Every Woman Needs a Wife (5 page)

“You think that’s funny?” Vernon asked, bristling with anger. “She asked my girlfriend to come live with us.”

This time the officer turned away from the car, holding his sides as the metal belt clanked against his keys.

“Then she demanded to get some ass, too.”

Officer Holland roared with laughter, unable to say anything. When he regained a modicum of composure, he turned back to Vernon. “You know, I’ve heard some stories, but yours takes the cake.” Putting away his ticket book, he said, “That’s my laugh for today. You’ve got enough troubles. But slow it down, man. I don’t see why you’re rushing home. Your wife’s gonna kill ya.”

Checking the side mirror, Vernon watched the officer glance back at the SUV and start laughing again. Pulling into traffic, Vernon had a sudden sense of foreboding that his nightmare had not ended at Tanya’s house.

♥♥♥

He’d seen exactly what Avie could do in a divorce. Vernon had come into his father’s downtown office when the burly, baldheaded man was in an absolute rage. Though he was dressed in his trademark three-piece suit,
which included the addition of a timepiece in left pocket—the man was far from professional at the moment. Luckily most of the employees were gone.

“She wants fifty thousand per month!” he roared in that booming voice that could start an earthquake. “She doesn’t even spend that in a damn year.”

“Well, Dad, you guys were married for forty years, she deserves something.”

“She’s living off my prestige, my image, my friends. She’s trying to steal my life.” William Spencer shook a pudgy fist in the air. “She wants the house.
My
house,” he bellowed. “My money paid for that house, she didn’t make a dime—just sat up on her ass and took everything I handed to her. Bettye Spencer and that money-grubbing family of hers have taken the last dime from me.

“I bet one of her relatives put her up to this.” Then he glared and pointed at Vernon. “No, that wife of yours did this. She’s getting back at me for that dinner.”

“You were pretty mean to Brandi, but I don’t think she told Mom about Avie on purpose.”

“Hmph! A woman lawyer at that! Doesn’t she have three kids?”

“Yes,” Vernon said, cautiously. “But what’s that have to do with anything?”

“She should have her tail at home raising her children. What kind of mother is she?”

Vernon shrugged, realizing he would have to choose his words carefully. “A modern Black woman, who works and raises a family.”

“That’s what’s wrong with children today. Women gallivanting in places only men should be allowed.”

Vernon took the glass of cognac his father offered. “So, you’re saying women aren’t competent enough to hold their ground in the boardroom? You haven’t been watching the news.”

“I’m saying men are having a harder time aspiring to success, now that women are pushing us out of our spots. Children are being raised by God knows who and are turning out to be God knows what.”

Vernon remained silent for a moment as he watched his father pace. “And working women are the cause of that? I don’t buy it, Dad. Brandi’s good at what she does.”

“Yes, in some ways she’s better at running the business than you are,” his dad said with a sly grin. “How will you ever know your full potential if she’s around? I keep trying to tell you that but you won’t listen. And where are my grandsons?”

“Brandi doesn’t want any more children.”

“She
doesn’t want?
She
doesn’t want!” The man’s voice got louder with every word. “Never have to wonder who’s wearing the pants in your household.”

“We share the responsibility in our house, Dad. That’s how things are done these days.”

“Pretty soon you’ll be wearing an apron and doing dishes,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “Have a few vacuuming tips you’d like to share?”

“Have a few
divorce
tips you’d like to share?”

That shut him up. Vernon slumped down in the sofa as worry lines furrowed his father’s forehead. “She’s not getting my house.”

“Correction: Mom already has the house, and two of the cars, and a huge settlement. It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“That’s not the point! It’s the principle of the thing,” he shot back. “Never in a million years would I believe that woman would leave me, then hire a big-boned, bitter bitch of a lawyer to try and take every penny.”

By the time Avie Davidson was done, William and his lawyers were whimpering in defeat as the judge read the divorce decree and settlement. Bribes to the judge didn’t matter. For every string puller Vernon knew, Avie knew another who could tie them together again. Her father was a judge; under no circumstance would he let his little girl go down without a fair fight.

When Vernon’s dad didn’t win on the financial front, he took things to an even uglier place. One day he told Vernon, “Either me or her.”

Stunned, Vernon could only say, “Dad, I’m not choosing between my parents. I love you and I love Mom.”

William, never one to be outdone, slowly found a way to dominate the majority of Vernon’s time, then dangled the prospect of taking over the business in front of his son. Always one who could never seem to do enough to please the old man, Vernon took the bait and soon his relationship with his mother became more and more distant.

Inwardly, though, Vernon was proud of her. “Looks like Mom is a lot smarter than you gave her credit for,” he told his father one day during another of the old man’s rants.

“If she was so smart,” William snapped, “she would’ve stayed married.”

“
Three
mistresses, Dad? You expected her to hang around after that became public?”

“Don’t fool yourself. She’s known about Marlene Stewart for years. She only found out about the other two recently. And that’s only because Mildred Roman’s daughter met Crystal Chadwick at a sorority dinner and they became friends, and over a period of time the two compared notes. Then they talked with Marlene’s youngest daughter, who knew Brandi. Brandi blabbed her suspicions to Avie, who then talked my wife into suing me for divorce. Damn gossipy women! The bane of every man’s existence.” Vernon took it all in. “Well, it was bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I would have preferred later.”

“I would have preferred you weren’t unfaithful to my mother at all,”

Vernon said, softly. “I still don’t see how you managed to stay in the League after it all came out.”

“Who, in their right mind, would even
try
to kick a founding member of the League of 1,000 Professional Black Men out of his own club? If you try to get away with it, you won’t be so lucky.”

As Vernon turned on Sixty-Seventh Street toward Jackson Park Highlands, he didn’t see Brandi’s car, but he had the distinct feeling that his father’s words and Officer Holland’s would come back to haunt him.

B
randi scrambled out of the car with a bag of groceries in each arm, sprinting toward the house on Cregier Avenue. She passed several cars parked along the street—all leading to her packed driveway. Music grew louder with each step she took toward the split-level gray, white, and black brick home.

Brandi trotted across the grass like a trespasser, through a small grouping of shrubs, past the magnolia tree, and landed on the “Home Sweet Home” welcome mat. She had made it! And Vernon was nowhere to be seen. She just
might
pull this off!

As she entered the safety of her home and closed the door behind her, the blasting dance music made her ears throb. The scent of food reminded her she hadn’t eaten all day. She placed the brown paper bags on the foyer’s marble floor and turned toward the living room. The sound of screeching tires made her heart race and propelled her to the window. Peeking out through the sheer curtains, she saw Vernon sprinting across the lawn, black blazer flying out behind him.

She laughed. Evidently, he hadn’t had much success convincing Tanya he would still make perfect husband material. Somehow, lies could always do that to a relationship.

Brandi clicked the lock to buy some time, then ran out of the foyer straight into the throng of waiting guests who had turned toward the front door, wearing a wide range of puzzled expressions. The music played on, even though the dancers had found something more interesting
unfolding at the front of the house. Fireworks at Navy Pier would rate second to what would go down in just a few minutes.

Soon the music scratched to a halt. No one moved.

Several scrapes of a key against the metal tumbler signaled Vernon’s struggle for access. The front door burst open. His nostrils flared. The fire in his eyes meant World War III was about to begin. Then again, with every one of their relatives looking on—maybe not.

He cast an angry glance around the room and slowed his pace toward Brandi.

She inched back into the safety of the crowd as Vernon blinked and froze, eyes widening in horror. Friends and family were scattered all over their house. A banner overhead said, “Happy Anniversary.” Their anniversary—unlucky number thirteen. She fumbled in her pocket, trying to find the one thing that proved maybe thirteen wasn’t so unlucky after all—at least for her. Vernon was a different story.

“Surprise…surprise!” everyone chanted, though not as enthusiastically as they had last year. People glanced curiously at each other, then at Vernon and Brandi, waiting for some type of explanation.

“Yes, surprise indeed,” Brandi mumbled under her breath.

Vernon strolled past the glass curio cabinet, the rows of abstract paintings, and the fireplace in a daze. He scanned the living and dining room areas as though he didn’t recognize the home he’d lived in for the past six years—a testament to the efforts they had put in to making The Perfect Fit a success. He stood absently in the middle of the floor, eyes darting around, landing on each person, reality dawning with each passing moment.

Brandi strolled over to the stereo, flipped in a tape, and punched “Play.” Soon the sounds of his strong tenor voice filled the room—begging, pleading, and groveling. The micro recorder she had had hidden in her bra at Tanya’s home had recorded much clearer than she thought possible.

Tori, her younger cousin, and Avie, her best friend since high school, reached up to the anniversary banner. Pulling it down, they revealed a “Bon Voyage” banner. Cousin Thomas, wearing a navy sheriff’s uniform,
strolled by Vernon, patting the shocked man on the back. Stuffing a jumbo shrimp in his mouth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a document, which he handed to the stunned husband.

Vernon looked around, then down at the papers in his hand, growling, “What’s this?”

Thomas struggled to speak around his mouthful of food. “It’s called the new rules of the house. This is a contract Brandi wants you to sign, giving her the right to split the business and start her own company.” Thomas grinned. “She thought you’d have a problem with this, but judging from all that begging you were doing, she doesn’t need to worry, eh bud?”

People gaped, still listening to Vernon’s voice on the tape; they stared, murmured, and pointed, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. Soon, the room filled with hearty chuckles. Everyone but their parents found the whole thing funny. Vernon’s father and Brandi’s mother glowered at both of them.

Uh-oh, Brandi was in a bit of trouble, too. She avoided eye contact with the woman who had helped her make every major decision of her life—including marrying Vernon instead of her first love. She hadn’t bothered to ask her about this, knowing what her mother would say.

When the tape finally switched off, Brandi said, “All right, let’s keep the party going,” as though she hadn’t destroyed thirteen years of her life with a flick of the wrist.

“DJ,” she said to her brother Donny, “give me something I can move to.”

Slowly, people hit the dance floor as a stepper’s cut came on. Others gravitated back to the buffet and wine table, all abandoning the need for immediate answers. Good food and good wine can do that—a party is a party.

Brandi’s gaze landed on the silver-haired woman with a wineglass in her hand in the middle of the dance floor. The woman’s wide smile as she lifted the glass and winked gave Brandi a moment of relief.
Even my mother-in-law finds it hilarious
, she thought.

Bettye Spencer sauntered over; weaving through the dancing bodies, she managed to not spill a single drop. “Now, I don’t appreciate the way you
got me to this…divorce party.” She took a sip of Verdi Spumanti. “But I sure appreciate your style.”

For the first and only time that night, Brandi felt a stab of guilt. She stood toe-to-toe with Bettye wishing she had even an ounce of the grace and calm the older woman had shown when she found out about her own husband’s infidelity. “I wanted to be sure Vernon couldn’t lie to you and keep you on his side. Now everyone knows the truth. He can’t spin the story in his favor.”

“Vernon wouldn’t be able to touch our relationship anyway,” Bettye said, grasping Brandi’s hands with golden brown, weathered ones. “We’ll always remain close.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Your wisdom has helped me in a lot of ways, and I love you,” Brandi said, embracing the small, gracefully built woman, whose soft brown eyes and warm spirit had helped her in more ways than she could count.

“I know that, child.” Bettye’s gaze fell to her son. “Vernon hasn’t been inclined to seek me out for any reason. His loyalty’s been to his father since our divorce. Vernon followed the money—”

“When he should’ve followed his heart,” Brandi replied. Knowing that Bettye wasn’t a drinker, she removed the glass from the woman’s delicate hand and took a small sip of the sweet, clear, bubbly liquid. “You knew about Tanya?”

“I’m not surprised. Like father, like son,” she said, reclaiming her glass, then slinging back the last of her drink.

When Tori shimmied past with a tray of wine, Brandi’s mother-in-law exchanged the empty glass for a full one, which Brandi swiped away from her. “Hey, how many of these have you had?”

Bettye grimaced, looking at Vernon’s father and shaking her head. “Not enough to deal with being in the same room with my asshole of an ex-husband
and
his new woman.”