Suspicions (18 page)

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Authors: Sasha Campbell

BOOK: Suspicions
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22
Noelle
I was sitting on the couch in the living room when I heard bass thumping loudly from outside. As soon as a blue Dodge Avenger pulled into my driveway, I cringed. I don't know how many times I had to tell my son to quit driving through the neighborhood with his stereo on blast. We lived in a middleclass neighborhood and were the first black family on the block. Folks stereotyped us enough as it was. Next thing we know, my neighbors will start putting
FOR SALE
signs in their yards.
“You're daddy's home.” I looked down at my grandbaby and smiled. Sierra was such a sweet baby. It was just a shame she had a couple of dummies for parents.
Scott turned the car off, then took the stairs two at a time and came plowing through the door. “Whassup, Mom?”
“What's up is that I told you to come home three weeks ago.”
“I had things to do. Coach is serious about grades and football camp.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. Well, I'm here to tell him, I was holding the big deal.
He gave me that irresistible grin that while growing up made it hard for me to stay mad at him. Scott was a beautiful baby who grew into a handsome man. And I'm not just saying that because he's my son. Fine is fine. That's why I understood why the women loved him. Like his father, he had looks and a personality to match. A natural-born salesman, he had the gift of gab and used it to his advantage. Through high school my son never had a job, yet he always had money in his packets thanks to the stupid females who believed everything that came out of his mouth. And as I said before, part of that was my fault. The second he hit junior high, I schooled him on women and the games we played so that he would never be a doormat to some female. Sometimes I think I trained him a little too well. He'd been breaking hearts ever since.
“What you need to be doing is trying to be a father to your daughter.” I held her up for him to see. Scott leaned forward, took one look, then headed to the kitchen.
“I thought Aisha had a boy?”
“That's not your baby, but this one is.”
He called from the other room “Mom, she's cute, but she ain't mine.”
I rose and followed. “You barely looked at her, yet you know this isn't your child.”
“Man, quit playing!”
“Man? How many times I got to telling you I ain't your man or anyone of them knuckleheads you hang with.” You would think he was a bad kid instead of a B-student with a full athletic scholarship.
“Sorry, Mom, but she's not mine. Do you know how many women would love to have my baby? Believe me, if it was mine, I would know.”
“It's not an
it
, it's a her.” Damn, now he had me saying it.
I heard him mumble “whatever” under his breath. So help me God, I was only seconds away from knocking him upside his head. “I don't know what's going on, but I do know my granddaughter when I see her. She's got the same thick curls and hazel eyes. Come and look at these feet.” I held her up so he could take a closer look. “Those are Gordon feet.”
Scott gave a strangled laugh. “Mama, those can be anybody's feet.” Walking over to the refrigerator, he removed an orange soda, popped the tab, and brought it to his lips.
“So, you're saying you always used a condom? Because you said something different a couple of weeks ago.”
He grew quiet. “I almost always strapped up.”
I looked at the stupid expression on his face. “Almost isn't good enough. Is it Sierra?” I cooed in a baby voice. She smiled up at me. “Look! Look at how she looks when she smiles.” Scott looked, but he still wasn't convinced. “You know what, Scott Marquez Gordon? You better knock that smirk off your face and take this shit serious.” I hated to curse around the baby, but I needed to make sure he knew I meant business. “This is serious. One of those chicks left this baby on the doorstep and I advise you to quit wasting my time and find out which one it is.”
He blew out a long breath. “Fine. I'ma go turn a few corners and see what I find out.”
“You do that.”
“Do what?” Grant said as he stepped into the house. “Hey, Scott. When you get here?”
“About five minutes ago and Mom's is all up in my face.”
Grant gave me a look but remained quiet. Good choice. Grant knew better than to mess with me, especially after the stunt he pulled, waiting until he had already accepted a teaching position overseas to inform me. We'd hardly spoke two words since. “I sure was all up in his face. I told him he needed to figure out which one of them chicks he'd been sleeping with left this baby on my doorstep.”
Grant shook his head, reached for a beer, and proceeded to leave the room. “I'm gonna leave the two of you alone to figure it out.”
“Grant, he's
your
son. The least you can do is talk to him about taking care of his responsibilities, because if you had talked to him about using condoms, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess.”
“If I'm not on
my job,
then by all means you handle your business. Like I said, I'm not getting in it.”
That was always his answer when he felt like I was butting in someone else's business. Hey, if I didn't get involved, then what? If I stayed out of it, neither Scott nor his suspect baby mama would live up to their responsibilities. “Fine, go on in the other room. I always have to handle everything.”
My husband gave me a look that said,
You're pushing your luck
. He was pissed again, although I doubt he ever stopped being mad at me. Grant could be so stubborn at times, Well, guess what? So can I. I watched him move into the other room. Scott started to follow.
“Uh-uh, I'm not finished with you yet. This little girl needs a father
and
a mother. Get your butt out there and find her!”
He strolled out the room, said a few words to his father, then I heard the loud thump of his music again. That boy better not come back until he's found Sierra's mama.
I went upstairs and put Sierra in her crib, then moved into the bedroom in time to catch Grant changing his clothes. “Where you going?”
His eyes darted around the room, making contact with everything but me. “Out for a minute.”
“Out where?” I asked suspiciously. “You just got home.”
“Damn, Noelle, get off my back!”
I winced. His outburst had struck a nerve. Even so, I wasn't about to let him walk out that door before he gave me a straight answer. “You still haven't answered my question.”
He gave me this look like I had a lot of nerve questioning him, but I didn't care. Something was wrong with our marriage. I learned a lot in my thirty-eight years, and I was far from being a fool. We hadn't made love in weeks. Last night I reached over to him and he ignored my advances. I had a right to be nervous because Grant messed around on me before. It may have been nineteen years ago, but he messed around. He never admitted it, but I saw the signs. Even back then he was distant. Going out all hours of the night. We argued a lot and eventually, Grant moved out of our apartment and in with one of his college buddies. For three months I spent every second I wasn't doing hair trying to track his every move, but never discovered anything. We eventually got back together, and when I asked him if he'd been seeing anyone during our breakup, he swore to me he hadn't. I forced myself to believe he was telling me the truth. By then I was pregnant with Scott and all I cared about at that point was making my marriage work.
“I'm leaving in ten days and thought I'd go to the game with the boys tonight.” He couldn't even look at me as he spoke.
I felt my stomach clench. My gut told me he was lying. “You're leaving the country in ten days. What about spending some time with your wife?”
He gave a sarcastic laugh. “For what? Half the time you don't even notice I'm here. You don't have time for me. When I asked you on Saturday if you wanted to go out, you said no. You're too busy with the baby. In eighteen years, ever since Scott was born, you never have any time because you're too busy raising kids.”
I didn't answer because he was right. Sierra had become my life. Wednesday, Grant had asked me to go out to dinner and since I couldn't find a babysitter, I declined. But as far as I was concerned, neither of us was in a position to be selfish right now. We had a granddaughter who needed us.
“I bought that new Tyler Perry movie at Walmart today. How about we have a movie night?”
Grant looked like he was undecided, and that threw me for a loop. Any other time he would have jumped at the chance to curl up on the couch with me and watch a movie.
“And how long will that last before the baby starts crying and interrupts the movie?” Grant looked at me pointedly, waiting for my reply.
“If you're wanting some kind of guarantee that won't happen, then I'm sorry. I can't do that.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” He barely looked at me when he answered.
I moved over in front of him and took his hand. “Grant, what's happening to us? We don't spend any time together. We rarely talk. I'm not understanding what's going on.”
He sighed, then just stood there staring at me. “I don't know what's happening.”
I gave him an evil look. “Answer one question . . . Do you want this marriage?”
Grant flinched. “What the hell kinda question is that?”
He just didn't get it. “One that I want you to answer, because the way you've been behaving lately, I would say the answer is no.”
“That's not true. I love you. Always have. I'm just having trouble adjusting to the fact that our lives are changing.” Backing away from me, he regained his personal space. “There has never been just you and I; there has always been us plus two or three. When are we going to have our time? Just you and me. I planned a vacation hoping to start our new life together and look what happened. We're now grandparents.”
So that's what it was. Sierra. “I'm sorry that you're having a hard time accepting that you are now a grandfather, but life isn't always the way we want it to be.”
“And that's the problem.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked, trying to blink back tears. I was scared.
“I'm not sure where we go from here. Maybe the distance will do us some good.” He came over and wrapped his arms around me. “When I get back from Korea, we'll sit down and work on us . . . I promise.” He kissed my forehead, then stepped away and moved inside the bathroom.
When he got back?
I had a feeling if I waited that long to fix my marriage, it would be too late for us.
23
Tiffany
It had been five days since that fiasco at the club. After spending an evening crying my eyes out, I went to stay at Mama's while she and Candace went to church and announced the bad news. If I thought I was going to get sympathy from my own mother, I was badly mistaken. The second Mama got back from apologizing to our family and friends, she tore into me. I was lying on the couch curled up in a ball when she tossed a shoe at my head.
“I have never been so humiliated in my life!” she screamed.
“Mama, it's not my fault,” I pleaded, but it was useless.
“Yes, it is, because I taught you better than that!” I thought by telling her the truth, she would have at least a little bit of sympathy. What a joke. “That's what you get for spreading your legs! If only you listened to me. Now nobody will want you!” By the time she was done, I was crying all over again. Mama was not at all moved. She made herself a gin and tonic, then called me every kind of slut she could come up with. The more I cried, the more she yelled at me. Hell, she might as well have spit on me because I was left feeling like crap.
The next day I packed my bag and decided to go on my honeymoon anyway. After all, it had already been bought and paid for. Why waste more money if I didn't have to? I had hoped spending five days in sunny Jamaica would brighten my spirits, but by day three, happiness was far away no matter how much rum punch I drank.
I made myself get out of bed, then slipped into a cute pink bikini and headed down toward the beach. I remember when I bought the outfit, I couldn't wait for Kimbel to see me in it. Well, because of me and my big mouth, that wasn't going to happen.
I followed the path to the white sand beach. It was beautiful. The grounds were filled with palm trees and other tropical plants. Reggae music was coming from the bar. Everybody was laughing and having a good time.
If only Kimbel was here with me, then this trip would be perfect.
I don't even know why I was wasting my time thinking about that asshole after the way he beat me upside my head with all his friends watching. Kimbel didn't have any respect for me or our relationship. I had simply been a joke to him. My love had meant nothing, and that hurt more than anything.
I found a lounge chair close to the water and took a seat, then reached for the book I brought with me. I hoped reading about someone else's drama would be a great escape from my own pathetic life.
“Good morning, ma'am. You're looking mighty healthy. Would the pretty lady like another Long Island iced tea?”
I glanced over the top of my sunglasses at the dark-skinned Jamaican brother with a pair of sexy legs standing beside me. After three days at Sandals Montego Bay all-inclusive resort, he knew my drink of choice. “That would be wonderful.” I figured the drunker I was, the less time I had to think. A few minutes later he returned, singing a happy little tune. “What are you so happy about?” I snapped, wanting everyone to feel as miserable as I did.
“Every ting is irie. What's there to be unhappy about?”
“A whole helluva lot, so take all that cheeriness somewhere else.” I shooed him away from me like a pesky old fly. I wanted to wallow in self-pity, and his smiling and singing was making that impossible.
He laughed like I had just told him a joke, then had the nerve to hold out his hand. I thought he was waiting on a tip or something. “My name is Baughn, pronounced like James Bond. Can I ask you your name?” He then had the audacity to take a seat in the chair beside me. It was then with him sitting too close for comfort that I noticed just how attractive he really was. He was wearing shorts and a uniform polo, but even in that monkey suit he was gorgeous with smooth chocolate skin and large dark brown eyes. But what I couldn't miss were his pearly whites since he was grinning so hard you would have thought he was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. He was just too damn happy for me.
I turned my nose up at him. “Uhhhh, excuse me, but aren't you supposed to be working?”
Baughn gave me a devilish grin. “Yes, mon. I'm taking a break. Now, answer my question.”
It was obvious he wasn't leaving until I told him. “Tiffany, now go away.” I dismissed him with a wave, but he totally ignored me.
“Tiffany, what I would like to know is why a woman as beautiful as you is so bitter?”
He actually looked like he was interested and not just being nosy. I don't know why, but I guess I needed someone to talk to who wasn't going to be biased. I told him about finding my fiancé screwing another woman the night before our wedding. I left out the part about him having herpes and me possibly contracting it. “This trip was supposed to be our honeymoon.”
As soon as I was done talking, Baughn started shaking his head. “What a bumbaclot your man is. No worries. Be happy, because you deserve better. There is no way I would do tat to you. My mudda raised me to cherish a woman,” he said with a heavy accent that the longer I listened to it the more I liked it.
Maybe that's the problem. Kimbel's dad was a womanizer. Had been for years. Everyone knew it, even his wife; but there was no way she was giving up the lifestyle she had grown accustomed to.
Baughn rose. “Well, I better get back to work. It was nice talking to you.”
After he left, I thought about what he said. Yeah, I didn't deserve the way he treated me, but that didn't stop me from sitting there thinking about him and that Shakira wannabe stripper he had bent over, touching her toes. As I thought about how Kimbel had made me look like such a fool, I watched Baughn move around the beach, smiling and serving guests. What a carefree life.
I was getting ready to go back to my room when he returned. “Hey,” he began, then looked around like he was making sure no one was listening. “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?”
That was the last thing I had expected to hear out of him. “Isn't there some rule about you dating the guests?”
“Yes, but I won't tell if you don't.” He was cocky, and I liked that in him. He was willing to risk his job to go out with me. Baughn gave me a beautiful smile that caused me to give him one of my own. His joyfulness was starting to be contagious.
“I'm sorry, but I wouldn't be good company.”
“Why don't you let me be the judge of tat. Come wit me and I will take your mind off your problem.”
Sure, might as well. I guess anything was better than sitting in my room feeling sorry for myself. “I guess so.”
“No, you either want to go or not.”
“I said . . .”
“Pretty lady . . . yes or no? It's that simple . . . Tiffany.”
I felt a tingle in my tummy. I liked the way my name sounds with his Jamaican accent. He was standing there looking all sexy and shit, who could resist. “Okay.”
Baughn looked pleased with my answer. “Good. I'll meet you near the gate at eight PM.”
“I'll be there.”
I turned on my heels and headed back to my room with a little pep in my step and a smile. This would be the first time in almost eight months that I went out with someone other than Kimbel.
Get used to it, because it definitely won't be the last
.
“That shit was hilarious!” I was laughing so hard my side hurt. Baughn had taken me to Frank's, a jerk chicken restaurant on the beach. I ain't gonna lie; I had a fabulous time talking to him and listening to him talk about his country with calypso music playing in the background. We had just finished our dinner when this woman came in and walked over to this table in the corner where this dude was snuggled up with this female. Next thing you know she was screaming and going off. You didn't have to be a genius to know that was her man and he was stepping out with another female. Before the hostess could tell them to keep it down, the old girl grabbed the chick's wig and flung it across the room. It landed on the next table in this dude's soup.
“Yes, mon. I do not know which to feel more sorry for. It was pretty funny.”
I didn't mind when Baughn reached down and took my hand and we swung our arms back and forth as we moved to his Toyota Corolla.
“What would you like to do now?” he asked.
“This is your world, not mine,” I said with a shrug of my left shoulder.
Baughn swung me around in his arms. “What I would like to do is make love to you.” He pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was nice. Really nice.
I looked into Baughn's eyes and saw the desire burning there. “Then lead the way.” The old Tiffany wouldn't even dream of going off and being alone with a man she just met, but that person no longer existed. The new me was going to be spontaneous and daring.
Baughn took me to a smaller hotel in the heart of the Montego Bay. “I live wit my mudda,” he said by way of an explanation. I didn't believe him. Men were liars as far as I was concerned, but it didn't matter. Obviously he already had the evening planned, because he didn't even stop at the desk. He took my hand and led me up to the room. He was confident, that was a given. And I'd have to admit that I liked it in him. As soon as the door was shut, he pulled me close to him and I pressed my lips to his and kissed him like a starving woman. His lips were soft and gentle, and his kisses were wet and deep.
“For an American, you are an excellent kisser,” he murmured.
“For an American?” I laughed, then leaned back and gazed up at his face. “I guess that's supposed to be some kind of compliment?”
“Absolutely, pretty lady.” He swooped down and captured my mouth again. I closed my eyes and gave in to what I was feeling. I tried to block Kimbel from my mind, yet he kept popping up in my head. I pretended it was him I was kissing. That it was him who was gently removing my clothes and had carried me to bed. But when Baughn reached inside his pocket and removed a condom, I couldn't pretend any longer because Kimbel and I never used condoms. I didn't make him because I didn't think he had to. I had planned to spend the rest of my life with him. I had trusted him with all my heart. Baughn parted my thighs and slid inside, and the tears started to fall. This was not at all how I was supposed to remember Jamaica.
“Hey, you all right?” He stopped and stared down at me. I nodded, not at all trusting myself to speak. Baugh started kissing one cheek, then my eyes and all my tears away. “It's going to be irie. Time heals all wounds,” he murmured close to my ear. I wanted so desperately to believe that everything was going to be all right. But right now I couldn't see past the hurt or the pain. He continued to shower kisses along my face and when he brought his lips back to mine, I wrapped my arms around him. This time when he moved, I rocked my hips with him, matching his rhythm. Eventually, his strokes became longer and deeper.
“Oh, yes,” I cried out. He felt wonderful inside of me. For the next few minutes, I couldn't think of anything except how good he was making me feel.
“You like, mon?”
“Yes, I like, mon.”
It was different. It wasn't at all the way it had felt with Kimbel. Baughn's strokes were smooth and controlled, like he had all the time in the world. He had skills and the sex was great, but what was missing was the emotional attachment that Kimbel and I had. Without my heart being involved, it was just sex. At least it was good sex.
“That's it. Just relax . . . be happy. Yes . . . all I want is to make you feel good.”
He was definitely doing that. Despite how wrong it was, he felt wonderful. It wasn't long before I was crying out his name, and it was like he waited until he was certain I was satisfied before he came. I laid there in his arms thinking maybe having someone like Baughn in my life might make getting over Kimbel easier.

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