Darius Jones (4 page)

G
lad he'd put his iPhone in his hip case, I asked Darius, “Baby, did that woman seem strange to you?”

Hunching his shoulders, he asked, “What woman?”

“The one who just left the bar. She had on white low-rise jeans, a white silk tank, a brown Gucci belt, brown slip-on Gucci heels, a real Gucci handbag, and she put her sunglasses on the counter facing us. She was sitting on the end,” I said, pointing to the stool where a man was now seated.

He laughed. “Man, you were all over her. This is our day, not hers. Stop tripping. There's lots of women at the bar,” he said, lightly kissing my lips.

Struggling to dismiss the feeling, I kissed him back. Perhaps I was tripping, but her bad vibes crept through me. Fearing things with my husband were too good to be true, I exhaled, trying to relax and enjoy my family.

I smiled, then said, “I want SaVoy to be my matron of honor. My mom is going to be so excited and my little sister is going to be our flower girl. DJ, you are going to be the ring bearer. I'm going to fly in my favorite makeup artist, Kim May, from D.C. And I have to ask G. Garvin to cater the reception.” I bounced in my seat trying to shake off the negative energy. The feelings stuck with the adhesiveness of Krazy Glue.

Darius nodded as I continued. “I'm inviting all my clients and I want your entire team to be at our wedding. I'm inviting the media too. And hopefully your mom won't mind handling the publicity so we can be on
Wendy Williams, Mo'Nique, Tyra,
and hopefully we can do
Oprah
before she ends her show—”

“Whoa. Baby, baby. Exhale. Whatever you want, Ladycat. This is your fantasy wedding come true,” Darius said. “But.”

I gasped, braced my back against the booth. “No, ‘buts,' honey.” I hadn't eaten all day. My stomach churned, then growled to the movement of trapped air. “Don't say it. I don't want to hear any ‘buts.'”

He licked his lips, then smiled. “You can't marry me again until I propose again,” he said.

Darius stood on the chocolate leather seat, tapped a spoon against his half-full water glass. DJ sprung from his booster seat, stood on the seat next to his dad. I was embarrassed and proud at the same time. The two most important men in my life were with me. Finding a husband was easy. Finding a man who loved me for me was a blessing. Darius reached into his pocket, pulled out a white box.

I held my breath, covered my mouth.

“I want everyone here to witness this. I love my wife so much, I'm proposing to her again.”

Stepping from the booth to the floor, Darius knelt before me on one knee. DJ jumped off the booth, placed his hand on his dad's shoulder. I slid to the edge. Darius stared into my eyes, then said, “Fancy Taylor Jones, will you marry me, again?”

My body trembled uncontrollably. I felt like Disney's next black princess. I'd go anywhere with my husband. Do whatever for him. For a moment I questioned if I deserved this much happiness. I'd disrupted Byron's marriage, ruined my ex-boyfriend Desmond's belief in women, and…I didn't want to conjure emotions about Thaddeus or that strange woman but they'd surfaced for a moment until Darius opened the ring box.

First, I was speechless. The diamonds set in platinum blinded me. I hugged Darius, then screamed.

DJ patted me on the thigh, pressed his pointing finger to his lips. “Fancy, use your indoor voice.”

“My man.”

“Grown folks' convo, Daddy?”

“You got it.”

I swore the entire restaurant could see the diamond's shine darting from my eyes. I cried, covered my mouth, cried, nodded, then cried some more. “I love you, Darius Jones.” In part, my tears were to cleanse my spirit of the unhappiness I'd caused others.

Darius kissed my tears, then placed the ring on my finger. “This two-carat pear-cut diamond that points toward you represents a teardrop from my heart to yours. The one that points toward me represents a teardrop from your heart to mine. The three-carat heart-shaped diamond in the middle is a symbol of our infinite love.”

I thought I'd die from joy. He'd put a lot of thought into this and kept it a secret until now. Wow.

Gliding the ring on my finger, my husband said, “No matter where we are, we will always be together. The seven total carats mean we are indivisible. Divorce is not an option.”

Everyone in the restaurant applauded us. I hugged my man. I kissed my husband. Told him, “I love you,” repeatedly.

DJ leapt onto the booth, tapped Darius's side. “Daddy.” He shook his head, then said, “Mommy's not gonna be hap—”

Why should Ashlee be happy?
It was her mistakes that allowed me to have her son's father and custody of her son.

Darius quickly covered DJ's mouth. “My man, right now I need you on my team.” Darius removed his hand, then gestured for a response from DJ. Darius stood, placed his huge hand on DJ's chest, then eased DJ's back against the booth.

DJ's eyes scrolled all the way to Darius's. “I am on your team, Daddy. I'm the sixth man, remember?” He nodded upward. His hands moved up and down as he tried his best to explain. “Mommy said I have to look out for you because you always make mistakes. Like when that lady sucked your—”

Darius interrupted, “Check, please.”

S
ho nuff this is my DNA.

I shook my head at my son. “My man. Chill for a sec.”

Thank God Fancy didn't address anything DJ had said. My wife found out firsthand how crazy my son's mother was when Ashlee slipped her an abortion pill. Ashlee killed our firstborn while it was still in Fancy's womb.

Another lesson I'd learned. After a breakup, change all the locks to my house. Ashlee had entered my house, replaced my aspirin with abortion pills, then drove my wife insane enough for Fancy to take what she'd thought was aspirin. I hated thinking about that shit. I told my wife, “We're celebrating the rest of this day.

“Hold your hand up.” I took a picture with my cell phone, posted it on Facebook with the caption, Just proposed to my wife again. We're doing it huge this time!

I kissed my son. “Give your dad a hug.” It wasn't his fault his mother had brainwashed him. I wished my mom would stop calling Ashlee for DJ and letting her fill his head with all that foolishness. Bad enough Ashlee's weekend visitation was coming up. I dreaded calling her back.

Ashlee was bitter. Her life's mission was to destroy men, myself included. This guy Jay who my son mentioned earlier, I wasn't sure who he was but I knew it was in my best interest to find out. Wasn't sure I wanted to know why he was really behind bars but I had to know if Ashlee was responsible. I'd bet money that Ashlee woke up angry, went to bed mad at the world, and spent her day contemplating how to break up me and my wife. I was already knowing Ashlee was going to explode atomic bomb style when she saw Fancy's second engagement ring. This was my life and my wife and I couldn't care less what Ashlee felt or thought.

“Make our order to go and toss in a bottle of champagne,” I said, handing the waiter my credit card. I dialed my mom to give her the news about our second wedding. Solemnly she answered, “Hey, baby.”

Was there a full moon coming tonight or what? I'd heard something about a full monster moon. My mom didn't sound happy, and earlier, Fancy was tripping over the chick at the bar. Of course I saw her—who didn't? My peripheral vision was spectacular on and off the court, but I wasn't insane enough to say, “You mean the fine ass bitch sucking up oysters like she was sucking up dicks?” She was a 909.

My teammates came up with a coding system for females. Nine being the highest, the first number represented a woman's face. The second number had to be zero or one. Zero meant we hadn't fucked with her. One meant we had. And the last number represented her body.

I asked, “Ma, what's wrong now? I knew you should've joined us.”

Fancy looked at my face. Frowned. “Your mom okay?”

I held up my hand toward my wife. “Hold on a minute, Ma.” Pressing mute on my cell, I told Fancy, “Sign off on the bill. We'll be in the car.”

I walked outside, strapped DJ in his booster seat, doubled-checked to make sure the seat belt was snug across his shoulder, then sat in the front passenger seat. “Ma, give it to me. Straight.”

“It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart.”

“Is that Grant guy disrespecting you? Is he tripping? If so, we can cancel the wedding and I can make him disappear from your life permanently.” Not the way Ashlee might do. I'd never send an innocent man to prison. I wasn't that devious.

“It's okay. I can handle him, sweetheart. He wants me to go to the movie premiere with him tonight. I wouldn't mind if his ex, Honey, wasn't going to be there. Just not sure I'm feeling up to any ghetto drama, that's all.”

Truth be told, sometimes men liked a little fire in our women. I loved how my wife was nice, strong when necessary, and if she got a head start, she could drop a dude my size. Bring him crashing to his knees. My mom was strong in many ways but she was weak for men. Wellington. My dad. This dude Grant.

“I'm sending a car for you, Ma. Come hang out with us. We're taking our food to go. If you're hungry, I'll have Fancy order whatever you want. I want to see you smile. Hear your happy voice. Besides, it's not often we're back home in LA at the same time.”

LA was special. I loved coming back to my house in the Valley. I had my fully furnished spot, my sports cars, the SUV we were rolling in, and my business here. My mom had the same but tonight she was in tow with dude and I didn't want her to feel obligated to hang with him if he was making her miserable.

I had to give Mom a lot of the credit for my happiness. Coast to coast my face lived on billboards. My new office building, Somebody's Gotta Be on Top, was state of the art and I was fully staffed with a hundred and one employees. I was so big in the industry I was the first baller to endorse myself.

“I'm okay, sweetheart. We're heading out in a few. Bambi will be there if I need anything. I'll call you later tonight after it's over. Give my grandson a kiss for me.”

“That I can do. Ma. I love you. Thanks for always being there for me. You don't always have to be Superwoman. You don't need Bambi. Let me be here for you.”

Mom sniffled, then said, “I love you too, sweetheart. Bye.”

DJ was too far away for me to kiss him, so I kissed my hand, touched my son's leg, then said, “My man, that's a kiss from your grandma.”

I had no problem showing my son love and affection. Had no problem keeping him in check either. Didn't want him to become the spoiled brat I was. I'd had so many women, I'd lost count by the time I'd met Fancy.

“Your mom okay?” Fancy asked, placing our food and champagne behind her seat. She settled in behind the wheel.

“She's good. Just wish she'd stop seeing that dude. She's not happy with him. Why do women cling to men who make them unhappy?”

“Darius, stop acting like you're the parent. They're not dating. They're engaged.” My wife reminded me of what I knew but didn't want to acknowledge.

My mom was holding on to Grant the way Maxine had held on to me. I was happy as hell I hadn't married Maxine. She was one of those ultra-conservative boring females. I'd heard that madness that a good girl was the kind of woman a man should marry. Bullshit. Boring wives deserved to get cheated on.

Sometimes I wondered if it was my fault Maxine had contracted HIV. Wasn't sure Maxine would've cheated on me had I not cheated on her. Payback was a dumb reason for any woman to open her legs. With my promiscuous ways, one would think I would've contracted the disease, not her. Maxine had two lovers: me, and the dude who infected her. I was the male whore, so to speak, and not ashamed of my past, mind you. My whoring around before settling down made me a better man and a damn good husband.

Fancy started the engine, left the car in park, then said, “Oh, Darius, should we fly everybody to Paris? Spain? Italy? Should we get married on a yacht on the French Riviera? What about one of New York's garden rooftops?”

“Whatever you want, Ladycat. Whatever
you
want.”

I gloated reading the comments and tweets.

You the man, dawg!

I want one, Darius. I'll marry you too!

If I get one of those, you can have whatever you like.

The last comment was from a dude and had to be removed.

“For real, Darius. You just gave me this ring and your head is buried in your phone.”

“Sorry, baby. I'm just reading the responses.” Three hundred fifty-six comments in less than a half hour after posting. Damn. I could have a thousand tricks hitting me up before midnight.

The women I'd fucked, including my son's mother, had come to me with their pussies on silver platters. Well, that wasn't exactly true about Ashlee. I pursued her. There was something pure, innocent, and naïve about her at first. She believed in me, like my mom.

Fancy turned off the engine, opened her purse, got her phone, started texting too. I hated that shit. Watching my wife out the corners of my eyes as she texted made me jealous. Who the fuck was she texting? What messages was she sending? She scanned her surroundings, then looked at me as she tapped the keys. She only looked down to read a response, then she was at it again. Typing, faster.

I couldn't match her speed so I laughed knowing I'd interrupt her thoughts. I kept reading my messages. My son was quiet. Probably asleep.

“My mom should've come. She's going to love your ring.”

Fancy was quiet. Sometimes her emotions went from hot to cold but her pussy was always a hundred and six. She couldn't outdo me with texting. She only had one close girlfriend and a bunch of clients. If I showed my wife the postings that just came in, her blood would boil. She'd lose her mind. That's what happens when girls sign up for the boys' club. They get burned.

A person would have to be slick times ten to get over on Darius Jones.