him. “Herschel, what do you want from me? I can’t plan our first family vacation
without you getting angry. Obviously, you don’t know how to be a father to Kwan, but it’s time you learn. What about me? I
need you to care about me, about us. This trip is important to Kwan.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a father to Kwan; Ivory was right. Herschel didn’t know how to father Kwan’s openly gay
ways. Was being gay genetic? Why did his son have to be gay? Wasn’t paying Kwan’s tuition, buying his colorful outfits, and
giving him a weekly allowance enough?

“I already explained my situation to you. What are you, deaf? How many times do I have to remind you I’m married? I can’t
go on no fucking five-day vacation with you until after my divorce is final, and that’s final.”

“Herschel! You’re the one who’s deaf! We’ve been together longer than you’ve been married. You don’t take me anywhere anymore.
You don’t spend time with Kwan. You tell me to send him across the street to his cousins’ house every time you come over,
as if you’re ashamed of our son being gay. What! You don’t think he knows? Every time I complain, you throw Nikki in my face.
I don’t bring that bitch’s name up. You do. You conveniently mention Nikki when you don’t want to do the right things for
us. ‘I can’t jeopardize Nikki’s career. She’s a celebrity. We’ve got to wait.’ I’ve been waiting over a decade. For what?
I’m tired of fucking waiting, Herschel. Where’s that bitch right now? Probably fucking some other man, just like you come
over here all the damn time to fuck me. If you believe she’s not sucking another man’s dick, you’re crazy. You need to decide
right here, right now. Do you want her? Do you want me? Or do you want me to get another man and leave your selfish, inconsiderate,
confused ass alone?”

Did that bitch have amnesia? Not this shit again. No, she was not giving him an ultimatum in the house he’d bought her broke
ass. Herschel stood quietly. He walked toward the door. “You can go get Kwan. But if you bring a man up in here. Up in my
house. The house I’m paying for. Let me make myself HDTV clear. Pack your fucking bags, leave my damn furniture, and go live
with that nigga. Let him take care of you and Kwan. I’m out.”

Ivory raced toward him, slammed her body against the door, grabbed his shirt, then cried, “I’m sorry. Don’t leave. Please
stay the night with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Oh,
his
fault. She didn’t have amnesia. Ivory was fucking bipolar, borderline schizophrenic. Staying the night was not an option.
Herschel had plans that didn’t include raging estrogen, out-of-control hormones, or endless fake-ass tears.

“Move out of my way,” he said. Fucking around with her ass, he’d miss the postgame highlights.

Ivory slid to the floor, cradling her crying face in her palms. Biting his bottom lip, Herschel tapped his foot.

Damn.
“Fine. I’ll stay the night,” he lied, “if you stop stressing me the hell out.” Retreating to the kitchen for a cool glass
of cranberry juice, Herschel asked, “You want some?”

“Sure,” Ivory said, drying her eyes.

What she really wanted was for him to fuck the shit out of her.

Sitting on the bar stool at the island that doubled as a dining area when they ate together, she quietly sipped her juice.
Herschel reached into the fruit bowl and picked up a ripe mango. Opening his mouth, he sank his teeth into the peel, biting
a chunk of the fruit. “Damn, this is good shit right here,” he said. “You’ve gotta taste it. Come here, baby.”

Ivory smiled.

Yeah, her ass is bipolar,
he thought. The minute Ivory got what she wanted, she was all happy and shit. Cupping her hand over his, she raised the mango
to her lips. When she opened her mouth, Herschel shoved the fruit, trying to put the seed and all in Ivory’s mouth.

“Don’t ever give me a fucking ultimatum again, or you’ll find yourself homeless. You got that!” he yelled.

Backing away, Ivory ran to the opposite side of the island. Herschel raced behind her. Bracing his hands on her hips, he hoisted
Ivory high in the air, then slammed her hips on the island. Lifting her dress, he ripped off her leopard thong, then slid
his finger inside her pussy.

“This is my pussy, you hear me. Mine!” he said.

“Okay,” Ivory whimpered, surrendering to him.

Once she’d given in, Herschel peeled the mango with his teeth. He spat the rind onto the tile floor. Rubbing the mango on
his bald head, he stretched Ivory’s thighs as wide as he could. He lowered his head, then massaged the juices that were on
his head onto her pussy.

Herschel squeezed the mango. The fruit gushed between his fingers, dripping juices onto Ivory’s pussy. Removing her bra, he
gently stroked the mushy mango between her breasts, circled it around her areolas, scrubbed her body with it, then sucked
her sweet, tangy nipples into firm erections before licking her all over.

“Mmm,” Ivory moaned, scooting backward onto the island. She locked her fingers in her hair, then tugged.

Stroking the mango between her pussy lips, Herschel braced her legs over his shoulders, then buried his face between her thighs.
Since he couldn’t figure out what Nikki ate to make her taste so good, he just rubbed whatever he felt like eating all over
Ivory.

“Damn, you taste so fucking incredibly delicious. Whose pussy is this?” he asked, firmly pressing his tongue against her clit,
the way she liked. “Don’t move,” he said, making his way to the refrigerator.

He retrieved an ice cube, melted it down a little in his mouth, pressed his cool lips against her clit, then slipped the ice
cube inside her ass right along with his middle finger as he began to finger fuck her in the ass while sucking her clit.

Herschel enjoyed eating familiar pussy as much as he liked sucking his lover’s dick. He buried his face deeper into Ivory’s
pussy until she came so hard he had to catch her before she slipped off the island and onto the floor. Maybe he should’ve
let her fall. It would’ve been a justifiable accident.

It was a good thing women couldn’t tell exactly what men were thinking. A man’s actions spoke louder than his words, but nothing
spoke louder than the emotions a man never shared.

“Baby,” Herschel pleaded, holding Ivory in his arms, “don’t ever leave me. I need you. Just give me a little longer. Everything
is gonna be all right.” Gently letting her go, he said, “I’ll call you later.”

Ivory frowned, then cried, “You’re leaving? You promised.”

Not soon enough. Damn, shut up
. “I’ve got to. I’ll call you later,” he repeated, walking toward the door.

Trailing him, Ivory asked, “You’ve been leaving a lot lately. Are you seeing another woman? Just be honest with me. I want
you to stay with me.”

And what, listen to her cry again? Or badger him over the brain with Kwan’s birthday trip, until he fell asleep. No fucking
way. “No, I’m not seeing another woman. I gotta go. I’ll see you at church Sunday.”

“Sunday? Sunday is three days away.”

“And? What’s your point?”

Shaking her head, Ivory said, “Nothing. I’ll see you Sunday.”

Herschel didn’t like the way Ivory had said “Nothing,” but he couldn’t keep Anthony waiting.

W
hen a man loved a woman… he’d do any and everything for her.

Make love to her all night. Take out the trash. Eat her pussy until she begged him to stop. Inquire about her day with genuine
concern. Plan vacations with her. Satisfy her sexual desires first. Send her flowers without her having to ask. Cook, clean,
and keep her company. Suck her toes. Entertain the kids and insist she hang out with her girlfriends for the weekend. Give
her a relaxing body massage. Tell her, “I love you” so often, she’d never have to wonder or ask, “Do you love me?” All the
things a man in love did for his woman, he did them willingly, not under duress or protest.

“Lexington, I’m not going to pretend or ignore the fact that you laid in my bed and confessed you’re having an affair with
Nikki.”

“Your bed?” Lexington repeated, refusing to look up at Donna, while he struggled to tune her out, eat a late lunch, and watch
the Hornets.

“Are you having an affair with Nikki?” Donna asked.

“Confessed?” Lexington said, raising his eyebrows, keeping his—thanks to Donna—divided attention on the game. “Did you say
I
confessed
?” He should’ve accepted Brian’s offer to watch the game at his house.

Donna yelled, “Answer the damn question. Are you having an affair with Nikki or not?”

“Nikki who?” Lexington replied.

“Nikki who? Nikki who? Ou, if you answer one more question with a question… ,” Donna lamented, raising her voice.

“What? You gon’ leave me? You gon’ get out of my house? Is that it?” Lexington asked. “If you had a life of your own, instead
of depending on me to satisfy your every need, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I did have a life of my own. Remember? A very lucrative life and business, mind you, until you came along with your long
list of convincing promises, and like a fool, I sold my business, married you, gave you two kids, and this is the thanks I
get. You owe me. And one way or another, you will repay me for the time I’ve invested in you and your kids,” Donna said, bracing
her fists on her hips.