Put A Ring On It (6 page)

But the ringing persisted.

“Hello!”

“Hey. I’m downstairs. Buzz me up,” Shawn said, sounding cheerful.

Wide awake now, Vangie was fuming. “I’m not buzzing shit! You have a lot of nerve, Shawn. We haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

“Why do I have to get cussed out every time I try to spend some time with my boy?”

“Because I’m sick of your shit, Shawn. You can’t pop up whenever you get good and ready. What did you get Yuri for Christmas? Let me guess…another stupid videogame? I hope you know that your son is addicted to videogames. Wanna know why? Because he doesn’t have anything else to do. His father is too busy chasing women to spend any quality time with him.”

“Vangie…” Shawn spoke her name in a soft, patient tone.

“What?”

“It’s freezing out here. Can we discuss this inside the crib?”

“No! I’m in bed, and Yuri is still asleep. Call later and set up an appointment.”

“I won’t stay long,” he said humbly. “I wanna drop something off, and I’ll be out. Gotta get to work by seven-thirty.”

Work?
Shawn was an unlicensed barber with no legitimate income. According to Shawn, he couldn’t afford to pay regular child support because the chump change he made cutting hair in his mother’s basement barely covered his own living expenses.

With a regular job, Shawn could finally start giving her regular child support payments. Envisioning an improvement in her cash flow, Vangie threw on a robe. She made a beeline to the living room, and hit the buzzer.

Shawn strolled inside her apartment, giving off a whiff of manly cologne. He was wearing a black, fur-trimmed, hooded leather jacket. The leather looked expensive…soft as butter. Designer shades, an oversized chrome watch, stylishly ripped jeans, and a pair of Ugg Butte boots indicated that Shawn’s money was definitely up.

Vangie looked at him sideways, and sucked her teeth.
Yuri and I are barely making it, but this mofo done stepped his game up. I’m trying not to black out on this fool, so he needs to hurry up and pull out a gift card to GameStop or Toys “R” Us or somewhere!

Vangie pictured herself grabbing a knife from the kitchen. She got an adrenaline rush from the fantasy of slashing through that butter-looking leather. His jeans could use a few more rips, too. Then she’d work her way down to his boots. She’d enjoy poking holes in those three-hundred-dollar boots, and stabbing a couple of toes while she was at it.

“You take good care of yourself, don’t you, Shawn? Meanwhile, your son might get kicked out of daycare if I don’t come up with some extra money.” Boiling anger put a homicidal glint in Vangie’s eyes.

Cautiously, Shawn started backing up a little. “I’m not trying to go through nothing with you, Vangie.”

“You should be ashamed of the way you treat Yuri. It’s bad
enough that I’m the only one providing for him, but he can’t even pick up a phone and call you because your shit is always out of service, or the number is changed.”

“That last number I gave you was on my sister’s plan, and—”

Vangie motioned with her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You always have an excuse.”

She noticed Shawn’s remorseful expression.
Good! I struck a nerve.
“So, what’s up? Why are you at my door at six-something in the morning?”

“I told you, I wanted to drop something off.”

“Well!” She stared at his empty hands, wondering if he had a bike or something in the trunk of his car.

Wearing a sly expression, Shawn dug into his pocket. He pulled out neatly folded, one-hundred-dollar bills. “I’ve been working a lot. Didn’t have time to go shopping,” Shawn explained as he placed a crisp pile of bills across Vangie’s palm.

The scent of new money wafted up to Vangie’s nostrils, enticing her into a better mood. In fact, she felt so giddy, she had to fight back a grin. Shawn was finally doing what he was supposed to do, but he surely didn’t deserve a smile from her. Vangie refused to even say thank you.

“That’s thirteen hundred,” Shawn piped in proudly.

“I can count!” she snarled.
Deadbeat motherfucker expecting some kind of applause just because he finally decided to step up to the plate.

“I want my boy to have a nice Christmas.”

“That’s all good and everything, but Yuri is getting older. He needs a man in his life. You only come through on Christmas and birthdays, yet Yuri considers you a hero. I have to play Mommy and Daddy, twenty-four, seven…throughout the year. On top of that, I have to deal with him crying his heart out whenever he can’t get in contact with you. Your son needs you, Shawn. You need to man-up and start acting like a father.”

“I’m working full-time,” he said. “Got a chair in this new shop on Girard Avenue. The place is real chill…kicked back vibe. Stays open twenty-four hours. Steady stream of customers around the clock.”

“You finally got your barber’s license?”

“Nah, not yet. I’m working on it, though.”

Vangie gave a skeptical head nod. Shawn had been working on that barber’s license since before Yuri was born.

“The money’s good at the new shop. They let me cut all night if I want to.”

“How come the owner is letting you rent a chair when you don’t have a barber’s license?” Vangie was thinking long-term. She didn’t want to get too excited about Shawn’s additional cash flow if it wasn’t going to last.

“As long as I’m working under a barber who has a license, it’s cool. But I’ma get mine. I want my own place. The young bull who owns the spot is making crazy loot. His name is Brad and he’s only twenty-two years old, but he got a head on his shoulders. Good business sense and he got skills with the clippers.”

“You have a twenty-two-year-old mentor?”

Shawn laughed. “Ain’t that some shit?”

Vangie was shocked that Shawn was being so good-natured about working as an apprentice under a younger man.

“It’s all good. I don’t mind being the protégé. Brad’s not a hot head. He doesn’t carry himself like a young bull. I guess he’s got an old soul. Anyway, I’m trying to get my act together. Time is moving on; my son is in school now. I want to be a better father than I’ve been. Maybe one day, I’ll have my own shop. Something to pass on to Yuri.”

Vangie was impressed. She wanted to personally shake the hand of Shawn’s youthful mentor for helping him get some sense into his head.

“Anyway, Yuri won’t have any trouble getting through anymore.” He reached inside the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a sleek iPhone.

“Nice phone.”

“Thanks,” Shawn said while tapping the luminous touch screen. “I’m calling your cell and the house phone, making sure you got my number on both phones.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, feeling overwhelmed by the new, responsible Shawn. She’d viewed him as a loser and the person responsible for ruining her life for so long, she was baffled by how quickly her heart was softening toward him.

“I gotta head out. So, look…uh, make sure Yuri calls me when he wakes up.”

“Okay. I will.”

“Aye, I’m out.” Shawn sent Vangie a smile that was soft and sexy. His eyes roved over her breasts and hips, seeming to penetrate her cotton nightshirt.

Is Shawn flirting with me? Nah, there’s no chemistry between us anymore. I’m trippin’ because I really need to get laid.

N
ivea looked through the peephole and was shocked to see her mother standing on the other side of the door. Her mother hardly ever visited her. Nivea wasn’t in the mood. She thought about tiptoeing to her bedroom, and ignoring the doorbell. But guilt made her open the door. She didn’t have the heart to leave her mother standing outside in the cold.

“Hello, Mother. What brings you out in the cold?”

Looking grim, Denise Westcott stepped inside. She pulled off her knit hat, shook out shiny salt and pepper curls that gave off that fresh-from-the-hair-salon whiff.

“Your hair looks nice,” Nivea mumbled.

Mrs. Westcott came out of her coat and gloves. “We have to have a serious discussion.”

Oh, God! I’m going to faint if my mother knows about Eric’s double life.

“I need a cup of coffee.” Her mother rubbed her hands together, warming them.

“I’ll make some.” Nivea plodded to the kitchen wearing a bathroom and slippers. She couldn’t imagine what was so important that her mother felt the need to make a personal visit.

“You’re normally an early riser. Why were you still in bed?”

“I’m grown, Mother; I can get up when I please.” Lips pursed in aggravation, she scooped coffee from a Starbucks bag.

“Excuse me for being a concerned parent.” Mrs. Westcott took a seat at the kitchen table.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Your wedding.” Her mother’s tone was morose.

Nivea took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you later on today, but since you’re here…well, my wedding plans have changed.”

“Don’t tell me Eric has gotten cold feet!”

“No, we’re still getting married. But we decided to change the date and trim down the guest list.”

Mrs. Westcott shook her head woefully. “Why are you downsizing your wedding? Money troubles?”

“No. It’s not about money. Eric and I decided that we want a more intimate ceremony.” Her body was aching from fighting Eric. She was physically and emotionally drained from yesterday’s disastrous incident. Having to cook up a story for her mother was depleting her of her last bit of strength. And sanity.

Nivea quietly poured coffee into two mugs. She wanted to collapse inside her mother’s arms, and blab the whole sordid story. But she couldn’t breathe a word about Eric’s secret son. Too embarrassing.

“Something’s not adding up,” her mother said suspiciously. “When is the new date?”

“Next month.”

“Why so soon?”

Her mother was acting like a detective, snooping and asking so many questions, Nivea was starting to sweat. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It’s my wedding; I can change the date if I want to.”

“Out of nowhere, you want to change your date and downsize. It doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense to Eric and me.” Nivea raised her voice a notch.

“Then why are you so upset? Something’s wrong. I can hear the anxiety in your voice.”

“You don’t hear anxiety in my voice; you hear joy!”
What a dumb lie!
Trying to cover up Eric’s deception was giving Nivea a headache. She closed her eyes and rubbed her throbbing forehead.

“You can try and deceive someone that doesn’t know you, but you can’t fool me.”

Anxious under her mother’s scrutiny, Nivea’s hand tightened around the handle of the coffee mug.

Mrs. Westcott leaned forward, and patted Nivea’s fisted hand. “Are you pregnant, honey? Is that the reason you want to speed up the wedding?” Her mother kept a sharp eye on Nivea’s face, reading her expression.

“Of course not!” A lump formed in her throat as she pictured Eric’s love child. She should be the one with Eric’s baby…not that trashy Dyeesha. “Mother, what do you want to talk about?”

Mrs. Westcott took a sip of coffee and then set the mug down. “Your sister is getting married, and she didn’t have the heart to tell you that she has to focus on her own wedding…she can’t be your maid of honor.”

Courtney’s getting married?
It was disturbing news, but Nivea kept a straight face. “I wanted my friend, Vangie, to be my maid of honor, but I listened to you. I allowed you to pressure me into accepting Courtney.”

“You’re off the hook now.”

“It doesn’t really matter, now.”

“You’re right. Your father and I were waiting for the appropriate time to tell you that Courtney selected a date two weeks before your wedding.”

“Two weeks before my wedding? You’ve got to be kidding me. That brat is always trying to upstage me.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Mother, it’s so unfair. Why would you and Daddy go along with that?”

“Well, it’s water over the bridge now that you’ve changed your date.”

“You didn’t know that when you agreed with Courtney’s selfish decision.”

“Courtney didn’t want to steal your thunder, but she and Knox have gotten pretty serious.”

Nivea could feel a hot jealous flush covering her face and moving down her body. “How long has she known him…like a couple of months?”

“They’re in love.” Mrs. Westcott beamed like she was marrying Knox.

“This seriously sucks. My little sister takes a temp job as a receptionist at Temple’s School of Podiatric Medicine. She dates one of the students. And now they’re suddenly getting married! Mother, can’t you see what she’s doing?”

“What is she doing, besides following her heart? There’s no crime in that.”

“Bullshit!”

“Watch your language.”

“Sorry, but—”

“Your sister and Knox say that they’re in love. Your father and I believe them.”

Nivea sucked her teeth in annoyance. “Courtney is an unskilled, unemployable spoiled brat who still lives at home with you and Daddy. She’s only marrying this guy, Knox, to make me look bad.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t. She’s been competing with me her whole life; now she’s trying to make me the laughingstock.”

“If you feel that you’re being upstaged, then it’s your own fault.
You and Eric want to downsize your wedding, so go ahead. I won’t try and stop you. Courtney wants a big wedding and your father and I are going to make sure she has one.”

“That’s my point, Mother. I’ve had to work hard to be a success, but Courtney gets everything handed to her on a silver platter.”

“You can’t blame your sister for having the good sense to marry someone who can take care of her,” her mother snidely commented.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Nivea shot back.

“I know you can, Nivea,” her mother said in a softer tone. “There’s nothing wrong with allowing a man to take care of you. It’s natural for woman to desire the kind of man who can be relied on to provide for her.”

Though spoken gently, her mother’s words hurt deeply. “Are you going to pretend that Courtney isn’t marrying that fake doctor?”

“There’s nothing fake about podiatry.”