Big Girls Do Cry (30 page)

I picked up the receiver, but before I could start to dial, Tony woke up. “Hey, you. You calling room service?”

“No, I was thinking about calling my sister and letting her know I was okay.”

“That’s right. You haven’t called home yet, have you?”

“No, and it’s gonna be a problem.” That part wasn’t a lie. Last thing I wanted to hear was Egypt talking shit all Christmas Day, but I had no doubt that was exactly what would happen.

He sat up. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain it to them.”

I shook my head and put the phone down. “That would make it worse.”

“Fuck it. They’re just gonna have to get used to it. We’re getting married and having a baby. Shit, we’re family now.” He got out of the bed and came to my side, wrapping his arms around me.

If I had the guts, this would have been the moment for me to tell him the truth about the baby. But he felt so good pressed up against me that I didn’t want the moment to end. Plus, I knew he was already hurting over his divorce, so I couldn’t bear to bring him any more pain. I needed more time. Dammit, why couldn’t
the baby just be his so we could get in the truck and go back to Queens right now? With a thirty-thousand-dollar payday looming, though, I wasn’t leaving Virginia until I had that money in hand. So, until I could figure out this whole mess, I would just have to play my cards right and keep everyone in the dark.

“Tony, what if I told you I want to keep our engagement a secret?”

“What for? You embarrassed of me?”

“No, baby. That’s not it at all. I just want to wait until the right time to spring this on them.”

“Spring it on them? The right time? What are you trying to say?” The volume of his voice was escalating. I hadn’t meant to make him mad, but I knew I better calm him down in a hurry before things got worse.

I led him to the bed and sat next to him. “Let’s role-play for a minute, okay? I’m gonna be my father, and you’re going to be you.”

“Aw-ight.”

“So, you’re going to marry my daughter?”

“Yes, sir. I love her,” he said confidently.

“Didn’t you love her the first time you were engaged to her?” Tony looked a little confused and a lot less confident. “Didn’t ya?” I pushed.

“Yes, I did.”

“But you was married then, weren’t ya?” Tony just looked at me. “C’mon, Tony. We’re role-playing, remember?”

He rolled his eyes at me, but I didn’t let up. I deepened my voice to try to imitate my father and asked, “Well, weren’t ya married then?”

“Yes, you know I was married.”

“What about now? You married now.”

“I’m getting divorced.”

“Well, when your divorce is final, you come see me about marrying my daughter.”

Tony frowned but admitted, “I guess I see your point.”

“As soon as your divorce is final, we’ll have a big party, okay?”

“What if I want a party now?” He kissed me as his hand reached out to cup my breast.

“Have I ever refused to party with you?”

“No, and let’s not start now.”

Junior kicked me in protest, but this time, I ignored him. I wasn’t going to let him, or anyone else, ruin my last bit of fun before I faced Egypt and Rashad. So, on that note, Tony took me in his arms, and we made love one more time.

Later, after we showered, we went to breakfast. I kept thinking I needed to call Rashad and Egypt, but I was enjoying myself too much, so I never picked up the phone.

Finally, around noon, Tony drove me back home. I asked him to let me off at the corner, but he insisted that he drop me off where he picked me up. Of course, you know my two jailers were waiting on the front porch for me.

I turned to Tony. “Please stay in the car.”

“You know I don’t like this shit.”

“I know, but it’s just until you get divorced. I’ll call you tonight. I promise.”

“All right. I’m doing this for you, so there won’t be no drama. Take care of that precious cargo you carrying there for me.” He patted my belly.

“I will. Promise.”

I leaned over and kissed him, then stepped out of the truck. I opened the back door to get my bag, where I’d stashed my engagement ring for the time being.

“Thanks, baby.” I blew him a kiss and walked up to the house to face the drama.

Egypt started the second I stepped foot on the porch. “Where the hell you been?”

To my surprise, Rashad sounded just as mad. “I can’t believe you would do this,” he snapped at me. To make things worse, the baby kicked me.

I know I should have told him. I’ll do it when he calls tonight. Right now I got to deal with your daddy and your aunt.

I hadn’t been out on New Year’s Eve in quite a few years. Leon and I usually brought in the New Year quietly, sitting in front of the TV watching the ball drop in Times Square. Half the time, I had to wake him up a few minutes before they started the countdown to the New Year. So I was so excited to be going out on the town on New Year’s Eve. I felt as giddy as a teenager going on her first date. In a sense, that’s what it was like. I hadn’t dated since Leon and I met twelve years ago. But tonight was my night. I was starting a new chapter of my life without him.

To get ready for my date, I pulled out all the stops. I made an appointment at Madame McKee’s Salon, which was a high-end, one-stop beauty spa in the west end of Richmond. There, I received the works: a facial, a massage, a pedicure, and a manicure, all of which had my skin glowing. I had the famous Madame McKee personally wash and blow-dry my hair. When I left the shop, my hair was bouncing in the wind like Michelle Obama’s did on Inauguration Day.

After I showered, I pulled out the white beaded dress Jerome had purchased just for this occasion. I can’t even pronounce the French designer’s name, but I’m sure with Jerome’s taste, he’d paid a pretty penny for it. The way it fit, I can tell you it was worth every dime, because I looked and felt like a million bucks. I studied myself in the full-length mirror. Not bad for a fortysomething-year-old woman. Although I was thick, I was beginning to see my waist slim down and hips come back. Since Christmas, I’d gone on a three-day protein diet and dropped seven pounds in the first week, something I was very proud of.

When Michael arrived for our date, I kissed him on the cheek and invited him in. It was a little awkward for me at first, seeing as how this was the first time I’d done this since my marriage—I mean going on a date; what I had had with Terrance was just revenge sex—but any fleeting thoughts of Leon quickly vanished when I saw how handsome Michael looked with his fresh new haircut and sharp black tuxedo. Before the night was over, I would have to ask him the name of his cologne, because he smelled phenomenal.

“You look gorgeous, Loraine. I love that dress, and your hair …” He circled around me, checking out every inch. It didn’t feel creepy or overly sexual; he just made me feel beautiful.

“Why, thank you, Michael. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

We didn’t linger in the house long. We had eight o’clock reservations at this exclusive French restaurant, Chez Pierre, in historic Shockoe Bottom. I will tell you chivalry is not dead, because Michael held not only the car door for me when we left the house, but also every other door I went through for the rest of the night.

The restaurant was crowded—I guess the pre–New Year’s Eve crowd planned to eat well before they got their party on. Of course, when the waiter escorted us to our table, Michael held out my chair. He ordered a very expensive bottle of wine—in French, no less. I ordered duck. Michael ordered the same. While we waited for our meals, we made small talk and drank nearly the whole bottle of wine. Michael seemed to sense that I wasn’t ready for any kind of deep conversations about the state of my marriage, so he allowed me to steer the conversation, and I kept it light. I must say that after all the doom and gloom I’d been feeling for the past few months, it was a pleasure to chat about insignificant things, like our secret shared addiction to certain reality TV shows. Michael kept me laughing until our main courses arrived.

When our meals were set in front of us, Michael bowed his head, took my hand, and said grace. I was impressed. Leon and I had stopped blessing our food in the past few years, and I can’t even tell you why. Here was another good point: The man was a Christian. I wasn’t trying to get my hopes up, nor did I necessarily
feel ready for a steady relationship, but I still couldn’t help making a list in my head of Michael’s good points. So far, I hadn’t come up with anything to put in the “bad” category.

“I’m so glad you came out with me tonight,” Michael said as he put down his fork. “I’ve been thinking about you ever since we ran into each other. This is definitely starting this new year out on the right foot for me.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” I said, then put another forkful of food in my mouth to avoid saying more. I wasn’t ready to go further than admitting that he’d been on my mind.

Once dinner was finished and we’d had dessert, Michael held up his glass and proposed a toast. “To the future. May it be as bright and beautiful as the woman I’m sitting across from.”

I was blushing so bad I had to lower my head. What a sweet, sweet man. “You sure know how to flatter a girl,” I told him.

“I call them as I see them.”

We went to the Marriott, where the governor was known to ring in the New Year. From what I could tell, Michael had just as many contacts in the city as I did, because this ball was very exclusive. Not just anyone could get into a party like this.

I love to dance, and as it turned out, so did Michael. I didn’t know too many black men who knew how to tango, but Michael happened to be one of them. He was so light on his feet and was able to spin and dip me so well that I felt like I was on
Dancing with the Stars
.

“You’re really a good dancer,” Michael whispered in my ear.

“Thanks,” I murmured back. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

The one problem with doing the tango with him was that the dance was so sensual it was damn sure putting me in the mood. I was determined I was not going to be a one-night stand—not that I necessarily thought Michael was going there, as respectful as he’d been all night—so I tried to keep my mind off how good my body felt pressed against his.

A voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to count down the new year!”

Michael wrapped his arm around me as we chanted along with everyone else, “Ten, nine, eight …” We reached “Happy
New Year!” and confetti flew up in the air, champagne corks popped, and the blare of noisemakers filled the room. Michael leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. I reciprocated by wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him back.

“Happy New Year, Loraine. I hope this year’s all that you want it to be.”

“Thank you. Happy New Year to you too. It’s off to a great start.”

   On our way home from the Marriott, Michael asked me if I’d like to see him again. Of course I said yes without any hesitation, and we made plans to have dinner that Friday night. For the first time in months, I felt alive again, maybe even a little sexy after all his compliments. He really was an exceptional man, along with being a great kisser. I honestly felt my life would be better with him in it.

We pulled up to my house, still involved in a conversation about our favorite books. We stayed in the car to continue the conversation, and the next thing I knew, it was almost four o’clock in the morning. I can’t even remember half of what we talked about, as the subject shifted from books to friends to other topics, but no matter the subject, I felt like I was hanging on every word he said. He was one of the most intelligent men I’d ever met. Brainy men have always done something to me, especially the good-looking ones.

When I started yawning and decided it was time to call it a night, Michael was out of the car, running around to my side before I could even get my door open. He walked me to my front door, and as I put the key in the lock, he turned me toward him and kissed me. Unlike the fairly tame “Happy New Year” kiss we’d shared, this time he surprised me by sliding his tongue in my mouth. Talk about turning up the heat.

I’d had enough wine and champagne to loosen my inhibitions, and I was considering asking him to spend the night. By the time he started kissing my neck, I was trying to remember if I had kept any of those condoms they gave out as favors at the bachelorette party I went to last month. I could only pray that sleeping with him on the first date wasn’t going to run him away,
because at this point, I was pretty much committed—that is, until some headlights blinded us as a car pulled into the driveway like a bat out of hell.

“Loraine, what the hell are you doing?” I couldn’t see him because of the glare of the headlights, but I recognized Leon’s voice. Then again, who else would be pulling into my driveway at four o’clock in the morning, harassing me?

“Leon, get out of here before I call the cops.” By the time my eyes adjusted to the light, he was stumbling toward us.

“Who is this clown?” Michael stepped in front of me.

“I’m her husband! That’s who I am. Who the fuck are you?”

“Leon, you’re drunk, and you’re going to wake up the entire neighborhood. Someone’s going to call the cops.”

“If they don’t, I will,” Michael added.

“Fuck those siddity motherfuckers. Now, who the fuck is this, and why is he kissing all on you?” Leon stepped closer to Michael, but Michael stood his ground. I watched the muscles tensing in his shoulders, and I knew things could get explosive in a moment. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse.

“Look, man, the lady doesn’t want you here.” They stared each other down like two gladiators about to do battle.

“You fucking my wife?” Leon was starting to cry.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You fucking him, Loraine?” He looked past Michael and directed his accusatory stare at me.

I held up my cell phone. “Leon, I just called the police. You have about five minutes before they get here. Unless you want to get arrested for DWI, I suggest you get out of here.”