Up to No Good (30 page)

“Well, I know that you and Pop went into a lot of debt for our wedding. It’s not your fault that it didn’t happen, so you shouldn’t take the entire hit.”

I watched her open it, and the look of surprise on her face was well worth it. Ultimately, this was all part of my plan to get Keisha back, but I honestly did like her parents, so being able to make Gloria happy was an added bonus.

“Oh my God, Darnel. This is eight thousand dollars. We can’t take this. We can’t take eight thousand dollars from you.”

“I thought I was going to need it for a down payment on a house, but it doesn’t look like there’s going to be a house. So please, Momma, let me do this for you. You and Pop have been good to me.” If my plan worked and Keisha and I did eventually want to buy a house together, I still had another fifteen thousand saved up. I liked her parents, but I wasn’t stupid enough to give them everything.

“Okay,” Gloria agreed with no further argument. She got out of her seat to hug and kiss me.

After she sat back down and took a moment to get
over her excitement, she asked, “So, how you doing, honey?”

“I’m all right. But I’m not going to lie. I still can’t believe Keisha did this to me.”

She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know what happened. I mean, I’ve heard things, but I’m not really sure what happened. And Keisha won’t tell me anything.”

What was she supposed to tell them, that she was a whore?

“Maybe she’s right, Momma. You really don’t want to know what’s going on. Trust me; the truth ain’t pretty.” I stood up like I was preparing to leave, but she gave me a look that said
You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.

“Darnel, I want to know.”

“Are you sure? ’Cause I’m telling you, it’s pretty hurtful stuff.”

“I’m sure.”

“All right, but after you read this, just remember that in spite of everything that’s happened, I love your daughter.” I handed her Keisha’s diary.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the truth. Some of it might be hard to read, but I’m going to be right here.”

She opened the book, looked at the first page, and asked, “Is this Keisha’s handwriting?”

I nodded. “I highlighted some of the important parts.” Thank God she didn’t ask how I had gotten a hold of her daughter’s diary.

An hour later, we heard the front door open and then a pair of stilettos clackety-clacking quickly through the house. We looked up to see Keisha
standing in the doorway to the living room. I knew she’d be stopping by after work to visit her parents on their anniversary. She was getting so predictable.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted.

I smiled and nodded toward her mother, who was slowly closing the diary.

“Oh no.” Keisha didn’t take her eyes off the diary, but I could still see the fear in them.

“Darnel, you son of a bitch.”

Suddenly, Gloria screamed, “I know I raised you better than this!” She marched over to Keisha, raised her hand in the air, and, with full force, slapped her daughter across the face. It left a bright red handprint.

Keisha burst into tears. “Momma!”

“Don’t you
Momma
me, Keisha. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“He’s the one who did this.” Keisha pointed at me, then lunged, but Gloria inserted her large body between us.

“He’s the one who wrote this?” Gloria waved the diary toward Keisha. “Do I look like a fool? I know your handwriting, girl. I can’t believe I raised you to be so nasty.”

“Momma, you don’t understand. This is just Darnel’s way of trying to come between us. He’s stalking me, Momma.”

“Shut it, just shut it, all right?” She raised the diary as if she might hit her with it. “You slept with this man’s friends! Gave them stars for their performances, and you expect me to believe
he’s
stalking
you
?” I ’d never seen her so mad at Keisha. “I never thought I ’d ever say this about my own daughter, but Keisha, you’re a whore.”

I could see the hurt in both mother and child as their tears flowed freely. I went to Gloria and placed my arms lovingly around her shoulders.

Keisha threw her hands in the air. “I hate you, Darnel!” she screeched.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this, Momma,” I said smugly. I hugged her protectively as I heard Keisha stomping down the hall and out the door.

Once again, mission accomplished.

T.G.I.F. As a hardworking man, I ’d always looked forward to my weekends, but ever since I became involved with Sandra, they were even more special. I could come home from work on Fridays knowing that she and I would have three nights and two days of uninterrupted time together. I loved every minute I spent with her. I had fallen in love with this woman. That was part of the reason I was afraid to tell her about my lung cancer.

In the time since my cancer diagnosis, I had been wrestling with a healthy dose of denial. I had the phone number of the oncologist, but I had yet to call him. Once I saw a specialist and set up a schedule for chemotherapy and radiology treatments, then my disease would be a reality—one I would have to share with Sandra. Every time I thought I had worked up the nerve to tell her what was happening inside my body, I looked at her sweet face and decided I didn’t have the heart to take away her smile. So instead, I decided to wait a few weeks before making my appointment, and I was determined to enjoy every last minute of the remaining
days when our relationship wouldn’t be affected by cancer.

Every weekend that we’d been together, I ’d given Sandra some token of my affection. It started out with a bouquet of flowers, a box of gourmet candy, or a nice bottle of wine for us to share. Having lost her father at a young age, I figured she probably wasn’t accustomed to getting gifts from a man. I think that’s why her face lit up every time I brought her something. It didn’t matter if it was something as small as a single rose; she just seemed to love getting gifts. And I think I felt as good giving them to her as she felt receiving them. I loved to make her happy.

Lately, my giving had become a little more extravagant, moving from flowers and candy to cashmere sweaters and gold jewelry. I think subconsciously I was trying to make her as happy as possible so that those feelings might carry her through the rough times that were ahead. The way she responded, with her whole heart, body, and soul, she took my breath away—not to mention the added bonus that as the gifts got a little more expensive, the sex seemed to get more explosive. It was a win-win situation for both of us. I soaked up every moment, planning to remember them in the coming days when chemotherapy would be beating me up.

During the week, I had to hide Sandra’s gifts in the trunk of my car. It wasn’t that I was worried about her finding them in the house if she happened to come over. It was Jamie I was worried about. She had never liked to see me spending money on any female but her. And, truthfully, it was never much of an issue, because my heart was never in it with those other women, so my wallet wasn’t opening too often anyway. But this time was different. My feelings for Sandra were genuine,
and I was gladly spending money on her. I knew that eventually Jamie would find out, but she would just have to deal with it this time, because Sandra wasn’t going anywhere. No one, including my daughter, was going to tear apart the relationship we were building.

Plenty of women from my past had been trying, though. After I brought Sandra to my church, word spread, and I ’d had plenty of unexpected visits and phone calls from women thinking they could draw my attention away from her. But each of them left unsatisfied. In the past, I would tell a woman not to expect much more than sex from me, because I was not the relationship type. Now I was telling these women not to expect
anything
from me because I
was
in a relation-ship—a committed one. Needless to say, plenty of women went away unhappy.

One night, I took Sandra out to a sushi restaurant where we happened to be seated across the room from a woman I had fooled around with for a short while. The affair hadn’t ended well, and she seemed determined to be a thorn in my side from that point on. This night, she was having dinner with her husband, but she still didn’t waste any time coming over to our table to speak her mind.

“James Black, you oughta be ashamed of yourself for keeping this
young
woman out so late,” she said, twisting up her face in disgust at the word
young
.

“Thanks for the advice, Sister Lucille. But Sandra is a grown woman and quite capable of making her own decisions.”

“I’m sure she is,” Sister Lucille continued, “but does her father know she’s out with you?”

To Sandra’s credit, she did not jump in Lucille’s face the way I think Jamie might have. She remained cool,
calm, and collected and let me handle the situation—which I did gladly.

“Actually, Sister Lucille, Sandra’s father passed away quite a long time ago. But let me ask you something: Does your husband know you were out with me the night before your wedding anniversary last year?”

Sandra stifled a laugh. Again, I was proud of the way she was handling herself. She was confident enough that it didn’t even faze her to hear me talking about a past affair. And why should it? She knew for sure I was going home with her that night.

Sister Lucille, on the other hand, was quite ruffled by my question. She looked nervously back at her husband, then quickly said, “Well, y’all enjoy your meal,” and rushed away from our table.

When she was gone, Sandra lifted her cup of sake and proposed a toast. “To letting go of the past.”

“And looking forward to the future,” I added before downing my drink.

Now, I was looking forward to taking my beautiful date out to dinner again, but not before I presented her with another gift. We had been at the mall together recently, and I had noticed her checking out the designer purses in Saks. I returned to the store without her and picked out a midnight blue leather bag for her. I ’d had it specialty wrapped and purchased a card to go with it. I ’d obviously never been the mushy type, but with Sandra I found myself writing verses of love poetry inside the card. This woman just did something to me that brought out romantic tendencies I never knew I had.

When she showed up at my place, I was happy to see she wore a formfitting dress that would look perfect with the new bag I ’d bought. I couldn’t wait to give it to her.

“You ready? I’m starving,” she said after giving me a long, wet kiss.

“Just let me get something before we go.”

When I brought the gift out from my bedroom, where I ’d put it earlier, her eyes lit up in the way I ’d hoped they would.

“Oooh, that’s a big one. What’s in it?”

I laughed at how cute she was. “It’s not always the size that matters, you know,” I teased.

“Maybe, but ain’t no denying I’m a woman who loves a big package,” she said with a seductive glance toward my crotch. My manhood immediately sprang to attention. My lungs might have been in trouble, but my equipment below was still working just fine.

“Go ahead, open it.”

She tore off the paper, and her smile got even bigger when she saw the Saks logo on the box. I was looking forward to the expression I just knew would be on her face once she saw the bag I ’d picked out. But her reaction was nothing like I expected.

“Oh …,” she said, sounding a little deflated. “It’s cute. Thanks, honey.” I got a lousy peck on the cheek. And even worse, she didn’t even bother to take out the card and read it before she set the box down on a nearby end table.

“Okay, can we go eat now? I’ve been craving lobster all day.”

I didn’t answer her for a second, because I was still trying to decipher the unexpected response I ’d gotten. Where was the giant hug and kiss I ’d been anticipating? I mean, I had gotten more appreciation after the sterling silver necklace and earrings I gave her last week. This bag had cost a whole hell of a lot more.

“But I thought you’d be happy about getting a Coach bag. You don’t like it?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she said blandly. “It’s nice. It’s just that …” Her voice trailed off, and instead of looking happy, she looked utterly disappointed, like the kid who gets a pair of flannel pajamas for her birthday.

“It’s just that what?” I couldn’t imagine what was wrong with the bag. Whenever I bought Coach for Jamie, she couldn’t thank me enough. But Sandra seemed totally unimpressed with my gift. “Well, it’s just that what?”

“It’s just that I was looking at the Gucci bags in Saks, and when I saw the box, I thought—”

“You thought I spent more than two thousand dollars on a handbag?” I asked, amazed that this five-hundred-dollar purse was suddenly something so unimpressive.

She looked confused as she said, “Yeah. Why? You don’t think I’m worth it?”

“Now, Sandra, you know how special you are to me. But cut me a little slack here, will you? I need some time to get used to the idea of spending as much on a handbag as I do on my mortgage.” I chuckled and tried to make my voice sound lighthearted, but it didn’t stop her from pouting.

“But it’s what I want.”

“Hell, baby, I want a Maybach, but you don’t see me being unhappy rockin’ my Lex,” I joked, though part of me wasn’t finding this very funny. This was the first time Sandra’s behavior reminded me of the spoiled tantrums Jamie sometimes threw.

“James, this is not funny to me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with two people in love giving each other what they need, even if it means sacrificing once in a while. I mean, don’t I always give you all the sex you can handle?” She reached out and caressed my arm. “Even when I’m really tired, don’t I always take good care of you? Don’t I let you bend me into any position
you desire, no matter how uncomfortable? Aren’t you the one who told me you’ve never met a woman who was so eager to give head whenever and wherever?”

As she spoke, I could feel myself growing harder and harder. And the more turned on I became, the less important that two thousand dollars felt. Oh hell, what would it hurt to give the girl what she wanted? I had no doubt that if I did, she would make sure to return the favor, and at that moment, my imagination was running wild with the possibilities.