Whos Loving You (12 page)

H
oney stepped into her bedroom, looking ravishing enough for me to drop to my knees and press my drooling lips against her hot, sweet pussy. She came through that door the same way she had each time I’d laid eyes on her; Honey was mesmerizing. Her short dress exposed her sculpted thighs, shapely calves, and diamond anklets. Honey was one sexy-ass woman. The type of sophistication Honey exemplified, a woman couldn’t buy or be taught. I wanted to grab her, throw her on the floor, and make love to her all night long. When I saw that gun, I did not move, not even after she placed it on the dresser.

Honey rolled her eyes long and hard. “Grant,” she said, staring at me. If she hadn’t spoken my name, the livid expression on her face would’ve kicked my ass and thrown my behind out of her house, headfirst.

I should’ve been the one who was pissed off. Opening my arms, I stood before my angel. “Baby, you don’t look happy to see me. I do understand I should’ve called, but, baby, I needed to see you. I was hoping you’d be home when I arrived, and if I’d left before you got here, chances are I wouldn’t have had the fortitude to return. At least give me a hug.” Stepping closer, uh, uh, uh, I got a whiff of her captivating Prada perfume.

She didn’t move, so I accepted that as an unspoken yes.

Slowly, I embraced her shoulders, leaning her head against my chest as I exhaled. “Honey, I miss you so damn much, baby.”

Silence followed our magnetic reunion and lasted for at least fifteen minutes, allowing our body language to confirm we were overwhelmed holding one another. I loved the way her body quivered.

Gently pulling away, Honey said, “So what do want from me? Why did you show up at my house unannounced? You didn’t return any of my calls or respond to my text messages. Didn’t you get any of them?”

Whenever a woman was calm on the outside, she was capable of bursting into a rancid rage without notice. I wanted to do my part by not aggravating Honey. Kissing the crown of her beautiful head, I answered, “Yes. I got every single one. Each and every day. And, I did call you once.”

“You consider that a—”

“See? Look,” I said, scrolling through her text messages on my phone. “I wasn’t ready to confront you but knew I had to at some point. So I was in town on business and tried convincing myself to leave, but I couldn’t board my plane to D.C., because I kept thinking of you. So I left the airport, and here I am.”

“So you think you can show up at my home any time you feel like it. Don’t ever step foot on my property without my consent. How would you feel if I showed up at your front door without calling first? And what do you mean by confront?” Honey walked away. “What the fuck do you have to confront me about, huh?” She turned on all the lights in her bedroom.

The huge white canopy bed was illuminated. It complemented the chaise. The bed we’d made love in the two weeks we were together was tempting me to forget about talking, remove my clothes, undress Honey, and feverishly fuck the shit out of her until we were raw and exhausted and our bodies felt paralyzed. I wanted to say, “Quack, quack, quack,” but somehow I didn’t think she’d find my humor amusing.

Rubbing my eyes, I asked, “Is it necessary to have all the lights on? It’s brighter than a sunny day up in here.” No sooner had I said, “Sunny day,” than I regretted it.

Tears filled Honey’s eyes, swarming between the red veins zigzagging across her corneas. When she blinked, I watched the drops fall to her breasts and disappear into her cleavage. “What the hell did you just say?”

I wanted Honey to clarify whether or not she’d killed Sunny, like Benito alleged, but truly I had more tact than to slip in a question on the under. “I don’t want to bicker over my callous choice of words. I apologize for that. I came here hoping you’d tell me the truth about who you are and why you lied to me.” Patting the chaise, I gestured for Honey to sit next to me. I had to look into her eyes when she explained her side of the alleged criminal acts that had transpired. I prayed what she had to say was different from Benito’s confession.

Honey sat next to me, exhaled, then removed her stilettos. As she thumped her left shoe in the palm of her hand, for a moment I became fearful that she might try to nail me in the forehead with her spiked heel, then bury me beneath the peach trees in her backyard, which I’d admired earlier, before the sun had set.

“Where do I begin?” she asked, placing the shoe beside the chaise.

Her question was obviously rhetorical. Patiently, I remained quiet.

“Grant, I miss you, too. I don’t offer any excuses. My past is unchangeable, and my future is unpredictable. My mother kicked me out of her house the day before my sixteenth birthday. I’ve been on my own ever since. Two failed marriages led me to eleven years of working at a brothel and—”

A brothel? Benito was right? I did not want to believe that Honey was a whore. There was no reasonable explanation for any woman pathetic enough to sell her body. Not Honey. No way. Looking deeper into her eyes, I sought clarification. “In what capacity, exactly, were you employed?”

Staring into my eyes, Honey never blinked as she answered, “Prostituting. I was a prostitute for eleven years and a madam for one year afterward. I worked for Valentino James. At first I thought being a madam was above being a prostitute. I was wrong. It wasn’t. It was different but definitely not better. In some instances being a madam was worse. As a prostitute, I degraded myself. Being a madam…” Honey’s words trailed into thoughts. Silence pierced the air between us.

Honey’s honesty definitely wasn’t what I’d anticipated hearing. “So why did you do it? Why did you feel you had to do any of it?”

“Grant, look. I have trampled through way too much bullshit in my life. I don’t give a damn about what you think of me. Do I make myself clear? I wasn’t put on this earth to prove myself to you or anyone else,” Honey said, with tears in her eyes. “But since your world seems to be so fucking perfect, let me ask you a few questions.” Honey sat on the edge of the chaise. “Have you ever slept in a doghouse just to live another day? Have you ever been homeless, Grant? Huh? What about hungry, not knowing when you’d eat again? Have you ever been so afraid that when you lay your beaten and bruised body down to sleep, you’re too frightened to go to sleep, so you lie awake all night, praying for God to rock you into heaven? If you’ve got all the fucking answers, Mr. Perfect, open your goddamn mouth and say something. If you don’t like what you just heard, you get the hell out of my life. But this time you stay gone.”

Instead of being the teacher who’d helped my dad show young entrepreneurs how to make wise investments, today I was experiencing a paradigm shift. I’d become Honey’s student. “No, baby, no. Oh my God, what happened to you?” I asked, forcing back my tears. Wrapping my arms around Honey, all I could think was, How could anyone hurt someone as beautiful as Honey? Then I asked, “So what’s your real name?”

“My birth name is Lace St. Thomas. My deceased sister’s name was Honey Thomas. When Honey passed away, I accidentally gave
my
birth certificate, not Honey’s, to the guy at the funeral home. With so much going on, Valentino getting arrested, and Sapphire giving me a cashier’s check for fifty million, I decided to leave Vegas and take all of my escorts with me in hopes of giving these brilliant young ladies a better life than the one I had. Then I got sideswiped when Sapphire called and said she didn’t
give
me the money and that it was hers, but I can handle her. When I realized I had buried myself on paper, I figured it was best to leave the old me dead and start anew with the name Honey Thomas.”

Honey was right. She, like the women she was now trying to help, including Red Velvet, deserved a fresh start. And I wanted to help them, not hurt them. I reassured her. “Honey, there are no accidents in life, just lessons to be learned,” I said. Then I kissed Honey on the nose, her small, adorable nose.

“Thanks for believing me,” she said, resting her head on my chest.

Believing? I wouldn’t take it that far just yet,
I thought. Curious, I asked, “How do you define the word
love
?” I ran my hand through her hair.

“As something I’ve never had,” she said as she began to cry on my shoulder.

Whoa. That was devastating. Continuing to stroke her head, I said, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I love you. Despite what my father, my mother, and my brother had to say about you. I’m here because I love you.”

Honey exhaled. “If that’s true,” she replied, “then tell me how you define
love
.”

The answer for me was easy.

“Love is what my parents have. Love is everlasting. Love is the genuine giving of oneself, with the intended purpose of uplifting, embracing, and improving another, for the advancement of another. Love makes us smile. Love makes us happy. Love makes us cry, and underneath our sadness, love brings us pure joy. That’s why we can love so many people in so many ways. Our needs are uniquely different. A man desires a love that reassures him that his woman needs and respects him. That she’s going to be there for him through his toughest times. A woman craves a love that constantly shows and tells her she’s appreciated. True love is painless. I want what my mother and father have.”

“That sounds so scripted,” she said, staring at me.

I chuckled. “I know, and you’re right. What can I say. I’m starting to sound like my father.”

“No, it’s not painless,” Honey countered, shaking her head. “Love hurts like hell. It makes you feel like you’re dying. While you’ve been away from me, not calling me, I’ve been upset, sick, even angry at you. But I never stopped loving you.”

I held my angel closer to my heart. “You know what’s ironic? The desperation to be loved can come through the deepest expressions of hate, and if you think about it…we hate because what we honestly need is love. Don’t get me wrong. Oh, I am concerned about the things you’ve done, but I care more about you. No woman has ever made me feel the way you do.”

Cutting her eyes at me, Honey said, “You sure about that?” She looked down at my dick.

I gazed out the window and into the darkness of the night. For the quickest second, I thought about Red Velvet. “Let’s not go there. Whatever happened while we weren’t together is irrelevant.”

Honey whispered, “You haven’t asked me why I killed Reynolds.”

Since she was volunteering, I said, “I’m listening.”

“He raped one of my girls.”

“Well, there you have it. It was self-defense. Or somebody’s defense.” Honey was strong in so many ways, she scared the hell out of me. “Damn, compared to what you’ve gone through, my life is squeaky clean, and you might get bored with me. I’m in no position to judge you. That’s God’s job, baby,” I whispered, pausing for a moment.

“Yes,” she answered, her nails meandering along my spine. Her touch was incredible.

“Baby,” I repeated.

“Yes?” she answered slowly.

“Let me make love to you.”

W
hat had made Tolliver’s wife so insanely jealous that she actually showed up at my job, with the intention of stabbing me in the back? She could’ve killed me! Surely, she must’ve known I wasn’t the only woman Tolliver had fucked. But after seeing her overweight, out-of-shape, too-many-rocky-road-ice-cream-cones behind wobbling out of the club, in handcuffs, I understood how she’d turned him off. Damn, picturing her naked made me want to throw up.

What made some women think a marriage license gave them permission to neglect themselves? If I got married, I would work out twice a day. Once at the gym, and once a day, every day, I was going to ride his dick. Besides, what was Tolliver’s wife going to do? Assault all the women Tolliver had stuck his dick in? I had no remorse for her serving time in jail. At least she would have time to reflect on what she’d done, and I wouldn’t have to wonder if she’d show up at either of my jobs, acting a fool.

Entering my mother’s kitchen, I heard Mama say, “Ronnie, chew your food really good before swallowing.” Then she covered my son’s hand with hers. “Slow down, sweetheart. Your mother isn’t going to leave you again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” my son answered politely and nodded, with his jaws stuffed. When I Joined them at the table, his brown eyes connected with mine, seeking reassurance that I’d take him with me this time. Ronnie didn’t care where I went. As long as he could go with me, he was happy. “Mommy, here. You eat this,” Ronnie offered, handing me half of his turkey sandwich.

“No, baby. Eat your lunch. Mommy ate already,” I lied.

“Velvet, you have to spend more time with Ronnie. I can’t raise him for you,” said Mama. “I’ve taken him to the King Center, the Coca-Cola factory, the Georgia Aquarium, and you’ve taken him where?”

“Ma, don’t say it like that. I do spend time with my son.” Why was my mom having this conversation in front of my baby?

I flipped open my Sidekick and smiled. Grant had texted:
Are you available for dinner tonight?

“When?” Mama asked. “You’re either working or hanging out. Ronnie didn’t ask to be here, you know. You’re going to start showing him some motherly love right now by spending quality time with him,” Mama said, cupping Ronnie’s face in her palms as though he was two years old. “I’m going shopping with my friends today.”

I texted Grant back.
Yes. When and where?

“Not today, Ma. Can’t you shop tomorrow? I have to meet someone in a few hours. I promise I’ll make it quick. Just watch Ronnie until I get back.”

Ronnie sat there, pivoting his head back and forth from my mom to me and eating his potato chips. He was saving his carrot and celery sticks for last to dunk in his ranch dressing.

“Nope. I’m not asking you. Take him with you. That’s my final decision,” said Mama. “He needs you. Look at his plate. If I hadn’t slowed him down, his plate would be empty, and he just sat down right before you walked in. You don’t realize why he eats so fast?” As soon as I opened my mouth to answer, my mother interrupted. “He’s afraid that if he’s not finished eating when you get ready to walk out that door, you’ll leave him. And he’s right. Changing the subject, what’s this I heard about you having a physical altercation at that place?”

Grant texted:
Two Restaurant @ 6.

Damn. What had struck a nerve with her? “Mama?” I said. I tilted my head toward my son, then demanded, “Ronnie, go in the living room and play video games.”

“But I’m not finished eating,” he whined.

His inquisitive behind wasn’t fooling me. He wanted to hear what my mother would say next. Firmly, I told him, “Now, Ronnie. Take your plate with you, boy.” I knew my mother didn’t like anyone eating in her contemporary-style living room, with expensive chinchilla throws draped over the edges of her customized pineapple-colored leather sofa and mocha chairs.

Staring at me without blinking, my mother overruled me. “Ronnie, leave the plate on the table, sweetheart, and go read a book.”

I texted Grant:
Can’t wait!

“Okay, Grandma,” my son said, dashing off to his personalized bookcase, which my mother had designed and engraved with his name on the day he was born. I must admit that having his own book collection—some autographed—and having my mother read with him every day for twenty minutes had made Ronnie more eager to read than to watch television, like he did at our house. I’d noticed that being able to spell words and read complete sentences made my son proud to be smart.

Tilting my head sideways, I wondered how long it took my mother to teach Ronnie how to read a book on his own.

Observing the expression on my face, Mama said, “I taught him in six weeks. Children like consistency. But what they don’t like is having their mother consistently gone. Now, Velvet, tell me what happened last night.” Mama clamped her hands on top of the table, then stared at me.

Closing my Sidekick, I said, “Ma, it was nothing really.” Actually, it was none of her business, but I wasn’t bold enough to say that.

“Velvet, when are you going to stop lying to yourself, to me, to Ronnie? From what I was told, that woman showed up at Stilettos to kill you because you’re sleeping with her husband.”

As usual, my mother knew more than I’d figured, and I had no idea how she’d found out, but I couldn’t lie to her. I was grateful for that woman who’d saved my life. I vaguely recalled her handing me a business card, which I’d stuffed in my bag, without looking at it.

“She’s the stupid one. She’s in jail, and I hope she rots there,” I told Mama. “I didn’t do anything to her. The person she should’ve checked was her cheating husband, not me.”

“Velvet, look at me. She’s a woman.”

“Yeah, a crazy woman.”

“Be quiet and listen. Haven’t I taught you how to respect yourself? I don’t approve of you working at that place, but I can’t make you quit. You don’t know everything, sweetheart. That woman undoubtedly has marital issues that need to be resolved with her husband, but that’s her husband. When you become involved with a married man, you’re putting yourself in the middle of their problems. It’s easier for the other woman to attack you, because no matter what that man has done or continues to do, she still loves him. Whether or not he loves her is irrelevant. What’s real is neither one of them loves you.”

At that moment I received another text message…from Tolliver.
I need to see you. Call me.
No way was I going to call him. Was he fucking retarded?

Go fuck yourself!
I texted him back, then laid my phone on my lap, out of my mother’s reach. I didn’t care if she got a hold of Grant’s messages, but no way was I letting her read what Tolliver had texted. Some of what Mama said might’ve been true, but Tolliver’s wife was wrong for trying to hurt me. I picked up my phone and texted,
Well, now she has time to think about what she should’ve done, because I’m pressing charges against her.

Tolliver texted again.
Velvet, don’t do this to me.

Under the table, without looking at the keyboard, I texted him back.
What part of go fuck yourself didn’t you get, trick?

Slap!
My mother’s hand landed across my cheek as if she were clairvoyant.

“Ow!” I rubbed my aching jaw. “Ma, that’s not fair.”

“Don’t you tell me what’s not fair. What’s not fair is Ronnie doesn’t know his father, and if I leave it up to you, he never will. Honey Thomas found him. We found Alphonso Allen.”

Frowning in disbelief, I said, “You did what?” My burning cheek hung low. “Ma, no,” I whispered, with tears running down my face. She had no right to do that. Especially when I’d told her not to.

Tolliver texted a third time.
Velvet, don’t make me come to your house.

My fingers ran across the keys of my phone.
Try it and you’ll end up behind bars like your crazy-ass wife. Leave me the fuck alone!
What could he possibly want from me?

“This isn’t about you, Velvet. It’s about Ronnie. He has a right to know, and like it or not, I’ve arranged a date for Ronnie to meet Alphonso.”

Frantically, my head swung from side to side as I told Mama, “You have no right to do this!”

Slap!
My mother’s hand landed across my opposite cheek.

This was quickly turning into one of those days when I should’ve gone the fuck about my business without stopping at my mother’s house. “Stop it, Ma. I’m twenty-five. I can make my own mistakes. I’m not your little girl anymore. I’m a woman. And what if they call me for a second audition and my face is messed up because of your misdirected anger. Stop it.”

“You are not your priority. Ronnie is your priority. Ronnie deserves to judge his father for himself. Just because you opened your legs without thinking first and conceived my grandson doesn’t mean you have the right to decide whether or not he gets to know his father. And you’re not running off to Hollywood and leaving him for me to raise by myself.”

I looked down at my phone. No text from Tolliver. I worried that he was serious about showing up at my house. I started crying. “Alphonso made it clear he wanted no parts of us. Ma, my God, you know he raped me.”

Mama’s lips tightened. She exhaled. “If you hadn’t carelessly gone to the beach late at night with a stranger, that wouldn’t have been an option for him, now would it?”

My mom couldn’t say the word
rape
, because that was how she’d conceived me. Just because she loved me and had raised me by herself, she felt I was supposed to do the same with Ronnie. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong like my mother. “So you’re still blaming me?”

“The us part could be true, baby, but Alphonso has an obligation to Ronnie, and he needs to pay you child support so you can stop struggling, working two jobs, and sleeping with married men for money, and start investing time in your child. I’m trying to get you to see the bigger picture. Let him pay for his mistake. The time has come for you to handle yourself and your son differently.”

Conceding to a competition I hadn’t signed up for and couldn’t win, I asked, “So what should I do?”

Another text popped up from Tolliver.
I’m on my way.

Then another from Grant.
Are you on your way?

Suck your own dick, trick!
I texted back.
I’m calling the police right now, and I’m going to show them your messages. I don’t give a fuck about you or your crazy-ass wife!

“Oh, shit!” As soon as I hit the
SEND
key, I’d realized my last message, intended for Tolliver, had gone to Grant.

“You’ll start by dropping all charges against that man’s wife,” Mama said.

How in the hell had we gotten back to Tolliver’s wife? Backing away from my mother’s reach, I shook my head. “No, I’m not. Ma, she deserves to do time.”

“Who in the hell are you to determine if that woman deserves to do time? What she deserves is not to have women like you fucking her husband. Taking money from him is the same as taking her money. How would you feel if someone took your money?”

Suddenly, I remembered my mother’s husband had divorced her for another woman. This was another battle I was destined to lose, but I had to defend my position. “I didn’t take Tolliver’s money. He gave it to me,” I said, trying to think of an explanation to text to Grant since he hadn’t texted me back.

“In exchange for what, Velvet? Don’t you see those men idolize what’s between your legs, not what’s between your ears? What did you have to give him to get a few dollars? Huh? What? Pussy? Suck his dick? What?”

Actually, yes, I did want to suck a dick. Grant’s dick. But he hadn’t texted me back.
Fuck! Mama, shut up!
I thought. I decided to pretend the previous text message hadn’t been sent at all. I texted Grant:
C U @ Two in 30 mins.

I couldn’t change what had happened to my mother. She was forever going to be a bitter woman. That was why no man, not even the ones at the church she went to, wanted to spend time with her. She couldn’t let go of her pain. I knew she lived her life trying to do the right things, but she’d made her mistakes, and I wished she’d leave me the hell alone and let me make mine! Angrily, I exhaled and became quiet. This was an argument I was not going to win, and the reality was I needed my mother more than any other person in my life, including my son.

“Fine. I’ll have Honey call Alphonso and confirm our meeting, and I’ll let you know,” Mama said. “If you don’t want to go with us, I’ll take Ronnie to Los Angeles to meet his dad, and then I’ll take him to Disneyland.”

I was not amused about my mother’s attempt to get me excited about going back to Disneyland. We’d had so much fun when she’d taken me that I still had my Minnie Mouse ears in my bedroom. Ronnie was going to literally do flips when my mother told him they were going on vacation and he’d get to meet his dad and Mickey on the same day.

“Are you done telling me what to do with my life? If so, I have someplace to be.”

My mother walked away from the table. “Ronnie, it’s time to go,” she called. Looking over her shoulder at me, she said, “Baby, you’ve got to learn to let love…love. Take your son with you.”

“Fine.” Yanking Ronnie’s hand, I tugged him straight to my car. I was trying to figure out what my mother had meant when she said, “Learn to let love…love.”

I texted Grant:
I’m on my way.

“Ronnie, sweetheart, go tell Grandma to pick you up some undershirts while she’s out,” I said, sending Ronnie back to my mom. When her door opened, I drove off.