Double Dippin' (38 page)

Janelle attributed his ability to function without medication to her breast milk. Her milk was a healing elixir without troublesome side effects. It nourished and soothed her husband and also seemed to heighten his performance in bed.

“Come here, baby. I’ll make you feel better.” Janelle reached out to Shane. He snuggled close as she pulled up her top and unhooked her bra and then settled into a comfortable position. As she wiped Shane’s tears and cooed in his ear, she noticed that Lil’ Man had come into the room.

“I’m hungry, Mommy.”

“Daddy’s hungry, too. Be a big boy and go in the kitchen and get yourself a cup of juice.”

“That’s not Daddy; that’s Unc Shane,” Lil’ Man objected as he watched his uncle slurping the milk that was supposed to be his.

“Not anymore,” Janelle said firmly. “This is your daddy now and Daddy needs Mommy’s milk until he gets better. Do you understand?”

Lil’ Man nodded.

“Take the juice in the play room. When Daddy gets finished, there might be a little left for you. Okay, sweetheart?”

Lil’ Man smiled at the prospect of there being some milk left for him. Carrying a plastic cup, he trotted to his spacious playroom to watch cartoons.

For Tariq’s accidental death, Janelle had filed claims with two separate insurance companies and had acquired a small fortune. She purchased a beautiful home in a gated community in Fort Washington, Pennsylvania, where she and Shane and Lil’ Man lived in seclusion.

When the phone rang one day, Janelle leaned over to observe the caller ID. She saw the name Kapri Batista and sucked her teeth. Shane and Kapri were divorced; Shane was Janelle’s husband now. It didn’t make sense for Kapri to continue to carry his name.

No matter how many times she explained to Kapri that Shane wasn’t well enough for a visit with his son, Kapri continued to harass them. When the phone finally became silent after the fifth ring, Janelle made up her mind to get the number changed. Again.

She had worked too hard to get Shane back to his normal mental state to have his ex-wife ruin everything by trying to force him into a situation he wasn’t emotionally prepared for. The only family Shane knew was Janelle and Lil’ Man. He barely remembered K’ Shan or Kapri. And Janelle planned to keep it just like that.

For a man that used to call her ugly, Shane sure couldn’t get enough of Janelle now. Smiling proudly, she ran her fingers through her husband’s curly hair. Squeezing her breast, she encouraged Shane to nurse. Janelle refused to ply him with the pills the psychiatrists wanted him to take. Her breast milk was all the healing her husband would ever need.

“Shane,” she whispered in his ear. “The baby’s kicking. Do you want to feel it?” She put his large hand on her belly. “Twins. Remember I told you, we’re having a boy and a girl.”

Shane, more focused on slurping breast milk, murmured nonsensically. Janelle didn’t mind doing all the talking. “What names did we pick out for the twins?” she asked.

Shane stopped sucking and looked into her eyes intently. “We’re gonna name our twins Tariq and Marguerite,” he said in a voice as clear as a bell.

Janelle smiled and nodded. And while Shane was experiencing a lucid moment, Janelle took his hand and led him to their bedroom where she was guaranteed an hour or more of the best sex in the world.

A
fter their intense lovemaking session, Janelle ran her fingers across Shane’s beautiful face.
I’m so lucky
. She smiled as she placed her pinky inside Shane’s cleft chin. The dimple seemed to have deepened over time, making him more handsome, if that was possible. She would have preferred to take a long nap and cuddle with her handsome husband, but Lil’ Man was alone in the playroom and needed some attention.

Reluctantly, she untangled herself from Shane’s embrace. She took a quick shower, returned to the bedroom, and threw on a plain cotton dress.

Naked, Shane rested on the bed with his eyes closed. “Shane! Get up, honey. Go wash up and get dressed. I’ll have your dinner ready soon.”

Shane rose and walked—no—he sauntered to the master bathroom. Was it possible? Was her man finally coming back to his senses? Damn, she was good. Shane had his swagger back! Good loving and breastfeeding was all he had needed.

Carrying a change of clothes for Shane, Janelle went into the bathroom behind him. “Put these on after you wash up,” she instructed as she folded a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans over the towel rack.

Shane smiled at her and then amazingly, he gave her a sexy wink.

Janelle’s pussy muscles involuntarily clenched up. She’d have to quickly attend to dinner and Lil’ Man’s needs. She could tell that she and Shane were going be tangling up the bed sheets for hours.

Alone in the bathroom, Shane’s mind was crowded with jumbled thoughts. Everything was mixed up. He had faked a smile for Janelle’s sake, but he was actually quite miserable. Nothing seemed quite right. Janelle made him feel better when he was sad, but he didn’t belong with her. She told him he was her husband and that Lil’ Man was his son, but that wasn’t true. Lil’ Man was Tariq’s son.

Tariq!
The yearning started at the pit of his stomach, moved up to his ribcage, and settled in the center of his chest—his heart. Pain. Unbearable pain.

Shane remembered that Tariq had run away from him—had run because of something terrible he and Janelle had done. And then Tariq flew away with their mother, leaving Shane alone and miserable.

I’m sorry, Tariq. I never meant to hurt you, man.

Mounting pain consumed him. Shane hugged himself to control the intensity of this overwhelming torture. An agonizing headache that began at his temples began to slowly move to the top of his head. Shane opened the medicine cabinet and searched for a bottle of Tylenol or any kind of pain reliever. His head was pounding as he frantically moved items around in search of something to relieve the headache. A green cardboard package fell out of the cabinet and onto the floor. Stooping down to pick up the fallen object caused excruciating pain, but Janelle was a neat freak and would complain if he left a mess. He picked up the box and read
single-edge razor blades
.

Feeling suddenly enlightened, Shane smiled.

Breathing hard with excitement, he sat down on the toilet seat. He shook a razor out of the pack, looked at the razor and then down at his arm. Shane was mesmerized by the thick throbbing vein in his wrist. Without hesitation, he placed the razor on the fleshy underside of his wrist and pressed, gradually increasing the pressure. He drew a deep straight line from one side of his wrist to the other. There was a rhythmic spurt of blood and he was flooded with a feeling of great relief as the headache and emotional turmoil instantly ceased.

He watched with interest as the blood flowed down to his palm. Absently, he smeared the blood across the left side of his chest.

With his wounded hand, he slit his other wrist and watched in awe as the blood pooled into his right palm. With a large sweeping motion, he smeared bright red blood on the right side of his chest.

“Shane!” Janelle called out as she approached the bathroom.

Shane stood up and turned his back to her, but his image was clearly reflected in the large bathroom mirror. Janelle gasped; her hand covered her mouth. For a few seconds she was mute and frozen in place as she gawked at Shane’s reflection.

She uncovered her mouth and emitted a piercing scream. Janelle rushed over to Shane and forcibly turned him around to face her. “Oh my God! Shane! What have you done?”

Wearing a lopsided smile, Shane presented the blood-covered razor blade. The razor he held clattered to the tiled bathroom floor when Janelle knocked it out of his hand.

Blood pumped fast from both slit wrists. Shane smiled proudly and stuck out his chest. On his chest were blood smears that resembled a pair of giant red wings.

“Look! I’m ready to fly away,” he said, smiling dreamily, looking toward the ceiling.

Janelle screamed, “Don’t you leave me, Shane. Don’t die, baby. Please!” She grabbed a towel and frantically tried to tie it around one of his wrists and then grabbed the T-shirt he’d never put on and tried to tie that to his other wrist, but blood pumped out of his veins and quickly saturated the shirt and towel.

In her frenzy to stem the flow of blood, Janelle slipped in the red puddle that was spreading around the base of the toilet. Lying in a stunned heap and covered in Shane’s blood, Janelle tried to get up to make one last effort to save Shane’s life.

Losing blood quickly, Shane collapsed and lay on the floor beside Janelle. She screamed and tried to get up, but kept slipping in his blood. “Lil’ Man, bring me the phone. Hurry!”

Janelle continued to scream but her voice sounded distant. Shane thought he heard Lil’ Man crying, but the child’s cries also seemed far away and muffled.

More clearly, he heard a male voice call his name. The voice was familiar and seemed to speak directly into his ear. He tried to answer, but he was losing consciousness fast.

Finally, Shane lapsed into what he thought would be eternal sleep, but he awakened surrounded in brilliant light.

And there was an image too marvelous to believe—his brother, Tariq, standing in the light and smiling at him.

“Whassup, bro?” Tariq said, looking vibrant and alive. His tone was warm and loving. Shane wanted to tell his brother that he was sorry, but he was so stunned by Tariq’s presence, he could not utter a sound.

Before Shane could respond or fully comprehend his transition, Tariq stepped forward with outstretched arms. “It’s cool, man. You don’t have to apologize,” he said, as if he’d read Shane’s mind.

In the distance, Shane could see Aunt Mazie, Ms. Holmes, and his mother. They all advanced toward him wearing smiles that conveyed love and forgiveness. In life, his mother had never looked as beautiful and serene. It all made sense now. Shane realized he’d crossed over.

Tariq embraced his brother and smiled broadly. “We’ve all been waiting for you, man. Welcome home, Shane.”

Allison Hobbs was raised in suburban Philadelphia. After high school she
worked for several years in the music industry as a singer, songwriter, and
studio background vocalist. She eventually attended Temple University
and earned a Bachelor of Science degree. She is the author of
Pandora’s Box,
Insatiable
and
Dangerously in Love.
Hobbs currently resides in Philadelphia.

Visit her website at
www.allisonhobbs.com
or email her at [email protected].

Dangerously
          
In Love

A
LLISON
H
OBBS

A
VAILABLE FROM
S
TREBOR
B
OOKS

Chapter 2

I
gnoring the 25-mile-an-hour speed limit on Lincoln Drive, Reed pushed the needle on the speedometer to seventy. Like a man possessed, he took the dangerous curves without a thought of decreasing his speed. The former Victorian hotel on the corner of Lincoln Drive and Gypsy Lane that now served as a police station became a quick blur as Reed defiantly zoomed past. Official Philadelphia police cars parked outside did not deter Reed. As far as he was concerned, the officers of the law that occupied the ancient-looking police barracks seemed more like park rangers than real cops. Fuck ’em. Those suckers were probably inside knocking off a couple boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts.

Reed gave a snort as he imagined his wife’s reaction if she were sitting in the passenger’s seat. He could just hear her:
Slow down, Reed,
she’d whine.
It’s dangerous to speed on Lincoln Drive. You know what happened to that famous singer when we were kids
—

Then Reed would interject:
Chill out, Dayna. I can handle these curves without breaking my neck.

He suffered a spinal cord injury,
Dayna the Know-It-All would correct.

Neck, spine, whatever. Your face isn’t buried in my lap, so I know I won’t be going out like him.

Irked by Dayna’s superior attitude, he’d feel compelled to drive even faster. Throughout her squeals of protest, her face contorted in fear, his wife would undoubtedly be holding on to the overhead handle while pressing her foot into an imaginary brake on the floor.

But thankfully, he didn’t have to listen to her whine. Not tonight. Reed swerved to the left and headed for City Avenue. When he neared the Hilton Hotel, he accelerated instead of turning toward the parking lot entrance.

He checked the time. Six-thirty. Plenty of time to take care of what he had to do. Then, after a couple of hours of stress release, he’d head back to the Hilton to network for the last half-hour of the seminar. Yeah, a half-hour was all a brother needed to make some connections. Reed had little patience for sitting around listening to a bunch of speakers.

His car might as well have been on automatic pilot, for Reed had made no conscious decision to drive to Thirty-Eighth and Chestnut. He chuckled to himself and gave a shrug of indifference as he parked and then quickly ducked into the discreet entrance of Lizzard’s, a strip joint in the heart of University City. The club featured a large selection of women with varying body types.