My Married Boyfriend (11 page)

“And I love you too, Ma—I love you, too, Beeva.”

She clicked glasses with Rashad and took a sip. A warm feeling that she hadn't felt in ages flowed through her. Beeva coughed a few times, pretending like she had a cold. And if there'd been a box of tissues nearby, she would've discreetly wiped her eyes. She thought of Rashad every day and wondered how he was doing. She prayed for him and knew if he needed anything he'd call. But he rarely did. She figured either he was living his life or life was giving him hell. Whatever the case, it hardly mattered. Her prodigal son had found his way home and she couldn't be happier.

The fact that he was an only child made her feel bad. Beeva always wanted to give him a sibling, but it just never happened. She felt guilty that he had no brother or sisters to play with and worried he'd grow up feeling lonely and isolated. Beeva Reese worried about Rashad more than he ever realized.

Rashad Quintell Eason was a part of Generation X. He was born in the late seventies. He was five years old when he first saw the
Thriller
video; he was scared to death of it at first, but he felt better after Beeva tried to teach him the dance moves of Michael Jackson. Ever since he was seven he had a keen interest both math and mechanics. He liked to tear apart his father's radio. He wanted to know how the voices got in the radio and he wanted to see if little people were inside of it singing and making harmony. He could have become a computer whiz, but his father insisted that he use his hands more than his brain.

“You will always have a job if you know how to use your hands, son,” his dad told the little boy. “The computer industry sounds good now, but I don't trust those things. They're probably designed to destroy the world.” Little Rashad listened to his father. He played football in middle school and he even wanted to try out for the team when he was a high school freshman. But his father told him they could enjoy the sport by being a spectator, not a participator.

“You need to protect your hands and your body, son. They will make you money if you take care of them. Sports are too risky. The women, the potential injuries, aren't worth it.”

So his father told Rashad everything he knew about the construction and renovation business. As he grew older, he became a quick learner, accompanying his dad all around the city to various jobs. They entered musty, smelly houses that looked like they were ready to be demolished and turned them into livable places where families could move in and start new lives.

As the years went on, Rashad knew he would follow in his father's footsteps. By the time he graduated high school, he knew more about his father than he ever wanted to know. He saw the other women, the ladies his daddy flirted with at the job, the woman he often visited during lunch breaks. As a teen, Rashad would sit in the van with the AC running after his father pulled up in the driveway of his “lady friend.” Rashad would wait and occupy himself playing with his handheld video game. Thirty minutes later, his dad would return to the van, clothes disheveled, unable to look Rashad in the eye.

By the time his father passed away (his mother claimed that one of his girlfriends poisoned him when he told her he couldn't take her on a day trip for her thirtieth birthday), Rashad was ready to assume the role he'd been prepared for concerning Eason & Son.

He knew he was now “Eason,” and that little Myles was “son.” He didn't exactly care if Myles became part of the family business, but he still wanted to have a close relationship with the child, just like his father had with him. He yearned for Myles to know he was a good father who wanted to be involved. He wanted Myles to know who he was for himself, instead of the boy learning about his father based upon what his mother said about him.

“Beeva, yes. You are going to have a helluva year. You're losing a daughter-in-law. But you'll be gaining a new grandchild. Oh, and check this out. Kiara is about to have another baby, too. But that's another damned story. So congrats on all the new life changes. I wish the best for you and Winston.”

Beeva stared at her son, quickly drained her drink, refilled her glass, and drained it again.

“You're looking more and more like your dead daddy.”

“Damn, Mama.”

A hush fell over the room.

“I mean, Beeva.”

“My son. Thanks for the well wishes. Thanks for visiting us and telling us what's going on. And I'm glad to meet your new baby mama, but what about that cute little grandson of mine? That's who I really wish I could see.”

“Myles is with his mama.”

“Oh, so you'll get him tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Not even for half a day?”

“No, Beeva.”

“No?”

“That's what I keep telling you.”

“Let me get this right: You won't see Myles for Christmas? What type of shit is that? She ain't being fair to not let you spend time with him.”

“You right about that. And sometimes Kiara plays games with our son.”

“I never liked her that much anyway with her bougie ass.”

Nicole grinned; she wanted to high-five Beeva, but wasn't sure how the woman would react.

“Ma'am, I could tell you some stuff about Kiara. She tries to pretend like she's so cultured and reserved, but she can get dirty and ratchet just like the rest of us.”

“I know she can,” Beeva said and smiled knowingly in Nicole's face.

Later, when Nicole excused herself and went to the powder room, Beeva pulled Rashad to the side. “I haven't known her that long, but watch that one. I can just feel it.”

“Beeva, that's where you're wrong. This is my ride or die. She's the realest chick I know.”

“If you say so, but don't say I didn't warn you.”

O
n the day after Christmas, Nicole was at the mall window shopping. She wanted to buy everything she set her eyes on, but she knew she couldn't, since Rashad told her that his funds were so tight.

She was admiring engagement rings in a jewelry store display when she received a phone call from the 346 area code.

“Hello?”

“Is this Nicole Greene?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“I saw you on television and was inspired by your thoughtfulness regarding those kids that were affected by that fire. I was thinking that you'd know a way to get in touch with them?”

“Yeah, I do.” Nicole hesitated. “What do you want with them and why do you want their info?”

“I'm sorry. My name is Geneva Jones. And I just want to reach out and help the kids. I have started a GoFundMe account; actually two of them. One for the kids so that people can donate money to help with funeral expenses for their mom. I read that they're sending the body to Puerto Rico. I also want to make sure that their future is secure. Hopefully we can raise enough money to help send all four kids to college. Based on the news reports, I understand they didn't have an active father in their lives.”

Nicole stopped walking and found a bench to sit on. “Um, yeah, that's true. They have a few family members here but were raised by a single mom. She worked as a manager at a fast food restaurant.”

“Yeah, that's so very sad. And, of course, Nicole, I learned from your interviews that you are having a baby next summer, and I just want to do something for you. So many negative things are going on in the world and your compassion for the kids really inspired me. So I set you up an account as well. You should look it up on GoFundMe. Many people have donated. This is for you and that bundle of joy that you're carrying.”

“What did you say? Is that a joke?”

“No, no, it isn't. It's very real. So far the kids' account has raised about twenty thousand and I plan to match whatever donations are received. That includes yours, too.”

“Twenty thousand?”

“Yes, isn't that great?”

“But I don't understand,” Nicole said. She almost hyperventilated. She wasn't used to women being nice to her. She glanced at the number again that was lit up on her phone. She stared at the people near her bench and wondered if her enemies were toying with her.

“What's your name again? Who are you with? And I hope you don't ask me for my Social Security and driver's license number because I'm not with that—”

“Nicole, it's not a scam.” She laughed. “It's real. I'm Geneva Gwen Jones. They call me GG Jones. And I'm kind of weird in that I do go around looking for people to help. There are so many needs in the Houston area; so many who are walking around with their heads down and who look like they have no hope. And when I saw you on TV forgetting about yourself and taking time for the kids, well, I just think the world needs more people like you; someone with a good heart who takes time out to care about others.”

“I didn't do anything—”

“Oh, but you did. Many that were there stood around looking, then walked away, going on with their lives. But you didn't.”

“I know, but you can't say that the people are bad if they walked away—”

“Have you seen the headlines lately? The world is so cruel and people are so angry and ready to hurt one another. We need more real-life examples of positivity. Acts of kindness should be encouraged. Plus, it feels good to be nice,” Geneva said.

“I just happened to be there; I didn't do it for money.”

“And that's why I want to help: because you did it without expecting anything in return.”

Nicole sat in disbelief as the woman talked. By the time she got off the phone, Nicole couldn't believe what had just happened. But after she checked the GoFundMe account online, she wanted to scream when she read the kind notes and viewed the donations that had poured in for her and the children. It didn't really make sense to her, but it had been so long since something so thrilling happened to her, she decided to stay as calm as possible and thank God for her blessings.

She left the mall and drove home as fast as she could.

Once Nicole verified that GG Jones was legit, and the money would be hers, her head felt light and airy.

“Bad things have happened but hopefully better things will start to happen for me.” Nicole felt so elated that she began to make plans.

And on New Year's Eve, she decided to announce her news to Rashad.

They got dressed up and went downtown to bring in the New Year. They walked into the joint hand-in-hand around ten o'clock that night. The music was popping and the drinks were flowing.

Nicole knew she couldn't do her usual imbibing, but she was happy that the club offered non-alcoholic drinks. She took a tiny sip on her glass, set it aside, and let Rashad whisk her onto the dance floor as soon as the DJ started spinning a mid-tempo jam.

They began swaying to the music.

“Rashad, babe, sometimes I feel afraid. So happy yet so scared.”

“What? Why?”

“I have a feeling this New Year is going to be
my
year. The best I've ever had.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They say that what you're doing on the last day of the year is what you'll be doing for the rest of the year.”

Rashad grinned and nodded. “And you're with me?”

“I'm dancing, babe. I'm dancing, I'm celebrating and I'm happy.”

They moved around the room some more. And when the clock struck twelve, they shared a long, juicy kiss.

Nicole stuffed her tongue so deep in Rashad's mouth he almost stopped breathing. When he came up, he coughed and gasped.

“You trying to kill me, woman?”

“Kill you? With a kiss? That's a new one.” She laughed. “I'm so glad we made it to the New Year because I have something to tell you.” She proceeded to let him know about the money people around the country had given to her. “It's unbelievable how nice folks can be. I think I need to try that more often.” She giggled. “And the first thing I want to do, really two things, is get your mom a gift.”

“You don't have to do that. She's okay with those damned fruitcakes.”

“No, Rashad. I'm speaking of a wedding gift. When they go to the justice of the peace next month, we'll go, too. And we'll bless her with something amazing.”

“Wow!
You
are amazing, Nicky.”

“And, Rashad, the second thing I want to do is to buy myself a car soon. I've gone to a couple of dealerships and I'll have more than enough for a down payment.”

“What? Why?”

“My Mustang is old and getting run down. The engine has problems. The body has dents in it. Our baby is due this summer and I want to drive around in style.”

“I told you no major purchases until after my divorce is final. Can you hold on a little bit longer? Please?”

“But this would be my money, not yours.”

“Kiara is already pissed at me for filing. If she sees you driving a new whip, it'll only make things worse for the divorce. So can it wait?”

“Awww, Rashad.” Nicole felt heartbroken. It seemed everything she wanted wasn't going to easily be hers.

“Look, Nicky, I know you want nice stuff you've never had before and I get that. But cars and diamonds and designer gear aren't going anywhere. I'm going to get all that for you in time. So hold onto your little money. I will drive you to work if I can. And you don't have to put any unnecessary mileage on your ride. Is that cool?”

“I guess it'll have to be.”

Nicole gave in, but deep inside she resented Kiara. She still considered her the woman who got in the way of everything she wanted.

Nicole excused herself to go to the ladies' room. She actually felt sick and ended up kneeling over the toilet and puking. It took her a while to get herself together. When she came back out to the dance floor, she noticed a woman smiling up in Rashad's face. She was a pretty young thing who wore very long burgundy Afrocentric braids. Her lipstick matched her hair color. And she was dressed in a bohemian style that made her stand out.

Nicole walked up to them.

“What's up? What y'all talking about?”

“Happy New fucking Year,” the girl said, obviously slightly tipsy. She was a pretty girl who resembled Keyshia Cole. Nicole didn't see any other women hanging with the chick.

“Rashad, what's going on? Who is she?”

“I don't know who she is. She just started chitchatting with me when you walked up.”

“Well, that conversation is now over.” Nicole grabbed Rashad by the arm far away from the young woman. She told him she wasn't feeling well and convinced him to take her home.

* * *

On New Year's Day, Nicole decided to brush up on her mothering skills. She dialed Myles's cell number. To her surprise, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Myles. How are you? Do you know who this is?”

“Ms. Nicole?”

“Yeah. Wow, you recognize my voice.” She laughed. “I don't know if that's good or bad.”

“You are in my address book. My mommy put you in there and I see your name.”

“Oh, really? What name do you see?”

“N-I-C-K-E-L.”

“Oh, okay, I can tell she doesn't know how to spell,” she said, sounding agitated. “Anyway, I called you to invite you over to our place. You can stay all night. It'll be fun. Like a sleepover.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I'm supposed to go over to Mr. Osborne's house. He has some new railroad cars and tracks and we are going to play with them all day.”

His words stung. “I don't think your dad will be happy about that, Myles. Your father really wanted to see you. And I did, too. Are you sure you can't make it? I've made your favorite cake and everything.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. With chocolate icing.”

“Wow.”

“Plus, we got you a new toy. I'll give you one hint. It flies,” Nicole said and crossed her fingers behind her back.

“Okay, I'll come over there.”

“You will?”

“Yeah, come get me. Right now.”

Nicole told him to get a bag packed. She'd pick him up right away.

On her way over there, she felt so proud of herself. She knew she had the power of persuasion with older men, and now she had skills for young boys, too. First she stopped by the nearest Target and bought the boy an eighty-dollar radio-controlled quad copter.

“He sure better appreciate what I do for him,” Nicole said as she stood in the checkout line.

Then, once she was back in her vehicle and driving, she dialed Kiara's number several minutes before she arrived in Fresno.

“Hello?”

“Kiara, hey, um, it's Nicole.”

“What do you want?”

“First of all, I want to wish you a happy New Year. And secondly, I again want to apologize for how I behaved that day in the parking lot. I'm pregnant and my emotions are all over the place. I'm sure I said things that were offensive.”

“Yes. They were offensive. And your apologies mean nothing to me.”

“I didn't think they would and I want to change that. In fact, I'll have to. Because, like it or not, Kiara, we are going to be part of each other's lives forever.”

Kiara said nothing.

“Um, which leads me to the main reason that I called,” Nicole continued. “I know this is a short notice, but Myles wants to spend time with his daddy tonight if that's okay with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. So, be a sweet woman and let him do that. I'm on my way over there now. He's packed his bag and everything. I know that he's looking for me to arrive any minute now.”

“Nicole, you've seemed to forget something. You may run things over there, but you aren't in charge of anything in Fresno. There's a proper way to do things and this just isn't happening.”

“Kiara, this has nothing to do with being in charge. A man wants to spend time with his kid. This is another major holiday and you didn't make that baby by yourself.”

“So are you an expert on baby making these days?”

“Is this your way of saying no? Kiara, how can you be so cruel? So selfish?”

Nicole pulled up in the driveway of the house where Kiara lived. The home was breathtaking just like she'd remembered it. Manicured lawns. Potted plants on the porch. As she got out of the car, she fought the urge to find a brick and smash up all of the windows. Instead, she composed herself and calmly rang the doorbell.

“Kiara, I'm actually outside right now,” she told her. “Please let me in so we may talk.”

When the door opened, Myles flew through it and ran outside. His mother ambled along right behind him.

“Hi, Ms. Nicole, I'm ready to have fun.”

“No, this isn't how we do things.” Kiara continued to protest as she scrambled after Myles. He had gotten into the front passenger seat of Nicole's car. She turned to Nicole. “You already know what happens when people show up at other people's houses without an invitation. You'd better be glad I don't have a—”

“Mommy, I'm ready to go.”

“Get out of that car right now, Myles. I didn't give you permission to leave.”

“I want to see my daddy. I miss my daddy.”

Nicole walked up to Kiara, hoping she could convince her to do the right thing. “Do you understand what you're doing? You are traumatizing this child when all he wants to do is be with his dad. You haven't let Myles be with his father for the past three holidays. And this would make the fourth.” Nicole was almost shouting. Myles sat in the car with tears streaming from his eyes.