Unconditionally Single (19 page)

W
alking on sunshine.

Great sex with the man I loved made me feel I could walk on water. I opened my bedroom blinds, welcomed the sun rays, blue sky, white clouds. I slid back the patio door, invited in the crisp morning breeze. Grant was no longer torn between Jada and me. I put it on him so good he’d forgotten about her.

“Jada who? Jada what?” I said, then laughed. She could go find her own man to show off in her suite. I knew he’d call. I knew it! My lips spread wide with pride and joy. I waited, then answered on the third ring, “Hey, you,” staring out my patio window.

“Honey, hey. It’s Grant.”

“I know. I’m glad you called. Baby, I apologize for all the confusion. I’m glad we’re back together. Wanna come over tonight and explore my pleasure chest?” I said, opening the pleasure chest at the foot of my bed. I had to get some new sex toys. A triple bullet—two for me, one for Grant—would be nice.

“Nah, I gave that some thought and my coming over is not a good idea. Things between us can never be right.” He chuckled. “Damn, you’re the best. Obviously, I can’t resist you. Look, I don’t know the right way to say this but…” He paused.

Grant was not leading the conversation in a direction I wanted to follow. He sounded happy, like he was on his way someplace without me. But he also sounded like he’d made up his mind without my input, like he was pleased we were fuck buddies last night, but all good things must end. I prayed my instincts were wrong.

“But what?” I exhaled. My breath stopped at my throat. I wiped my tears. I was tired of putting my heart on a merry-go-round that abruptly stopped. I was tired of being the one getting flung off, waiting for him to make up his mind whether to let me ride again. I paced in front of my window.

“I’ve decided to ask Jada to marry me.”

That was it! If there was ever a fucking straw, that was the one that broke my spirit. “What? You’re not man enough to tell me to my face? You call me on the fucking phone to tell me this shit? You weren’t calling that bitch’s name last night when you came inside me. Why didn’t you stop her from leaving your house last night if you want to marry her so bad?”

“Honey, listen. Truth is, outside of sex, you’re no good for me.”

“Fuck you and that black bitch!”

“I love you too,” he said, then ended the call.

Brain? Courage? Heart?

I could go over there, burn his house down with him in it, then shoot his barbequed bones. I could confront him about why he’d fucked me last night, or confess my love one more time. I got in my car, went to my bank, requested a cashier’s check for eighteen million dollars.

“Forget, Grant. I’m spent. She can have his ass.”

“If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it,” became my new ring tone. I took my finger off my ignition and answered, “Hello.”

A soft voice said, “Madam?”

“Madam? Who is this?” I asked.

“It’s me. Girl Six.”

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the door open. I swear it was an accident. I thought you were leaving behind me. I—”

“Wait. Stop.” I asked her again, “Where are you?”

“I’m good. At a homeless shelter,” she said.

“I can’t have any of my girls living in a shelter. Tell me where, I’ll make arrangements to get you and bring you home.”

“I’m scared. You’re going to beat me again.” Girl Six cried.

That part of my life, abusing, using women, was behind me. “I promise you that will not happen. Let me help you. I owe you that much.” I wrote the address and number to the shelter, ended our call, and started my engine.

I drove along Piedmont, entered Buckhead Premier Palace. Eight police cars, two ambulances, and two coroner’s vans surrounded the condo I’d stayed in with Hunter. “Every
man
for himself,” I muttered as I bypassed the scene. I parked in front of Grant’s condo, got out my car, and banged on his door.

Valentino answered. I asked him, “What’s going on over there?”

“It’s breaking news. Some nigga named Hunter, his kids, and his wife…shot in the back of their head.”

Numbness consumed my body. That could’ve been me. Kick it with the wrong man, marry him, have his babies, inherit his debt—credit cards, taxes, child support, gambling—all of that becomes yours. Becomes a monster you lose all control over.

Hunter was a good man who had made some bad decisions. And now he was gone. And so was my anger at him. The anger I had for Grant vanished too. I gave my heart a clean slate. Life was too precious. I wasn’t calling him back.

I reached into my purse, pulled out an envelope, handed it to Valentino. “We have done some wild things together.”

Valentino nodded. “Thanks. We sure have. That’s why I always wanted you on my team. I apologize for kidnapping your ass. What do you say we start all over? Get us some new escorts.”

“That’s out.” I shook my head. “Girl Six is in this shelter.” I handed him the paper. “I want you to look after her. Go get her, set her up with a house, a car, and cash. Do something commendable for a woman for once in your life.”

“I gave all them bitches equal opportunities to make good money.”

“And indirectly you made them all millionaires. In your own way, you done good,” I told him.

“Would’ve done better if you were my woman instead of my madam. Lace, don’t take this the wrong way but…a nigga was feeling your ass.”

The business we were in marinated in corruption. The kind of corruption that caused me to think I was better than Valentino, better than Sapphire, better than my escorts, better than my mother. Sometimes we all did what was best for us, forsaking all others. I could no longer judge Valentino without first looking in the mirror.

I kissed Valentino on the cheek. “You’re okay in my book, Anthony Valentino James. I forgive you.” I tapped the paper in his hand, got in my car, then left.

Good pussy could make the hardest nigga soft and the softest man hard.

I
f I could kick myself in the ass for thinking with the wrong head, I would.

Honey knew what she was doing and she got exactly what she deserved. Good pussy was not the determining factor for my staying with her. Nor was her beauty, her body, or her booty. The drama she’d brought was lethal. Our relationship had ended before she showed up at my house unannounced last night.

I had no regrets for flying to Atlanta to find Honey. No regrets for almost paying her ransom. No regrets for falling in love with her. But I did regret fucking her last night. I was not proud of breaking Honey’s heart by telling her about Jada. I was not proud of letting Jada walk out my door. I should’ve stopped her. I was not proud that my selfishness hurt two women that I cared for.

Despite my shortfalls, I was a good man and deserved to marry a good woman.

Honey was the source of my frustrations, the reason my woman left my house. Did Honey think, “Jada’s gone, I won Grant”? People won trophies, awards, medals, but not people. Follow my heart; be with Honey. Follow my head; fight for Jada. Men who married trophy wives masked their misery behind their egos. Eventually the mask had to come off. The only man I knew who’d never worn a mask was my dad. I had to call my old man for advice.

Mom answered, “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Mom. Dad around?”

“Hold on…Grant! Get the phone…You okay?” she asked me.

“Yeah, Ma. I’m good. You?”

My dad said, “Hello.”

“I’m good, baby. Come see us soon. We miss you,” Ma said before hanging up.

“What’s going on, son?”

I didn’t censor what I had to say. “Man-to-man, Dad, I need your advice. Jada was here last night. Honey came by. Jada left. And Honey put it on me real good.”

Remorse for my actions lingered. Honey deserved better. I should’ve been strong and resisted her. Too late.

“Son, you have got to take control of both situations.”

“I know, but how? If I fucked Honey that easily, how do I know I won’t give in to her the next time we’re alone?”

Respect. If Honey disrespected herself, that did not give me permission to treat her the same way. I took advantage of her vulnerability. The pussy was great while my dick was hard. In retrospect, neither one of us benefited. Make-up sex is great. Break-up sex, all bad.

My dad said, “Next time she drops by—hopefully she won’t—but if she does, don’t let Honey in your house. If she’s outside, you won’t go outside. You’re going to mess around and lose Jada before I make it to the game.”

“Seriously, Dad. What should I do?”

Responsibility. I had to verbally acknowledge my obligations, exhibit control, and apologize to Jada and Honey. Why should I apologize to Honey?

“Son, if you care for Jada, do what I wanted to do with your mom but didn’t.”

“What’s that?”

“If you believe Jada is the one, get her far away from Honey for as long as you can. Take Jada on a premarital honeymoon. Treat her like she’s your wife before you marry her, then at the end of the premarital honeymoon, propose. Set a date, marry her, and take her on another honeymoon. Hey, thanks to this conversation, I’m going to take your mother on a second honeymoon and pretend it’s our first. Thanks, son.” Dad shouted, “Hey, honey, come here.”

“Bye, Dad.” I had to smile; their marriage was enviable.

I went to my office, called my travel agent, called my driver, packed two suitcases with casual wear, formal wear, swim trunks, sweats, and the diamond I’d bought for but never gave to Honey. I took a chance, had my driver take me to the florist, then to Jada’s house. Sat in the car. Stared at my phone. Should I call? Should I knock on her door? How would I feel if she showed up at my house under similar circumstances?

“Haaa.” I was here now. I rubbed my brows. Sat in the car.

After thirty minutes of contemplation, I picked up the flowers, got out the car. A doorman greeted me before I knocked.

“How may I assist you?” he asked.

“Is Jada here?”

“Is she expecting you…mister?”

“Grant. I hope so,” I said, shifting the flowers to my opposite hand.

“Wait here.” He closed the door. Moments later the door opened. “Ms. Jada Diamond Tanner is unavailable for your presence.”

I deserved but hadn’t expected that. I handed him the flowers. “Give these to her for me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hill. Ms. Tanner does not accept unsolicited packages. Have a nice day.”

Unsolicited?
“Jada! Jada! Baby, please!”

The door opened wider. I smiled. “Baby, I’m—”

“Sorry-ass motherfucker, you’d better raise up off my mother’s steps and make tracks outta here. You make my mother cry one more time, and I am going to beat your ass personally. Get the fuck off my mother’s property and don’t come back unless she invites you here,” Darius said, then slammed the door.

That was cool. That was her way of punishing me for not stopping her when she left my house. I should’ve put Honey out. This was all Honey’s fault. I hated her. She knew she was ruining my life—that’s why she hadn’t called.

“Take me back home,” I told my driver. Getting in my limo, I called my travel agent. “Yeah, cancel my trips to the Grammys, the All-Star Game, and Fisher Island.” I opened the ring box. One woman would love to have it; the other, I doubted she’d accept my proposal. I closed the box. Should I close this chapter in my life? Move on? Forget about Honey and Jada?

Approaching my house, I lowered the window.
What the hell?
Three police cars were in my driveway. “Stop here,” I told my driver.

Two cops headed toward the limo. They placed their hands on their guns. What had Honey gotten me into now?

“Do you live here?” the taller officer asked me.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?”

“Is this your home? Are you Grant Hill?” he asked.

He wasn’t friendly. I wasn’t guilty of any criminal actions but I was extremely nervous. I answered, “Yes, but what’s the problem?”

“Step out of the car,” he said without answering my question.

I opened the door. Stood face to face with the officer. “What is the problem?”

“I have a warrant for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you….”

“Wait, there must be some mistake. I’m sure I can explain. What are the charges?” I’d paid all my parking tickets, moving violations. There was nothing I’d done or failed to do that would warrant my arrest.

“Four counts of murder. Turn around before I have to add resisting arrest.”

This couldn’t be happening to me. “I’ve never had a fight, officer, let alone killed anyone. This is all a mistake.”

The handcuffs tightened around my wrists. He escorted me to his car, placed his hand on top of my head, then pressed down on my head, shoving me in the backseat. All I could think about was who to call first. Not my attorney. He’d delay the case to maximize his fees. Definitely not my parents—didn’t want to upset my mother. Jada would either come to my rescue or terminate all contact with me. Benito would say all the wrong things. Valentino wasn’t trustworthy. Honey. Honey would know how to get me out of this, and Jada would never have to know it happened.

S
erenity. Me time. Home was sweet.

Beyond love, there was a place of clarity. If we searched, in the corner of the mind where one meditates, we found peace. To center all thoughts, erase them, sit in silence and wait, was powerful beyond love. In this precious moment where we learn to wait for truth, for hope, for faith, we come face to face with our Creator, where love begets love without judgment.

I lay in my bed gazing at the ceiling. Closed my eyes, discovered that when I was with me, inside of me, I was at peace. Truth was, there was no war inside of me, a place where fire and water coexisted. My recipe for truth, hope, and faith allowed me to love myself.

Exposing, sharing my ingredients for love, made me vulnerable, imbalanced, dependent upon others to deliver what I thought I needed from them. When I shared my truth, I trusted a man to do the same. Each time he’d lie to me, he’d strip away a layer of my peace, spoiling my recipe for love.

If I shared the hope that encompassed my dreams with a man who had no hope for himself, or a man whose only hope was for me to fail, another layer of my confidence was stripped away. Give my faith to a nonbeliever…perish.

Transcendent peace within my spirit, I sat alone in the corner of my mind, a tiny space whose sole purpose was to protect my heart. I pulled up a chair, visited with my spirit for a spell. I was at home with forgiveness.

I forgave Grant, I forgave Jada, I forgave my mother and my father, and I forgave myself. There was no room inside me, inside my home, inside my heart, for hate. Hate was far too great and could not survive without my explicit permission. I stood tall, picked up my sign marked
RESERVED,
placed it on my chair. I’d be back, but the time had come for me to move on, accepting that I could love Grant from a distance.

Tap. Tap.

I recognized the knock. “Come in, Onyx.”

“You okay?” she asked, hugging me. “I can take care of Grant if you’d like.”

I hugged her, smiled. “I’ve made peace with our past. I wish him well.”

She shrugged. “If you love him, I like him. Dinner is almost ready. You joining us? Valentino is bringing Girl Six.” Onyx cheered.

“I’ll be there shortly. I want to make a call to a friend.” Rolling onto my stomach, I dialed, pressed the speaker button, waited for an answer.

“Hey! Honey, how are you?”

I countered, “No, how are you?”

Her voice was crisp. Excitement streamed into my ear. “I’m doing so well. My agent says he’s getting calls for me to read more scripts and I’m not done with this film yet. Oh, please tell me you and Grant are coming to the private screening.”

“How’s Ronnie?”

“He’s so excited about his new school and he has an inseparable friend. My mom is good too. I pray for you all the time, Honey. I’m so happy you’re safe. I haven’t had the chance to thank you, so I’m saying thanks now for all you’ve done for me.”

Tears formed in my heart, rolled down my face. I was at peace. “I’ll be at your screening no matter what.”

“And Grant?”

“You’ll have to personally invite him.”

“It’s okay. There’s good men out there. I’m dating my producer, Brennen.”

My brows raised. “Brennen Mosely?”

Red Velvet chuckled. “Yeah. He’s so nice to me, my son, and my mom. Well, I’ve got to get back on the set. I’ll call you soon with the details for the screening. Take care of yourself, Honey. I love you.”

“Sure thing. Bye.”

I love you.
Red Velvet had no idea how much her words meant. Wiping away my tears, I went to the dining room and joined my girls.

Onyx hugged me once again. “You okay?”

I nodded, refusing to complain about her constant hugs. Onyx expressed her love physically, Red Velvet verbally. I sat at the head of the table. Onyx blessed the food. I motioned for Girl Six to sit next to me. “You look good. You’re family. My home is your home.”

She smiled. “Valentino told me I could pick out my own house and he’d pay for it.”

Onyx said, “Girl, take the cash and come stay with us.”

“I’ll think about that.”

I interrupted. “I have something to say. I want y’all to know, each of you are free to leave here whenever you want. If you want to go back home to your families, go. You have my blessings. You’re also welcome to stay and work at Sweeter than Honey, start your own business, or work for someone else. It’s up to you. Show of hands, who wants to move out?”

Onyx raised her hand and spoke first. “I’m never going back to my husband. I’m staying here with you and I’m going to file for a divorce.”

Fifty-fifty. Half the girls wanted to go home but were scared to leave. I had no idea they were afraid of leaving me. The other half liked Atlanta, liked not living or being alone, and wanted to continue running the agency. Girl Six was undecided.

“We’ll have a new beginnings celebration. Onyx can arrange the big bash here at the mansion, invite our clients, and all the who’s who in the ATL,” I said.

“I’m on it,” Onyx said, smiling. “Including Lil Wayne?”

“Absolutely. Put him at the top of my list. One last thing. You are your sisters’ keepers. Always take care of one another.”

I heard, “If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it…” I raced to my bedroom and saw it was a blocked number. Reluctantly I answered, “Hello?”

“Honey, I’m glad you answered. It’s Grant. I need you.”

Grant’s “I need you,” seemed desperate. “I’m listening.”

“I’m in jail and you have to get me out.”

“What did you do? Get in a fight with Jada?”

“No. I’m in here because of you,” he lamented.

“Me?”

“If Valentino wouldn’t have used my cell to call nine-one-one to report the murders of Hunter Broadway, his wife, and two kids, who were all killed in the condo where Sapphire placed you under protective custody, I wouldn’t be in jail. It’s all your fault, so the least you can do is bail me out of this—”

I’d heard enough. Grant didn’t need me. He needed an attorney. I ended the call, silenced my ringer, and returned to the dining room.