Big Girls Do Cry (13 page)

I could, however, see the desperation in her eyes. She thought this baby was the answer to all her prayers, when in all actuality, it was quite possibly the answer to all mine. If I had Rashad’s baby, he’d be indebted to me for the rest of his life. He’d probably even leave Egypt for me if I offered to have another baby for him.

I know she’s my sister, but all’s fair in love and war. Rashad was my man first. I might have made a mistake by choosing Tony over him, but maybe fate was about to turn in my favor after all. Maybe I was being given a second chance.

“So, what do you think?” Egypt had fingers on both hands crossed. “Will you be our surrogate?”

“If it’s a girl, will you name her after me?” I smiled, but she didn’t. I don’t think she understood what I was saying. “Just kidding. I’ll do it. I can see how much you want this baby.”

“You’ll do it?” Egypt sounded surprised and thrilled, like someone who’d just hit the lottery and still couldn’t believe it. She grabbed me, hugging and kissing me, getting me all wet with her tears. She was crying, and so was I. Don’t ask me why.

“Girl, you my sister.” I hugged her back warmly. “I got your back.” As
long as you don’t turn it on me
.

She released me, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh my God, Isis, I love you so much. I can’t thank you enough. You’re not going to have to do anything. I can’t wait to tell Rashad.”

She looked like she could float on air at any moment, but I brought her back down to earth real quick. Yeah, I needed a place to live, but I was not about to go through nine months of
pregnancy and not get compensated. “So, don’t we have to talk money?” “Money?”

“Yeah, don’t surrogates usually get paid for their services? You know, so they can’t make a claim on the baby?” Time to get paid.

It was Sunday, and I’d slept in late, something I tried to do on the weekends, since I generally got up at six in the morning during the week. I was lying in bed, curling my toes, feeling lazy. I gazed over at the clock on the nightstand to see if I still had time to get my butt out of bed and off to church for the eleven o’clock service. The red 11:42 staring back at me said,
Nope, not a chance
. Only way I was going to make church was if Reverend Simmons just happened to get a little long-winded.

I’d planned on getting up and going to church when I first heard Leon getting ready to leave around eight, but as soon as he heard me stirring, he started kissing on my ears and neck. As usual, he got my engine going but just couldn’t get the car started. That was all right, though, because when he left to go golfing, I finished what he’d started with a fantasy of that sexy Michael Richards. I’d satisfied myself so good that I put myself back to sleep until a few moments ago. I don’t know why God made orgasms, but I’m sure glad he did. I stretched, arching my back as I purred like a satisfied Siamese cat. My body hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Since I wasn’t going to church, I figured I’d pass the time reading a book. I picked up
The Cartel 2
, by Ashley and JaQuavis, off my nightstand. People other than Jerome and Leon didn’t know it, but I loved me some street lit. I could read about pimps and hoes and gangsters all day long, and Ashley and JaQuavis were two of the best at writing that gangster shit. Their stories reminded me of when I was a child in the seventies, living in Norfolk. I used to sneak off and read Donald Goines and Iceberg Slim books behind my parents’ backs.

As I moved over to Leon’s side of the bed to make myself more comfortable, my toes got entangled in something tucked under the sheets. I laughed, figuring they were Leon’s boxers. Like everything he did in the bedroom lately, he must have been trying to get them off quick. I reached down, pulling them up, and did a double take when I saw a pair of cheap red cotton panties instead of my husband’s usual plaid boxer shorts.

“What the …?”

The thing that bothered me was that they were my size, but they sure as hell weren’t mine. They looked like they were purchased at Kmart. I did my undergarment shopping in a much pricier place than where these came from, and I wore only thongs. I looked closer at the underwear, then dropped them when my mind comprehended what I had in my hands. Holding some woman’s used panties was nothing compared to the fact that I’d slept with them rubbing up against me. Just the thought made my skin crawl. That was just so disgusting; I didn’t even want to think about it. What kind of woman leaves her panties behind anyway? She had to know they were missing with an ass that size.

I got out of bed and headed to the shower, wringing my hands. I felt a real need to get clean. When I finally got past the whole underwear thing, the most troubling thought was that this could only mean Leon had some woman in my bed. Was that fool crazy? Had he lost his mind? Didn’t he know that if I found out, I would kill him? I was so upset I couldn’t even cry.

I needed to talk to someone, to sort out my feelings and weigh my options. I stepped out of the shower and headed for the phone.

I called Jerome. The truth was, I hated to tell him something like this, since he already didn’t like Leon, but I had to tell someone who wouldn’t tell my business. Jerome was like my personal safe; he kept all my secrets.

He answered on the second ring. “Raine, this isn’t a good time.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to talk to you,” I whispered into the phone, as if Leon were standing right next to me or might walk into the room at any second. I think it was my own thoughts and
fears I was afraid of—as if putting these thoughts into words would destroy me and our marriage.

“Where are you? And why are you whispering?” he asked.

My voice went back up to its normal tone. “Oh, sorry. I’m home by myself.”

“Well, I’m not. I’ve got company,” Jerome hissed back, making it clear he wanted me to get off the phone. “Big Poppa’s here, and we’re naked, if you get my meaning. You know he don’t like to be disturbed when we’re getting busy. Call me back in an hour.”

I know how he cherished every moment with Big Poppa, but he should have known I was in a crisis and I needed him.

“But, Jerome—”

He cut me off. “Are you in any physical danger?”

“No.”

“Then it can wait. I’ll call you back. Love you. Gotta go.” With that, he hung up. I’m telling you, gay men can be more flighty than women when they’re getting some dick.

I sat there, dumbfounded. Who else could I confide in? The truth was, there was no one else. Over the years, I had given up quite a bit for the sake of my marriage. I had lost touch with so many friends, because Leon claimed he didn’t like them for one reason or another. In most cases, they didn’t like him either, and they weren’t shy about telling me why. Most of them said they thought I deserved better, but I always ended up siding with my husband. Apparently, that decision was a bad one, because now that I had found evidence of him cheating, I had no one to talk to.

You know what? Fuck confiding. It was time for confrontation. I was not letting Leon get away with this. It was time for me to be the same woman who everyone in the business world knew me as. I never let anybody in my office get away with shit. I was all up in their face, demanding answers for whatever they’d done wrong. I was a powerful woman. So why should I let Leon get over just because he was my husband?

I walked over to my closet, grabbed my Sunday best, and got dressed. Twenty minutes later, I climbed in my car and drove straight over to Chesterfield Country Club.

“Could you tell me what hole Leon Farrow is golfing on?” I
asked at the clubhouse desk. I didn’t know if they could actually give me that information, but if not, I was prepared to walk all eighteen holes of that course until I found his cheating ass. What I was not prepared for was the clerk’s response.

He looked down at his computer. “Leon’s not golfing here today, ma’am. Next tee time I have for him is Thursday.”

I tilted my head. “You sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

But I didn’t trust him. He was a man, and as far as I was concerned right then, every last one of them was suspect.

I walked out of the clubhouse and looked around the parking lot for Leon’s car, which, it turned out, really wasn’t there. I couldn’t believe this shit. Where was he? Obviously he wasn’t playing golf. By now, I was convinced that he was over at that hussy’s house, screwing her. The problem was, I had no idea who she was or where to even start looking for them.

Fuming, I drove home to search for more clues, but instead I found Leon’s car parked in the driveway. I jumped out of mine and strode to the door with a purpose. I wanted to stay calm, I was trying to stay calm, but I was anything but calm. My husband was about to meet the new me.

The second I hit the door, I was screaming his name. “Leon! Where you at?”

He walked out of the kitchen, carrying a sandwich. “What are you screaming for? I’m right here.”

I placed a hand on my hip and went straight to the point. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I told you I was going golfing.” He took a bite of his sandwich. It was so obvious he was trying to appear nonchalant. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.

“Oh, really, you went golfing?” I was about to teach him that he wasn’t a very good liar.

“Yes, I went golfing.”

“Where? Because I just came from Chesterfield Country Club, and you sure weren’t there.”

He stared at me for about five seconds, probably in disbelief that I had finally woken up to his crap. He was so busted. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to squirm his way out of this.

“I don’t know why you didn’t call me. I could have told you I was at Brandermill Country Club. What the hell you looking for me for anyway? I figured you’d be reading one of your ghetto books this afternoon.”

Oh, no, he was not going to turn this around on me, trying to make me look wrong for checking behind him. Those red cotton panties I’d found gave me all the reason I needed to go looking for his ass. “Stop lying, Leon. I know you was with some big-ass woman. Admit it. For once in your life, be honest about something.”

“For once in my life? What the hell are you talking about? I’m not admitting to shit, because I ain’t did shit! Now, what the hell is this all about?” His temper was escalating pretty quickly, probably because he was pissed that he was caught in his lies. I guess he thought he could intimidate me into backing down, but he was wrong.

“You want to know what this is about?” I reached into my bag and pulled out his bitch’s bloomers. “It’s about these!” I held them out for him to see.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Why exactly are you showing me these? I’ve seen your underwear before. Personally, I like your red thong with lace better.” He laughed, and I wanted to smack him into next week.

“I don’t see a damn thing funny. These cheap-ass things are not mine—but I did find them in our bed.” I threw them in his face. “So, would you like to tell me whose they are?”

Leon stuck with his confused routine. “Our bed?”

If I wasn’t so pissed off, I’d have to give him credit for his acting ability, because the confusion on his face looked almost genuine. Maybe the damn fool had been practicing in front of a mirror.

“Yes, our bed. Now, who the hell do they belong to? And why did she leave them in my bed? Y’all trying to send me some kind of message? ‘Cause I got it loud and clear.”

“What message? I still don’t know what you’re talking about. And you best watch your tone of voice with me.”

I was not about to watch my goddamn tone of voice or back down. “Oh, so you’re going to lie right to my face?”

“I ain’t got to lie. And I ain’t got time for this nonsense either.” He waved his hand in dismissal, then turned like he was about to walk away.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” Before I knew it, I hauled off and smacked him as hard as I could. His sandwich went flying.

“What the —?”

Uh-oh. My hand had barely made it back to my side when I realized I’d made a big mistake. What the hell did I hit him for?

Leon stood there for a second before his hand touched his face. It probably took that long before his brain registered the pain of my slap. He looked shocked. I’d seen the look before; it told me I should run.

“Leon, baby, I’m sorry,” I pleaded, backing away from him as I spoke. “I didn’t mean it. I just got mad because you was lying to me. I’m really sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to—”

“Woman, didn’t I tell you about putting your hands on me?” Before I could move, he smashed his fist into my chest so hard that he knocked the wind out of me. When I didn’t go down, his other fist landed two punches into my stomach. This time, my knees gave out, and I hit the ground hard.

“Didn’t I tell you about laying your hands on me?” He touched his face again, looking crazy, like he wanted to hit me some more. “If you left a mark on my face, I’m gonna kill your ass.”

I was sobbing and shaken, but I found the resolve to demand, “I want you out of my house.” This time, I’d had enough.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. This is my goddamn house!” Leon hollered.

“Get out! I mean it. Get the fuck out my house!” My words were strong, but when he took a step closer, I cowered in fear.

“If you really want me out, then you’re gonna have to sell this house. Then you can give me half that business of yours and anything else you own. I ain’t going away cheap. Oh, and you might as well give up that fantasy about running for sorority president, ‘cause the day I walk out the door, I’m going straight to the Internet and posting those naked pictures of you. So think about it. You really want me out?”

“I hate you.” I couldn’t believe how fast he rattled off his list of demands and threats. It was almost as if he’d been expecting this day to come, and he’d planned his speech in advance.

“Oh, please,” he said with a smirk. “You hate me right now, but you won’t hate me in a couple of days when you need an arm ornament or you get lonely. Besides, Loraine, don’t nobody want you but me.” He no longer looked like he wanted to hit me, but his words hurt just as much as the punches.

“You act as if you’re the only man who would ever want me.” Michael Richards’s face flashed in my mind for a moment, lessening the pain of Leon’s words. But, of course, he didn’t know what Michael had said to me, so he scoffed at the idea that I could be considered attractive.