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Authors: Nicole Bradshaw

Champagne Life (30 page)

BOOK: Champagne Life
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I wished I had listened to his suggestion.

“You hungry? Want a sandwich?” Jeremy asked. Since we had gotten here, he had been nothing short of helpful. He woke up early this morning and did the stack of dishes my mother had left in the sink. Even when she complained that the saucers were in the wrong cabinet, without saying a word, he simply moved them to the correct cabinet and asked if she needed anything else done around the house.

“I'm not really hungry,” I said, fishing through my purse. “Have you seen my phone?”

“Yeah. It fell out of your purse last night when we were driving so I just hung on to it. I'll go get it.” He dashed off and seconds later, returned with my phone. “Here ya go.”

I scrolled through the caller ID. I had three toll-free calls, probably
from solicitors. I scrolled down further and saw DeShaun's number. According to the caller ID, he called me at 2:28 in the morning. I immediately hit the “call” button to dial him back. Even though we weren't together, I thought he would want to hear the news about my father since they got along somewhat.

He picked up on the first ring.

“It's me,” I said. “How are you?”

“Fine.” His answer was curt and somewhat off-putting.

“I saw you called me early this morning,” I said.

No response.

“So I thought I'd call you back to find out what you needed.”

“It doesn't matter what I needed because you were never willing to give it to me. The good news is that you've found someone new so maybe you can satisfy his needs.”

“What are you talking about? What is wrong with you? You called me, remember?”

“And what a mistake that was,” he said. “Oh, before I forget, I contacted a lawyer. He's drafting the divorce papers as we speak. Make sure you're home next week so the papers can be hand delivered to you. I wouldn't want you to say you never got them. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

He hung up, leaving me staring dumbfounded at my cell.

“What happened?” Jeremy asked. “Who was that?”

“That was that asshole I mistakenly married. Do you know he had the nerve to have attitude with me for no reason?”

“Maybe he's still hurt that you've moved on.”

“Like he hasn't,” I said. “In fact, he seemed to have moved on while we were together, the son of a bitch. I was simply trying to be nice and give him a call to tell him about my father when he jumped down my throat.”

“You both are still hurt about what happened,” Jeremy said.
“Stuff like that takes time to get over.” Jeremy hesitated, as if there was more he wanted to say.

“But?” I asked.

“You're making the first move to be cordial to him, and it's a shame he's still carrying a grudge like this. It's as if he's miserable and wants to continue making your life just as miserable.”

“You think so?”

“Let me put it this way. If I lost you, I would be devastated too. You are beautiful, smart and you have a heart of gold. I would never even think about being with another woman. Honestly, he should be the one here supporting you instead of me.”

“I'm sorry to drag you down here,” I said. “I just didn't want to make this trip alone.”

“Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I can be here for you if he can't.”

“And about the other women,” I began. “He claims that never happened.”

Jeremy laughed. “Oh, come on. You don't believe that, do you? Of course he's going to say that. He's trying to make you feel responsible for the breakup. The truth is, he messed up first, but he wants you to bear all the guilt.”

I reached over and grabbed Jeremy's can of soda. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head. “Go right ahead.”

With the can in hand, I hopped up from the chair and headed straight for the liquor cabinet my parents always kept stocked for parties and social gatherings. I poured in a shot—or two or three— of my father's old favorite, brandy. I wanted to take a huge gulp and let all the feelings of anger, guilt and sorrow wash over me, but I was pregnant. I handed the can to Jeremy, who looked at me from the corner of his eye. “You go ahead,” I told him. “I'm not really thirsty right now.” I was going to have to deal with this difficult week without the help of liquor.
Crap!

Naomi and Jeremy

T
he day of the funeral was cloudy and dismal. As soon as the sun started peeking through the clouds, attempting to dry up the wet asphalt, tiny sprinkles of rain began to fall. During the wake, the rain poured down so hard, we could hear it beating against the side of the church. A couple of times, the lights inside the church flickered, but never went off.

I sat next to my mother and hugged her close throughout the service. She cried the entire time, but I didn't shed one tear. I had to be strong for Mom. Jeremy sat a few pews behind me. During the eulogy, I looked back at him. He gave a warm smile that brightened up the dreary day.

I appreciated him being here. He helped me stay strong and composed when all my cousins, aunts, uncles and other relatives I hadn't seen in years, showed up to our house yesterday evening before the funeral for a get together. Jeremy had even smiled through the barrage of questions from distant relatives, whose faces I couldn't even remember.

“Where was DeShaun?” they asked. “How come you don't have any kids yet?” A few of the nosier relatives forged on with the follow-up question: “What happened? “

The funeral service lasted forever. The prayer seemed extra long and during the doxology, Aunt Helena nodded off, her snoring echoing throughout the church. After the service, my mother, one
of my aunts and three of my cousins hopped into the limousine, preparing to head down to the cemetery.

As Jeremy came out of the church, Mom flagged him over. “Come with us.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking at me.

“Of course, we're sure.” Mom said. “You've been such a great help.”

He was as shocked as I was. “Okay, then.” He got into the limo, squeezing in next to me, and one of my cousins.

The limo pulled off but then stopped suddenly. A woman in a black dress, dark shades and a large hat with a veil frantically waved toward the limo.

“Oh, brother, here comes Cara,” my cousin said, with a roll of her eyes. “Nice of her to finally show up.”

Cara pulled the door open and hopped in. “I know ya'll weren't going to leave without me.” With a twitch of her hips, she smashed into the car seat. “Ya'll knew I was going to be late. You could've waited.” She took off her hat and flopped it into the seat next to her. “I can't believe how beautiful the service was. There were so many people there. I hope there are that many people there for my funeral. Of course, I'd never know if there weren't.”

After chuckling at her own joke, she pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and began blotting her forehead. “I forgot how muggy and warm it can be in Georgia, even well into the fall season. What a day to have a funeral, huh?” Her cheery voice was in deep contrast to the solemn silence from everyone else in the limousine. “I should have cut my hair like yours,” she said, reaching over three people and patting down the sides of my hair. I jerked my head back.

Jeremy leaned over and whispered, “Who is she?”

“That's Cara,” I told him, “my older sister.”

Me and a few of my cousins I hadn't seen in years stood around, talking. It felt good to finally come home and reminisce about the good ol' days, even if under dismal circumstances.

“Remember when we got beat for sneaking out to meet Marshall Cummings?” Sarita, my father's sister's daughter, said. Cousin Sarita was five years older than me, but she had treated me like a little sister more so than my real sister ever had. “I'll never forget that day with good ol' Marshall.”

“Those were good times,” Cara said in between bites of her decrusted tuna tea sandwich. She reached down and grabbed a napkin, not one, but several, and daintily dabbed around her mouth, like she was having tea at the royal palace. The clump of napkins was full of pink, smudged lipstick, which for some reason bothered me.

“How would you even know about Marshall?” I asked. “You weren't there.”

She took another bite. With her mouth full, she said, “I heard you getting the switch. It was so funny.” She laughed to herself at the memory. “Unlike you, I never snuck around behind Mom's and Dad's backs.”

I cut my eyes at her. “I can name at least one time you did.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cara said. “I forgot about that time. I suppose I was a sinner in the past like you. However, unlike you, that was in the past.”

“You don't know anything about me now.”

“I'm going to say hello to Aunt Denise,” Sarita said, quickly making her exit.

“I forgot Naomi even had a sister until today,” Jeremy said to Cara. “You two resemble one another.”

“She's a little thicker,” Lena, our second cousin, said.

“Yes, I am,” Cara agreed. “The Lord doesn't mind a little extra meat on my bones and neither should you. Besides, we have different fathers. All the girls on my daddy's side are a little thicker.” She turned back to Jeremy. “Fair warning, new guy. You'd better watch my sis. She keeps tons of secrets. My advice to you, find out her secrets before you get involved.”

“Half sister,” I corrected. “And why don't you shut up? You may be older, but I can whup that ass if I need to.”

She sighed. “I see you still have that mouth.” She turned back to Jeremy. “When things don't go her way, she resorts to violence. You'll see. Is that how DeShaun got kicked to the curb? He didn't do as your highness pleased?”

I clicked my tongue. “Awww, is somebody upset that she never got a husband?”

“If the option is trapping a husband or being single, I'll go with single.”

“I'm warning you, Cara.”

“Your threats don't bother me. I fear no one but The Lord.”

I turned to Jeremy. “The reason I barely mentioned her was because she was never around, so basically, there wasn't anything to talk about.”

She smirked. “That's not true, little sis. At the very least, I was around long enough for you to steal my boyfriend and marry him.”

DeShaun and Jenn

D
eShaun woke up early the next morning. It felt like someone had put a gun to his dome and pulled the trigger. His throbbing head was exacerbated by a healthy dose of guilt. He looked down and saw Jenn sleeping on her stomach beside him, her bare-naked body exposed from the waist up. The turquoise satin sheet only partially covered her smooth skin from the waist down.

DeShaun struggled to remember what happened. If they polished off those three empty bottles of wine overturned on the nightstand like he thought they did, there was no way he was ever going to recall the events of last night.

“What happened?” DeShaun asked as Jenn stretched herself awake.

“We tried to have sex, but we were so drunk and high that you couldn't get it up. Don't you remember? Our naked bodies were hanging halfway off the bed and we fell, landing in that spot right there.” She pointed to the foot of the bed. “You banged your head and that was it.”

That's why his head hurt so much.

“We were smoking too?”

“Boy, did we,” Jenn said, shaking her head. “I thought I was the master with the ganja, but you smoked circles around me. Must be your Caribbean roots.”

“Stereotype much?”

They both laughed.

DeShaun reached up and grabbed his aching head. “Remind me not to laugh again.”

“I overheard you talking to your wife on the phone,” Jenn said. “Is everything okay?”

He struggled to remember the conversation. The only thing he recalled saying was something about divorce papers and calling her out her name a few times.

She pulled up the covers under her chin and propped up on her pillow. “Is it really over between the both of you or can you see yourself getting back together with her?”

DeShaun thought about it. Some of the hurt was disappearing—and it wasn't due to the fact that he had smoked a blunt and drank away several bottles of wine. He was actually getting over Naomi, something he didn't think would ever be possible. Maybe hearing that dude answer her phone was the last piece he needed to realize his marriage was done. “It's over between us,” he said. “I'm ready to move on.”

He kissed her, softly at first, but as the kiss lingered, the connection became hungrier. He laid her down onto the bed and eagerly kissed her neck and chest. He whipped off the sheets and climbed on top of her. He was ready to make his move when he heard a voice calling from downstairs.

“Hello???? Is anyone home?”

BOOK: Champagne Life
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