For the Sake of Love (5 page)

Bria looked into Spade's eyes, hoping that the expression “the eyes are the windows to the soul” was true, because she needed answers. Spade's dazzling brown eyes that usually sparkled and made her fall in love with him time and time again seemed devoid of any happiness. In addition to the painful sadness they revealed, they were horribly bloodshot. She could see that he was upset. She wondered what could've happened.

She searched her mind trying to find a hint as to what could've caused Spade to behave this way, and she came up with nothing. None of this was making sense to her.

“Here.” She took off her one-carat diamond and white gold engagement ring and handed it to him. As much as she loved her engagement ring it meant nothing if Spade didn't want her to be his wife.

Breaking eye contact with her, Spade looked down at the floor and said, “You can keep the ring.”

Her jaw dropped.
That's it?
she thought. She felt angry. Her eyes narrowed, and giving him a scathing look, she hissed, “Why won't you talk to me? Something is wrong! I can feel it.” She wiped her face.

He stood up, turned his back to her, and paused as if he had something else to say. She waited, hoping he would turn around and tell her he didn't mean it.

When he didn't say anything she said, “What am I supposed to tell my family and friends?”

Apparently at a loss, he raised his hands in the air and sighed. “I don't know.” Then he dropped his head and headed toward the front door.

“Wait! Did I do something?”

“No. You didn't do anything. I never meant to hurt you.”

She was tempted to beg him to stay, but she remembered hearing Oprah talk about the man she pleaded with God to bring back, and in the end she thanked God for letting him go. Although she doubted that she would ever be thankful for losing Spade, she didn't stop him from leaving.

She locked the door behind him and allowed the fresh tears that had been hovering around the borders of her eyes to escape. She pressed her back against the door and slid down to the floor. Knees bent and her arms wrapped around to hold them in place, she cried in her lap. She felt hurt, betrayed, angry, and confused. She thought she had done everything right when it came to her relationship with Spade. She was a virgin. And most important, she prayed about her relationship with him. She believed in her heart of hearts that he was The One! This was not supposed to happen.

So many questions resonated in her mind, and she wondered if he ever loved her at all. No, she refused to go there. Of course he loved her. Had he not he wouldn't have put a ring on her finger. And as Steve Harvey had often stated, “If a man loves you, he'll give you a title.” Well, Spade had claimed her as his girlfriend, and then his fiancée. He made his intentions known that he planned for her to be his wife. His actions had always been consistent with his words . . . at least until now.

How could he be so insensitive? she wondered. Why did he tell her that the wedding was off the day before the grand opening of her day spa? Did he have such little regard for her that he didn't care about ruining her celebration? She didn't want to believe that, but thinking about his timing made her more furious. No, she couldn't in good conscience call Spade insensitive. Through the years he demonstrated to her on more occasions than she could count how in touch with her feelings he really was. Therefore, whatever “it” was that he was going through had to be of huge, gigantic—no—enormous proportions.

What if she were off base altogether? What if he had changed now that he was about to blow up? Was that possible? She thought about the young girls at Six Flags. What if he didn't want to get married because it didn't go with that whole rapper lifestyle? Everyone knows rappers are known to be promiscuous. Was she in denial?

She tried hard to silence the questions that plagued her mind as exasperation engulfed her.
The insanity of it all!
she fumed. She hated having more questions than answers. It made her feel vulnerable, which was something she tried not to do.

She wiped away her tears and continued to try to quell the questions that gnawed at her psyche. Spade's behavior today was totally inconsistent with the man she thought she knew and loved.

“Snap out of it,” she said aloud. So many memories. She had to force herself to stop thinking about Spade, because she was making herself more depressed by the second.

Even though she felt like crawling into bed and never getting out, she knew that she couldn't do that. She needed a pep talk, and Nya was just the person to do it.

Without so much as a “hello” or “how are you doing?” as soon as she heard Nya's voice on the other end of the phone she blurted out, “The wedding is off.”

“What? What happened?” Her voice went up an octave.

Bria could not even get the words out without bursting into tears.

“I'm on my way,” Nya assured her before hanging up the phone.

Less than thirty minutes later, she was knocking on Bria's door with a bag filled with Butter Pecan ice cream and a box of Kleenex.

Bria looked at her five foot two inch, twenty pounds overweight friend through rheumy eyes. Nya seemed to carry most of her extra pounds in her butt. She brushed past Bria, and her scent could only be compared to the yellow puff flower balls on an acacia tree.

Bria put the ice cream in the freezer and carried the box of Kleenex into the living room where she cried and recapped her conversation with Spade.

“I'm in shock right now,” Nya said. “In all the years I've known Spade, one thing I was always convinced of is that not only does he love himself some Bria, he really likes you. I don't know what's going on, but this is way out of character for Spade.” She paused. “If you ask me, Spade's acting like a punk and a coward. What's his number? I'm about to call him!”

“Don't do that.” Bria found herself trying to calm Nya down. “It won't do any good.” The last thing she wanted was for anyone to try to guilt Spade into being with her.

“Somebody needs to talk some sense into that negro.”

Bria flopped on the sofa simply broken.

“Do you want me to have Chance talk to him?”

Was she kidding? Although Chance and Spade were cool, even friends, Chance considered Bria to be like his little sister. His loyalty was to her. Knowing that Chance could be somewhat of a hothead, and Spade such an alpha male, she didn't think that was a good idea. Although Bria was highly upset with Spade, she didn't want to risk an altercation between the two of them. Besides, she wasn't fully convinced that she and Spade wouldn't reconcile. She didn't want Spade and Chance to have any issues between them later.

“No,” she said.

“What about all the money you've spent on this wedding? Is he going to pay you back?”

“Correction . . . all the money my
parents
have spent on this wedding.” She rested her head on Nya's lap. “No, I'm not going to ask him to.”

Nya rolled her almond-shaped eyes and sighed. “That's crazy. Don't let him off the hook that easy.”

Bria felt the need to explain herself. “If he doesn't want to be with me, then I'm not going to be vindictive.”

Bria figured that her man must've be going through something pretty heavy and needed some time to pull himself together. So, rather than accept the cancellation of their wedding and move on with her life, she was going to contact everyone and let them know that the wedding had been postponed until further notice. And she was determined to stick by her man's side . . . whether he wanted her to or not.

“That's so you.” Nya raised a brow and smirked. “But if it were me, I wouldn't let it go that easy.”

Unable to take any more of Nya's lecturing, Bria went into the kitchen and fixed them each a bowl of ice cream. Knowing the severity of the situation, she ignored the dainty and appropriate dessert bowls and took out the mega-sized ones. They sat around the island, eating their emotions.

“I'm sorry this happened. I know how much Spade means to you.”

Bria nodded in agreement and ate a spoonful of ice cream.

“This is one time that I wish I were a guy,” Nya said, “because I'd kick his behind myself. How dare he hurt you like this!”

She knew that Nya was serious. “I appreciate that.” Bria let out a nervous laugh, the kind from the throat and not the stomach. On the surface, she could make light of the threat, but deep inside the very core of her person, tiny bits of her heart kept being chipped away.

“Do you want me to spend the night?”

“No, you've only been married six months. I don't want to come between you and your husband.” In spite of her recent situation, Bria still had the utmost respect for love and marriage.

Nya leapt up and strode around the island to embrace Bria affectionately, wrists jingling with bracelets and bangles. “You're my girl, and I knew you long before I ever had a man. You know that I love Chance to death, but true girlfriends are hard to find. If you want me to stay, just say the word.”

Bria offered a faint smile and again declined the offer.

Nya snapped her fingers. “I just remembered that Chance and I are supposed to go out to dinner tonight. Let me call him and tell him I can't make it.” She grabbed her cell phone.

It seemed to Bria that Chance's favorite pastime was eating. He was a big dude, and Nya had easily packed on fifteen pounds in the eighteen months since she'd known him. Before Nya could touch the screen Bria said, “No, but I do appreciate your willingness to cancel your plans for me. I want you to go and have a good time. No sense in both of us sitting around being miserable. Don't worry about me.” She meant it.

“I can't help it. You're the closest thing I have to a sister. I love you, and I don't want you moping around acting all depressed.”

Acting
depressed? It wasn't an act, Bria resolved. She forced a smile and said, “I love you too. Honestly, I'll be fine. I'm starting to feel better already.”

Nya kissed her on the cheek and said, “Liar. You don't have to put on a brave face for me.”

“I know. I'll call you if I feel like slitting my wrists or popping pills,” she teased. No matter how sad she felt, she knew that suicide wasn't an option. The very act of taking one's life went against her spiritual beliefs.

“Don't joke about stuff like that because I'd have to take you to the
Pet Sematary.
”

They both laughed, because
Pet Sematary
was one of their favorite horror movie classics.

Bria walked Nya to the door. They hugged, and Nya said, “I'm praying for you.”

Unlike so many people who lie and say they'll keep you in their prayers, Bria knew that when Nya said she was praying for her, she actually meant it. They prayed for each other all the time.

“Everything's going to be all right,” Nya promised her.

Bria closed the door behind her and asked of no one, “Can you assure me of that?”

 

 

After calling off his engagement, Spade spent the rest of the night sulking. He just moped around his condo in a daze. He didn't eat. He didn't take a shower. He didn't even brush his teeth. All he did was lounge around in his bed. When he did get up, it was to go to the bathroom or sip some water. He didn't answer his phone or turn on the TV. No music either.

He knew that he couldn't avoid his mom longer than a day without her calling half of the town looking for him. He didn't want her to mess around and call Bria. He finally mustered up the courage to tell his mother that the wedding was off. Knowing his mother as well as he did, he needed some super-duper industrial-strength courage to deal with her. One would've thought she was an amateur detective the way she asked question after question.

When he called his mom and heard her voice, he felt like hanging up, but he didn't. “Hey, Mom. I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, Lawd. That doesn't sound good at all. What's going on?”

He paused before answering, “Bria and I aren't getting married.”

“What happened?” He had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Are you all right?” Her concern was evident.

He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I can't go into that right now.”

She went from concerned to demanding. “Boy, what do you mean you can't go into it? You better tell me something. What have you done? I thought you loved that girl.”

He felt like a steak—about to be grilled. “I do love her.”

“Then talk to me.” She paused for a moment, and when Spade didn't volunteer any information she continued, “I don't think you cheated because one, you love her, and two, I raised you better than that. I don't believe you caught her cheating because you're
my
child, and you'd be calling me from jail if you had. So the only other things that make sense are you're either running from the law or you're dying. Which is it?”

His mom was so logical, it drove him nuts! He hated when she played amateur detective. Why couldn't she just let this go? “Look, Mom, you know I love you, but I'm not ready to talk about this. I have to go.” He hung up. He expected her to blow up his phone, but she didn't. And he was glad.

Bria woke up early Saturday morning so that she could pray and meditate. “Geez, Louise,” she said, looking into the mirror in her luxurious bathroom where Tocca candles burned and eau de parfumes adorned granite surfaces in pretty glass bottles. Bria loved beautiful things: a strutting peacock, hot toast and lashings of melting butter and honey, the ripple of a brook, birds chirping, sunlight warming her bare feet, white sandy beaches, and waterfalls. Most of all, Bria loved love, for nothing was more beautiful to her than that.

Her eyes were as billowy as marshmallows from all the crying she had done since her breakup yesterday. She pressed a chilly, wet washcloth over her eyes for a few minutes and brushed her teeth. Satisfied that only time would erase the vestiges of her sorrow, she went downstairs into the kitchen and cooked.

Over breakfast she read the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
, or as it was more familiarly referred—AJC. Then the phone rang and interrupted her. She almost didn't answer when she saw Spade's mom's name pop up, because she didn't want to burst out crying. But, she answered anyway.

“Bria, sweetie, are you okay? My son told me what happened.”

Bria hoped Spade had told his mom more than he had told her. Maybe she'd be able to shed some light on the situation. “I'm still in shock but hanging in there.”

“I just wanted to call to let you know how sorry I am. If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask. Do your parents know?”

Bria dreaded having that conversation with her parents. Not wanting her parents to worry, she decided to postpone telling them about her broken engagement until after the grand opening. “No, I haven't told them yet. I want to wait until after the grand opening.”

“Oh, I see.” She sounded shocked herself. “Well, when you finally do tell 'em, please let them know how sorry I am about everything. You and my son belong together. I don't know all that happened, but I've been praying for y'all. You know you'll always be my daughter no matter what.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Don't give up on my son.”

She acted as if Bria had a choice. Spade had given up on her. She hadn't given up on him.

“Sometimes couples go through rough patches, but for the sake of love you work it out.”

“That's just it,” Bria whined. “We weren't going through any rough patches. We were happy and in love. At least that's what I thought. This came out of the blue. And I still don't know what happened.”

“Whatever it is, he'll tell you when he's ready. Just let him work through it. I know my son; he'll be back. Don't think for a minute that he doesn't love you; he does.”

Bria's heart ached hearing Spade's mom defend him. She sounded so confident that Bria wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

When they finished talking, Bria put her food away. Her appetite was gone. She felt tense and stressed again. The only thing she knew to do was to run on the treadmill for forty-five minutes, so she put on some workout clothes. While in the guest bedroom she had a moment. That was the same room she was going to let Spade turn into a gym. Spade had become such an integral part of her life that she didn't feel as though she could ever escape him. She dropped to the ground and did one hundred crunches. She touched her tight abs and felt a tinge of sadness. Spade loved to rub her flat stomach and would often pretend to talk to the baby he wanted to someday plant there. She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. Her face was kissed with sweat, so she blotted it with a towel.

Her phone was hot, she thought as it rang. This time it was her mother calling. She took a deep breath before answering.

“Hey, Mom.” She hoped her mom wouldn't pick up on the sadness in her voice. “You and Dad are still coming to the grand opening, right?”

“Yes. I wanted to know where we're supposed to meet you.”

She gave the information. “I just finished working out. I need to go take a shower.”

“Okay. See you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Although she did have to take a shower, that wasn't the complete truth. Knowing that the breakup had taken a toll on her she kept her conversation with her mom short. She wasn't good at faking and didn't want her mom to pick up on the emotional turmoil in her voice. She silently prayed that everything would go according to plan and that the grand opening would be a success.

Bria went into the master bathroom and took off her workout clothes. She stepped into the steamy shower and allowed the hot water to pulsate against her soft skin, slowly alleviating her stress.

After taking her shower, she moisturized her body before slipping into a long satin robe. She sprinkled a dab of fish food into the fifteen-gallon tank residing in her bathroom. There were roughly ten goldfish thriving in their Lucite home.

With a few hours before the grand opening she did not want to do much of anything except relax. Chamomile tea always seemed to calm her nerves, so she went downstairs, filled her favorite black-and-white bovine-motif teakettle with water, and placed it on the stove over a high open flame.

While she was waiting for the water to boil, the telephone and doorbell rang simultaneously. Since she wasn't expecting company, she contemplated not answering the door. The phone rang again, so she grabbed the cell phone and walked to the door to answer it too. It was Nya on the phone.

Holding the phone to her ear, she looked through the peephole and saw a man dressed in a baseball cap, Polo shirt, Windbreaker, and khakis pants carrying a huge bouquet of multicolored roses. After telling Nya to hold on, she held the phone in her left hand and opened the door with her right.

“May I help you?” she said as the teakettle whistled loudly from the kitchen.

“I have a delivery for Bria Murray.”

She signed for the order and thanked him before taking the flowers into the crook of her arm and saying, “Hold on a sec. I'll be right back.”

She placed the vase and telephone on the antique white colored island, turned off the stove, and went into the family room where her Michael Kors bag was sitting on a glass end table. She then grabbed a few dollars from her wallet and gave the delivery man a tip.

She went back into the kitchen and resumed her telephone conversation.

“Who sent
you
flowers?” Nya said, emphasizing the word you.

“Don't sound so shocked.”

Bria removed the small card that was neatly tucked between the roses and read aloud.

What in the world? Her head was reeling. She paused and felt confused to learn that the beautiful arrangement was from Spade. How could he send her flowers when she hadn't heard one word from him since he had broken her heart? Was he trying to torture her? Why would he do that?

“Don't let that get you down,” Nya scoffed. “We have too much to look forward to today than to allow the enemy to get to us.”

By enemy she knew that Nya meant evil forces and not Spade per se. Bria was glad that she had chosen Nya to be her PR director. That way, Nya could do most of the talking at the event. Because based on how Bria was feeling at that moment, she did not think she could handle it herself.

“I'm glad you're on my team. Thank God for you.” She confirmed the time that Nya and Chance would be arriving at her house so that they could ride to the event together and hung up.

In a tiny spot below her shattered soul, Bria was also excited, she had to admit, because this was her dream come true. She poured hot water over two teabags in her cup. She liked it strong. She allowed the bags to steep for a minute or two before adding lots of lemon, honey, and sugar in the raw.

She stared at the bouquet and thought,
Were these ordered before or after you broke up with me?
It didn't matter anyway, she reasoned. “I'm not going to give you any more of my energy,” she muttered aloud.

Inhaling, she took a nice long whiff of the roses. She wasn't about to toss them out, regardless of the situation. She loved the smell of fresh flowers. So much so that she faithfully purchased a bouquet every Tuesday and Friday. And Spade knew that. To her, fresh flowers were a luxury that she refused to live without. They brightened up a room and turned a house into a home.

Taking her tea cup and saucer into the family room, she decided to watch TV because she had time to catch a movie before getting ready. She was pleasantly surprised that the 1975 classic
Cooley High
was on. She loved that flick. At the end she dried her eyes because no matter how many times she watched it, she always cried when Cochise died.

Turning off the flat-screen TV, Bria went upstairs into the master bathroom and pulled her hair back into a long ponytail. She preferred wearing ponytails for numerous reasons. One, she thought she looked chic. Two, it showed off her oval face and delicate features. Three, her hair hung down her back past the bottom of her bra strap; therefore, slicking it back was convenient. And, of course, four, with it being so hot in Atlanta a ponytail was literally the coolest hairstyle she could rock.

Then she applied her makeup. She only wore MAC brand, because she loved the matte finish. Before putting on her lipstick, she brushed her teeth and gargled, again. According to Bria, fresh breath was a beauty essential. Then she dabbed J-Lo's perfume behind her ears, her neck, on her cleavage and inner thighs. She preferred to wear fragrances that weren't too strong, because she didn't like the scent to linger in the air. Like most people living in and around Atlanta, she suffered from sinus problems and allergies mostly due to the dangerously high pollen, grass, and weed count.

She was primped and preened, powdered and perfumed, and stuffed into a long black form-fitted backless lace and satin gown with a plunging neckline. She felt sexy and thought she looked elegant. Black open-toed shoes accented her French pedicure.

Not long afterward, the doorbell rang. She figured that it was Nya and Chance, so she grabbed her matching clutch purse and wrap. She greeted them at the door with their usual hugs and kisses on the cheek. Nya's sexy black glitter gown caught her eye.

“Work it!” Bria teased. “You look beautiful.” With her hair pulled up she thought Nya's round face appeared more oval.

“Thanks. So do you.” She adjusted the sheath around her meaty shoulders. “My shoes are already pinching my toes.”

Bria chuckled. She glanced at Nya's open-toed rhinestone shoes, exposing her freshly painted red toenails. For those shoes, she would've endured some pain too.

Chance stood approximately six feet tall, complete with a spare tire around the middle, and dressed in a black tuxedo looking like a penguin. She couldn't decide whether his bald head reminded her of a Milk Dud or chocolate M&M. His goatee was neatly trimmed and full lips curled at the ends. He looked decent for thirty-two, she figured.

“We look like we're going to the Grammy's,” Bria commented. As soon as she said it she regretted it. Her thoughts immediately went to Spade. They had often talked about attending the Grammy's together in hopes that Spade would one day be nominated for one.

“Almost,” Nya said. “Wait until you see the limousine.”

Bria liked riding in limos on special occasions and tonight was no exception. Outside waiting for them in the driveway was a Baby Bentley limo. Bria was impressed. She locked the door behind them. The driver opened the car door for them, and they sat in back on plush leather seats.

“I could get used to this,” Bria said.

Nya gave her a dimpled smile, and Chance nodded in agreement. Bria enjoyed the smooth ride as she checked out the amenities. She noticed that there was a wet bar, TV, and DVD player. She wished that Spade could have been there with her. Then she made up in her mind that she was not going to go there.

She did not converse much during most of the ride, because Nya chatted enough for everyone.

They arrived at The Spa Factory an hour and a half early to ensure that everything was in place. Bria couldn't believe her place of business was about to be open for business.

The driver opened the door for them, exposing them to the red carpet that led to the entrance of the building and a huge red ribbon wrapping the front like a present. Photographers were positioned outside waiting to snap pictures of the guests. They stopped and posed for the cameras. Bria felt like a celebrity. She used to fantasize about walking red carpets with Spade.

When she went inside Bria met with her office manager, Dani, who oversaw the setup. Dani was in her late twenties, had an MBA, and five years of spa-related experience. She looked very stylish, yet professional.

“Were there any problems?” Bria queried as she took in her surroundings. Flickering candles strategically placed throughout the room emitted a very pleasing scent of cinnamon with a touch of vanilla.

“Not a one.”

Bria felt confident that that was true because she compared Dani to a quiet storm. Dani appeared nonthreatening and unassuming, but if you underestimated her, you were in for a rude awakening.

“Glad to hear it.”

Bria left her alone and went to check on the food, catered by Justin's Restaurant & Bar. She was pleased with the display consisting of catfish fritters, baked crab cakes, chicken saté, and New Zealand BBQ lamb chops.

The feast smelled delicious and looked appetizing. Another table consisted of fresh fruit, raw vegetables, an assortment of cheeses, and a variety of dips. A chef dressed in traditional chef's attire stood behind a table prepared to carve a succulent-looking roast. The waitstaff and bartender wore traditional white tuxedo shirts and black bow ties with matching vests and slacks, which also met with her approval. Bria loved it when a plan came together.

A short while later Bria's parents arrived, and she greeted them with hugs. Her dad looked distinguished in his tuxedo with a black and gold designed vest to spruce it up. His salt-and-pepper hair, moustache, and laugh lines added character, Bria thought.